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Chapter Text

"Oh no," she murmured quietly as she looked at herself in the mirror.

A beautiful face looked back at her. Brown hair, brown eyes, full lips and an absolute stricken horror in her eyes.

Normally, when you wake up one day, wearing the body of another person and her previous memories in your head, well, a little bit of horror and terror could be excused. If you woke up as a main character of a novel, well, the horror and terror could be excused even more.

The only thing that relieved her was the fact that she wasn't the main character of a novel which might end with the end of the world if she failed. Only her family's ruin and her potential love life.

She stared at her own face and stroked her cheeks.

She was gorgeous, yes, but her sister was even more so. Angelic in appearance with a personality that made her even more so.

She had read 'Pride and Prejudice' as a teenager, and appreciated it. She had enjoyed and entertained daydreams about that kind of untouchable love for a number of days, and bemoaned her own lack of romance in life and then moved on with another book, or another event, in her life because life didn't stop for anyone and certainly not for her.

And yet, now, she stood in front of a mirror, living inside a body that was very real, in the middle of a story she had read many years ago, as the main character of the very same novel, and she was horrified, and stricken and extremely upset. Elizabeth Bennet was a lovely woman, and to replace her with her ?

God, what in the world was whoever thinking this, thinking????

She was carefree, and joyous, yes. But Elizabeth Bennet was something else. And even more importantly, she was someone else. Not only was one of the greatest romances ever completely ruined by whatever God had chosen to put her here, she didn't even know if her dear, darling, angelic sister would even manage to get married to the one she loved.

And she would make Elizabeth Bennet an actual spinster!

What a horror.

This was completely and utterly terrible.

Naturally, this was absolutely the perfect time for her mother to usher them all out of the house to take them to the first ball, where the Bennet family would get introduced officially to the Bingley trio and Darcy .

As in Mr. Darcy , the supposed love of a life for Elizabeth Bennet.

Fuck.

The good thing was, well, at least she had the memories of Elizabeth Bennet in her??

Gosh. What a perfect mess.

The Meryton ball was beautiful. She could see the small details that she hadn't in the many movies, or things that the books had never deigned to describe to their readers. Or well, details that might not have existed at all, actually.

She felt a fickle of hysterics under her skin even as she tried stubbornly to distract herself from it. Bursting into tears in the middle of a ba when literally nothing was wrong was a sure fire way to get asked questions like 'what's wrong?' and then when she wouldn't be able to answer, people would keep a closer eye on her and notice .

God.

People would know .

She wasn't Elizabeth Bennet !

She wasn't that crazy, bold, amazing woman who could go up against the world and come out the other side a victor. She was just. Her.

Should she just run away?

She had relatives in London, a Mr and Mrs Gardiner, who had been described as sensible. Oh god. Wouldn't they know then?

Before she descended into a full blown panic attack, her mother's voice cut through the noise and she started gossiping about Mr. Bingley and whatever their neighbours had altogether managed to gather together about him to Jane.

God, Jane .

Jane was beautiful.

And she was so very human .

She smiled at mother, a happy pleased sort of smile where she thought mother was exaggerating but she was happy to see her so animated and cheerful.

Just. Happy.

Jane used to be slightly air headed, in her youth. She was always complimented on her beauty and so she just grew unable to appreciate beauty at all. But she maintained herself for her mother, who looked so very pleased whenever she saw her most beautiful daughter.

Mrs Bennet, Mrs Amelia Bennet, was a relatively good mother. She was keyed up, anxious, prone to tears in her happiness and sadness, and jumped the ball a little too often. But she was…good. She cared as only a mother could, and didn't care in a way only someone, who had 5 daughters to take care of, could.

As soon as they entered the ballroom, they had all separated to do their own thing, far too used to these things to stick together shyly. Specially when they were already always together at home.

But when someone spotted Mr Bingley coming up, a crowd started gathering up near the door, and areas where they would have to go, like the drinks table or near the men who had already met them previously.

Elizabeth stumbled a little, caught up and distracted. And her mother caught both Jane and her smoothly before walking them towards Mr Bingley and his entourage.

It was almost an out of body experience, made even more so by the way everyone talked. So natural, that Elizabeth barely even realised how old the words sounded, and yet, so natural. Because Elizabeth had grown up in this time, with these memories.

She barely contributed, trying her best not to look at Mr. Darcy, at Miss Bingley or Mr Bingley or even her sister Jane. Mr Bingley offered to dance with Jane and Elizabeth had a moment of genuine panic where she thought she was going to vomit all over her company before she ducked her head, twisted out of reach and walked away .

Just.

Away.

Meryton ball.

Elizabeth Bennet, the future Mrs Darcy.

She felt shivers crawl down her spine and she really, dearly wanted to sit somewhere, puke her guts out and just cry. Though maybe not in that specific order.

She was ruining the whole thing. She was ruining the story. She was ruining everything.

Elizabeth wanted to cry, wanted to run, and wanted to stop shivering . And also just. Really wanted to be able to catch her breath. Cause it felt like an extremely hard task all of a sudden.

It took a while before Elizabeth realised she was having a panic attack and calmed herself down. It would be easier to have a panic attack and maybe just pass out, but then again, maybe not.

Hah.

She was extremely tempted to run back home, take off her clothes and just. Sleep. Back in her bed. In the room she shared with Jane.

Even in her mind, her 'back to her bed' was the bed here and not back there. Funny how this whole thing was working out.

A hysterical giggle unknowingly escaped her lips and she pressed her lips shut. She couldn't do this. She really couldn't do this.

"Elizabeth? Lizzy? Is something the matter?" Mary's quiet voice came first before she came close enough to see her sister's face. Elizabeth instantly yanked all of Elizabeth up front before turning to face her younger sister.

Mary had been her first younger sister. While Jane had always been there as far as Elizabeth's memory could reach, Elizabeth was sure that she was something like that to Mary. So she pulled on her facade tight across her face and turned to look at her amazing younger sister.

Mary had a concerned look on her face as she peered at her, looking like she could read the anxiety crawling under her skin like Elizabeth read the feelings of any character in a book.

(Like Elizabeth and Mary were both supposed to be.)

"You certainly don't look all right," Mary said, stepping in closer with a heavier look of concern. Mary was supposed to be on the piano, but instead she was with Elizabeth. Instead, Charlotte was supposed to be by her side.

Maybe.

She wasn't very sure.

She had read this one book so very long ago. Why, oh why, was she here ?

"Elizabeth?" Mary called out, and Elizabeth captured her sister's hands in her own slightly trembling cold ones. She feared that opening her own mouth would mean her hysterical laughter would escape. Or maybe she would start sobbing outright. "Whatever is the matter? Should I call for Jane? Or Charlotte?" Or maybe, Mama ? she read the words unsaid in the silence.

Only the very worst scenario could wrench her mother away from the two new arrivals in the ball. And also, of course, was Mr Bingley captured by Jane's charms.

Tearing her mother out was completely out of question.

The Meryton ball was cheerful, lively and full of dancing crowds. And Elizabeth only felt nauseous the more she looked at them all.

What was she doing here ?

"Elizabeth?" Mary called out again, looking far more panicked than before. Elizabeth took a deep breath, then another.

She didn't know how, but she could do this. She wouldn't faint . She hadn't fainted in her life and panic wasn't going to make her . So what if the world was messed up, so what if she was. She'd do something.

"Forgive me, Mary," she whispered. "I don't feel so well this evening," she offered her sister a faint smile. Mary's brow was furrowed with concern.

"Should I call Papa?" She asked, her grip tightening on Elizabeth's hands. She squeezed back reassuringly.

"No, there's no need. It will go away," she assured. She took another deep breath, then she took a step away from her sister. She could do this.

First step, ball.

She would deal with Mr Darcy and all the bullshit later.

She stepped inside and immediately set forth to some side away place where she could hide away for a little while. Maybe she would join in dancing sometime soon though. Dancing did look fun and Elizabeth had enjoyed it too, so that was nice.

"-but not handsome enough to tempt me. Go back to your own partner-"

She hesitated at the sound of familiar words spoken in a familiar tone and by the time she remembered why they were so familiar, she was caught. She had passed by the two of them, Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy, just as they were talking about her.

Or well, probably. She hadn't heard the beginning, and honestly, she hadn't even looked the man in the face, not unlike Mary, who stopped right behind her with a soft noise of surprise.

And oh boy, was he pretty.

Well, not pretty . But he was handsome. He was everything attractive- tall, broad and with an awkward sort of stiffness caused by his casually offensive remark caught by familiar ears. Or maybe it was the unfamiliar crowd.

She remembered that he hated being surrounded by unfamiliar people or something. Wasn't that his excuse for not dancing with anyone else in that exact ball?

Oh well, since she hadn't actually caught the whole harsh remark, she didn't have to pretend to be offended or actually end up slapping him in a manner completely unbefitting either of their stations or propriety in this day and age.

She could simply censure him and be done with him. Because she had to say something.

The two of them were stuck frozen, staring like two boys caught red handed with their hands down a cookie jar by their mother. And Mr Bingley looked like he was about to open his mouth to apologise.

Elizabeth just wanted to be done with this.

"Surely, sir, that wasn't a remark about any of the ladies in attendance here today?" She said, knowing clearly well, it was about her . Or well, most likely. "I doubt anyone here deserves such harsh words spoken aloud in a ballroom, for any reason you might have said them."

Her censure wasn't needlessly harsh but clearly stated. If they were dissing someone, they should at least have the courtesy to do it elsewhere.

"Apologies, Miss Bennet," Mr Bingley blurted, "I- My apologies!"

He looked so flustered and horrified at her words that her lips tilted into a small reassuring smile, and her mien turned far more pleasant from the slightly stiff way she had been trying to hold herself together.

"I did not take offence from you, Mr Bingley. But I hope that the company you keep is far more pleasant around your own chosen companions instead," she warned pleasantly with a smile. She curstesy'ed in greeting before turning around and walking away.

She wondered if she should have waited for Mr Darcy to speak, like he looked like he wanted to. But he was still hesitant enough that she could make her escape, and so she did.

She wondered if Mr Bingley understood her warning. Or if Mr Darcy did. Surely, as main characters or even supporting ones, they couldn't possibly be as stupid as the insipid people who Elizabeth had seen thus far.

At least Elizabeth and her had this in common, if they didn't like someone, they didn't even pretend to be pleasant with them. She had no energy for people who were plain annoying.

Mr Darcy though…

She sighed.

For someone who was supposed to be a love interest, he had stood there rather dumbly staring at her after his own harsh remarks were thrown back at him.

But well. Story or not, this…was her life, right?

She had to lead it her way.

Just.

It really was a shame that this story wouldn't go the way it originally had. Maybe she really would be the biggest shame of her family after all.

In this world, if not in the previous one.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth found a quiet corner to be in peace and Mary, who had followed her the whole time, took a seat beside her, looking at her with a slight frown.

"That was quite rude of you, sister," Mary said after Elizabeth seemed more settled. Elizabeth blinked in surprise.

"It was a little out of character, I suppose," Elizabeth offered a short smile, "but you have seen the way Mr Bingley has delighted in our sister's company. I believe something will come out of it, and I only wanted to be sure that this would not be a dalliance of a rich man."

Wow, Elizabeth was really good at popping out excuses for her actions. It didn't hurt that Elizabeth actually had done something similar before. Though with more indirect help from her father, and without any knowledge from Jane and her mother.

He had left their county after offering Jane some scanty poetry that Elizabeth had found it in herself not to shred only by virtue of the fact that it had made Jane laugh when Elizabeth had recited them in a funny voice.

Her mother still held that man's terrible poetry in the highest regard of compliments for Jane's beauty, all the while Elizabeth would have rather have had the chance to erase the entire event from her mother's memory.

"Were you, perhaps, referring to Mr Goldstein?" Mary asked inquiringly. Elizabeth barely stopped herself from clenching her jaw at the memory of that cur.

"Let us not speak of that man ," Elizabeth said the last word with enough loathing that Mary flinched in surprise. In a way, even Elizabeth had been naive in her thoughts. There were enough references to 'blooming like a freshly cut rose' or 'delicacy borne of beauty and thorns' that could be ignored once in a while, but painted a rather terrible picture in Elizabeth's more open knowledge.

They had made a joke of it once, how he had referred to a cut flower that bloomed, and thought nothing of it afterward aside from saying he had absolutely no knowledge of flowers and they had taken it as further proof that he was, in fact, an ignorant man taken in by Jane's beauty.

In hindsight, Elizabeth and her father had done a rather good job protecting Jane for her years of being out in society. Her father did not normally care, but when Elizabeth took action, he could never refuse her. His fondness of Elizabeth had saved their family from ruin, at least a few times, along with Mr and Mrs Gardiner's sensibility.

She was horrified at some of the near missed that she was rethinking of. Some were less threatening than they appeared, but even then, this time, for careless young women already out in society without proper protection, was a dangerous place. Even centuries ahead in the future, there were at least one in four women who had been taken advantage of, and here it was even more frightening.

The only thing that truly saved them was the fact that they rarely ventured out into London, thanks to her father.

But still, she hoped that Mr Bingley would love and cherish her sister. Elizabeth would throw all the signs of her affection for Bingley at the man, until he could have no doubt in the true nature of her affections. She had no idea if she would ever be able to convince the man to come back without a Mr Darcy doing all the heavy lifting.

And honestly, no matter how darkly his eyes roved across the dancing crowd, or how ever much he looked like he would be anywhere but there, both very appealing pictures-

(Okay, no, really. They, kind of, were.)

-she was in no state of mind to appreciate a man, no matter how fine.

Mary's lips tilted in a quirk.

"But, sister, it seems that scolding someone, did, in fact, take your mind off whatever issue you were ruminating over so severely. Should I be concerned?" She teased, but it held for barely a moment before her expression fell. Her hands twisted together in her lap with worry. "I was concerned today when I saw you leaving so abruptly. I had never before seen you looking so pale. I feared you might have fallen sick while we were all too busy," Mary confided, looking surprisingly upset. Elizabeth laughed kindly, not having to fake the warmth in her heart, at her sister's concern.

"Do not fear for me, Mary. Nothing can keep me down for long, as you well know. I was simply feeling sick and it has since passed," she assured. Mary didn't look convinced, and suddenly Elizabeth realised why.

Mary was the middle child after all. She must have dealt with her insecurity on her own for a while now. While Elizabeth had Jane and Lydia had Kitty, Mary was often left alone with her piano. Sure, Jane and Elizabeth always tried to include Mary, but it wasn't a natural state but one where attempts needed to be made consciously.

Elizabeth's voice dropped into a softer tone.

"I will be fine, Mary. Whatever I was thinking of will not keep me down for long either," she assured again, and this time Mary's shoulders relaxed.

"I believe you, Lizzy," she said quietly with a smile. "But perhaps it is time for you to dance as well! You have spent too much time not dancing today, and I fear all the men that were eagerly waiting for your and Jane's hand today, have instead turned their attention to your dear friend Miss Charlotte. She seemed quite eager for an escape too, last I saw her."

Elizabeth laughed.

"I suppose we must be her champions and save her from eager offers after all," she got up, a smile on her face, and Mary remained seated instead, watching Elizabeth with a smile of her own.

When Mary didn't get up, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at her.

"Well, come along now, Mary, we have a lady to save," she teased and her younger sister got up with a hesitant smile.

"Yes, of course, sister."

Fitzwilliam Darcy stood nearby, shadowed naturally by the surroundings, watching, as the two sisters made their way into the dance floor.

Elizabeth danced the night away with her sisters. Unsurprisingly less with Jane, but Mr Bingley seemed somehow even more welcoming when he met her next. Though he still couldn't take his eyes off Jane for more than 5 seconds at a time, and even that was difficult to ascertain.

Elizabeth kept her mind blank of any heavy thoughts and kept dancing and laughing. Making merry was important. It was always always important to enjoy your life.

And Elizabeth needed to know that life was worth enjoying right about now.

Either way, her mother was ecstatic beyond measure and Jane was far too happy to even listen to their mother's happy squeals, while Kitty and Lydia were dancing about happily because of the news about the regiment about to be stationed in their village.

And Mary stayed by Elizabeth's side the whole evening.

The ball ended with invites to the Bingley family, and Mr Bingley seemed nervous about Elizabeth's gaze on him though his own eyes followed Jane around like a lovesick puppy. Mr Darcy's eyes seemed to be boring a hole through Elizabeth's head, but at least, he seemed less likely to insult Elizabeth after her censure of it.

In the story, that had been the only time Elizabeth had received an insult from Mr Darcy but you never know, she might just spice it up with a couple dozen more.

After the ball was over and she was safely encased under her own bed sheets with a delighted Jane, Elizabeth eagerly squeezed out Jane's bubbles of happiness out from her and reassured her over and over that Mr Bingley seemed just about to fall over himself to please her for just a moment.

And when they finally went to sleep, Elizabeth smiled and thought of nothing more than the delight in Jane's bright eyes.

(She didn't think of how Darcy's eyes followed her the whole time. She didn't think about the moments she stole away, just to breathe and pretended it was because she was dancing too much.

She didn't think about how natural it felt to fall into being one Elizabeth Bennet even when her mind protested that it shouldn't be. That she was clearly a different kind of person from Elizabeth used to be.

She ignored the similarities that popped up the more she delved into Elizabeth's memories.)

(She was different, wasn't she?)

Chapter Text

Pride cometh before the fall.

It was one of the few sayings that Elizabeth had taken to heart in her childhood. Stories of people snubbed, returning to retaliate most fearsomely was held in delight by all, but Elizabeth, in all her youth, had decided that she would never be the sort of person to judge before she knew a person.

She was happy to see it as the truth for the rest of her life. Or at least, mostly. She was a good judge of character, and if she could not judge them, she held it in reserve until she could.

Among the attentions of their neighbours from Netherfield, Elizabeth held Miss Bingley to a particular standard. Miss Bingley knew how to comport herself with politeness, and held her sharp tongue in check only barely, during her acquaintanceship with just about anyone.

She had determined that her first goal to ascertain her sister's future love life, was to engage Miss Bingley. She had absolutely no idea about Darcy's inclinations, because he held on to his stoicity with such great stubbornness that it was almost amusing to watch other people try their best to have a conversation with the man and fail utterly.

Without Elizabeth talking with all her acquaintances about how snubbed she had been, they only saw Darcy's 10,000 a year and his arrogant facade where he talked to no one and nothing, in a way that was adequately untouchable. And her mother, while pleasant to the man, did not attempt to match anyone with him.

Elizabeth didn't want to touch the whole situation with a ten foot pole. She had no idea what to do about it and she truly just wanted to deal with one thing at a time. She had determined that the only thing she needed to do now was to make sure that Miss Bingley could acquiesce to her family at least.

To that end.

She needed to talk to her sisters.

"Mary, I need to talk to you," she ushered Mary out with a tilt of her head. Mary obediently complied with only a hint of confusion.

When they stood under the shade of a tree that Elizabeth had dragged her sister under, she felt a hint of hesitation. Mary was more sensible of her three younger sisters, but that wasn't out of any true influence of their parents and more from watching her two older siblings with a keen eye.

Similarly, Jane and Elizabeth were as they were because due to the influence of Mr and Mrs Gardiner during the time they were the most easily influenced. Their parents had been at the height of their affection, perhaps, and Jane and Elizabeth had often times met with Mr and Mrs Gardiner whenever their mother felt homesick.

Kitty and Lydia had been both the most influenced by the absence and presence or their parents. Lydia being the youngest, and under the protection of four older siblings, tended to be the most naive, carefree and bullish of all the sisters.

Kitty often showed more sense than Lydia, who let her stubbornness guided by naivity pull her away from any use of her brain. But Elizabeth still held hope. Sort of.

"Would this be about the invitation of Mr Bingley and his company to our home?" Mary asked first, when Elizabeth pondered on how to bring up the topic.

Mary had also been one more reason why Lydia was the way she was. Lydia had disliked Mary's quiet nature, calling her boring instantly, when her older sister reprimanded her, or asked her to maintain decorum or even because their hobbies did not match.

On the other hand, Lydia was jealous of both Jane and Elizabeth, but respected Jane the most due to her beauty, and how distant Jane's own nature brought her from Lydia.

Respect. It all came down to respect.

(She didn't think about Darcy's first proposal, utterly lacking in respect, which Elizabeth had rightly rejected.)

"Yes," she answered. "Jane liked Mr Bingley, and even a blind man could say that it was well reciprocated. Since he called on her, obviously, he wished to pursue her regardless of her lack of dowry, no doubt informed by his companions or Jane's attempted competition," she scoffed.

"Are you perhaps still annoyed with Mr Darcy?" Mary asked, her eyes showing a hint of amusement, but she still seemed both delighted and uneasy at Elizabeth's sudden regard for her in this situation. Elizabeth smiled.

"Perhaps just a little," she allowed. "But half of Meryton seems to agree with me, that he truly has shown an unpleasant side of his personality. Perhaps private dinners might shed more light to true character," she offered. Mary raised an eyebrow at her. Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"Regardless, what I hoped was that you could perhaps keep Miss Bingley occupied. Or Mrs Louisa Hurst. If you do not get along with Miss Bingley, I shall engage her instead." She walked back and forth as she talked. Mary watched her silently.

"Are you in favor of them then? Jane and Mr Bingley? I know of how you have separated matches that Jane or you have found unfavorable. Do you find this match well founded and evenly matched?" She asked. Elizabeth looked at her sister, feeling a tightness in her chest. Elizabeth had taken her family too much for granted. She had known nothing else, but there was something to be said about the way they all knew so much of each other, even the things unsaid.

"I want Jane to be happy," she told her sister. "I want you to be happy too, Mary." She tangled her fingers together and looked away. "I have long believed that I will not be able to marry. Perhaps I would accompany Mr and Mrs Gardiner. I really do not mind working to earn my own living. But marry-" here, she shook her head, "I cannot marry for convenience."

She hadn't married before either. Having only a dog, her friends and family, and the occasional date for company. Marriage was never something that she could take as easily as some her friends always seemed to have.

One was twice married and seemed ready for her third go. Another had married well and happy with a child of her own already, but ended up quite distant due to her family close at hand and friends in similar situations to herself. Few remained unmarried, some by choice, and some by convenience.

Elizabeth had never understood what could cause anyone to marry and divorce at the drop of a hat. And no matter the time, no matter who she was, she simply would not marry for something as silly as convenience.

She had never minded the hard road, and she would happily take it again, if she had to.

"If you like someone, Mary, you must tell me," she laid her eyes on her sister, who looked at her with a small happy smile, and she couldn't help but smile back. "But for now, it depends upon us to arrange for Jane's love match, for surely, none in our family can maintain enough decorum to welcome them all properly." She rolled her eyes with invitation into the joke, and Mary's giggles gratified her.

"So you must have Mrs Hurst or Miss Bingley talk. Keep them engaged, talk about London season, if you have to," she grasped Mary's hand and looked at her seriously in the eyes. "Jane's happiness depends on it, all right?"

Mary nodded solemnly.

"I will convince Jane to speak with Lydia. And I shall speak with Mama, though I have absolutely no confidence in my ability to convince her ," she smiled sheepishly at the thought.

"Lizzy, I'm sure Jane will appreciate all you are doing for her," Mary assured, a smile in her eyes as she squeezed her hands. "I know I would."

Elizabeth smiled back.

Reassured, she went onto her next sister of choice.

Jane was easy to convince, even in her shyness, to talk to Lydia, so she may maintain decorum. She wasn't sure exactly what was said, but Jane blushed brightly and Lydia kept giggling every time Mr Bingley's name came up, but Jane had assured her that Lydia would try her best to not overstep.

Her mother was a completely different matter. Busy as she was, arranging the house to her liking for the guests arriving, she barely had time to talk to Elizabeth. But she insisted until her mother sighed and asked her to speak, and fast.

Undeterred, Elizabeth told her that while she agreed Jand and Bingley could be quite happily married, she wasn't sure his sister and his extended family would think the same. She brought up Darcy's name, because already his taciturn and arrogant nature was spread all across Meryton, even without Elizabeth actively encouraging it, and her mother, after much arguing, decided that she could attempt to know even the most unpleasant man or woman with Jane's happiness on the line.

And so, Elizabeth unknowingly convinced her whole family that Jane and Mr Bingley were meant to be, after only a single meeting between the two.

(Not that there were many protests, but doubts were always common. With her feverish desire to see this through properly, doubts seem to vanish even more quickly, for if even Elizabeth was so thoroughly convinced, then surely, surely, this was a match made by fate.)

(Elizabeth was just throwing herself into this simply so she could avoid thinking of everything else, and slip into her role with much more ease. A role that she would decide for herself, thank you very much.)

The evening was surprisingly nice.

With some prodding, Mary talked to Miss Bingley over her shyness, and when Miss Bingley started talking about the London season at length, Kitty and Lydia were unexpectedly entranced, becoming a happy, if rowdy, audience to her stories of the men she found great pleasure in looking down at 

Perhaps an unsuitable topic, but Lydia's eyes held a growing respect for Miss Bingley and Mary was excused to only interrupt if Lydia seemed to be getting somewhere unpleasant in the line of conversation. Her mother attempted to cajole Mr Darcy into a proper conversation but upon seeing her mother's temper rise at his complete unwillingness to attend to it, she gently redirected her mother to talk to Mrs Lousia Hurst, who was a better conversation partner as a married woman herself, even if her husband was truly an uncaring man of a sort she had never before met.

Elizabeth instead asked Mr Darcy about his life, and pulled out that he had studied in Cambridge, he thought highly of his sister, Georgiana, and that he really wished to not be there in Meryton (but with her instead). She remembered the story of Wickham almost ruining Georgiana, which had happened barely a few months ago, and attempted to hide her own wince. She told him about her father's library, and with a certain amount of glares and narrowed eyed looks, her father was sufficiently enthused into a conversation with the man, which he took to, only a little better than he had with her.

But there was a gradual shift, as she looked around the dinner table. She had managed to arrange adequate conversation partners and despite the fact that Lydia still managed to get too enthusiastic about certain topics, Miss Bingley seemed to preen under the attention and praise Lydia lavished with all the understanding of the youngest among five sisters.

Kitty seemed a little surprised though, but somehow managed to stay in the conversation, even as it seemed to go into a territory of understanding that only Miss Bingley and Lydia seemed to have.

Mary shot Elizabeth a quiet smile and kept Kitty more distracted, allowing Lydia and Miss Bingley to have their conversation in peace. Jane and Mr Bingley seemed lost in their own worlds and with so much of her sister's attention divided, they were left to have quiet conversations that left them both smiling brightly and shyly at each other.

And so, Elizabeth took a glance at Jane's happy face to steel herself, and completely distracted every attempt her mother made to talk about Mr Bingley's fortunes and instead talked about how happy they seemed to be, and how she had rarely seen Jane so animated and how Mr Bingley must call upon Jane, and it was Jane's evening.

Even as she got embarrassed, or flushed red, or shyly made eye contact with Mr Bingley, with Elizabeth completely and utterly focused on the task at hand, everything went perfectly for Jane. She felt delighted, and her heart soared the more she talked to Mr Bingley.

With such complete support from both their families, Jane was quite happy indeed. And when they finally left, while Mr Darcy and Mr Hurst still seemed like they could care less, Mr Bingley and Jane looked quite devastated at the separation, and so once again, an invitation for dinner was sent and happily accepted.

Even Caroline Bingley, though seemed to sneer down on Lydia's country manners, seemed to hold her ability to manipulate men in well enough regard to condescend her by using her name. Surprisingly, it was Elizabeth Bennet who became the sister that seemed to disappear in the crowd.

But for once, Elizabeth glowed under the lack of attention. She exchanged secretive looks of success with Mary and was gratified at the way things went. And convinced herself that the lack of interest towards her from the supposed male love interest was of no interest to her.

So what if only Elizabeth could make him fall for her? Wasn't that what she had thought when she had realised where and when she was? Elizabeth was the woman for Fitzwilliam Darcy, and she was not her.

This was a man, who would not have his woman. If anything, he was the pitiful one. She wasn't losing out on anything. She wasn't supposed to have anything in the first place.

And so they all left and Jane had another enchanted night to speak of, where everything went right and she was so very gratified by the fact that Elizabeth had seen into her and Mr Bingley's heart almost instantly and how she was already so very happy at the attentions he lavished so generously on her.

Elizabeth wanted to assure her that he would make her the offer of marriage but she didn't know. For that, she definitely needed to recreate the getting-sick-in-Netherfield happen.

As her mother was unexpectedly delighted at Elizabeth's very active encouragement of Jane's current suitor, an achievement no other suitor in the history of Jane's long list of callers had managed, she was sure that it would be far easier to convince her mother of her own schemes when they had such a similar goal.

Unfortunately, this meant that her father was slightly put off by her behaviour, and Elizabeth spent some time with her father telling him about how happy Jane seemed and that even Mr Bingley seemed to return her regard in a manner so clear that Elizabeth felt inclined to help the couple along.

Elizabeth took advantage of the foundation of relationships Elizabeth had built with her family and used them to create a better path for them all. Her mother still talked loudly about Mr Bingley's money, but it was interspaced by how happy she was to see the way Jane was positively shining under Mr Bingley's attention, or how she seemed to almost float from happiness.

Elizabeth privately hoped that she would succeed in not allowing the two to separate because she could not bear to see Jane's happiness be crushed underfoot so cruelly.

The consecutive dinners went similarly well, and Jane and Mr Bingley's regard for each other grew with each passing night where plenty of people actively prevented interruptions to their conversations. Unexpectedly, Miss Bingley's attention on Lydia seemed to have made her look at craftier ways to manipulate men and she not too subtly attempted to ask such things from Jane and then her mother. In the end, Elizabeth ended up coaching the eager Lydia about a few things, all the while trying to tell her how it could be used in reverse by an unpleasant gentleman as well.

The warnings went over her head, but she listened attentively at any ways to capture the men's attention from Elizabeth's words, and then proceeded to talk to Miss Bingley about them the following evening in a manner that suggested she had come up with them.

There were even some times that Miss Bingley unexpectedly collaborated with a few of the opinions Lydia gave and the two seemed to secretively develop a relationship right in front of them all, to the surprise of just about everyone.

Even Mr Bingley came out of his reverence for her sister to comment on how unexpected it was to see Miss Bingley so thoroughly engaged and in such an animated manner. Here, Miss Bingley glanced at Mr Darcy, cleared her throat and proceeded to talk of topics far more appropriate. Elizabeth and Mary engaged either mother or Kitty, depending on time and convenience for the rest of the evenings, growing tired even though Mary recited Sermons and said that it was a sort of work that she took pleasure from because she knew she was doing it for Jane.

The Bennet family, unfortunately had far too much energy to spare, and Elizabeth took frequent and long walks in the mornings to steel her mind for the evening and Mary played the pianoforte and recited Sermons more vigorously to keep away any companions.

Jane was invited for breakfast once, when their dinner plans were otherwise engaged and unexpectedly, Elizabeth was invited along with Lydia. She understood the reasoning, of course. She was the next eldest, so she must chaperone, and Lydia was actually Miss Bingley's chosen companion.

Her pride took a hit, but it was one that she would not nurture, because her influences seemed to have made even better changes that she had expected. Lydia was being mentored in a way, by Miss Bingley. And she could only hope that it would mean that she wouldn't choose to run away with Mr Wickham, if only because it would shame Miss Bingley.

The morning was bright and sunny, and Jane blushed prettily from Lydia and Elizabeth's readings as they reached Netherfield. Lydia was in awe as she gasped about this and that, giggling as she wondered at the prices and Elizabeth gently guided her away from the prices and into looking at the taste of the decorations, which could certainly tell much about the attitude and attention to detail one's host paid.

In less than a fortnight, Lydia had become a better student, simply by being in Miss Bingley's haughty company. She might still turn up her nose at Elizabeth or the rest of her family, but her words had had some merit with a woman Lydia respected in the art of womanly affections, and so she listened far more than she ever had in her life.

In turn, Miss Bingley, too, seemed like she didn't dislike their family as long as Lydia kept looking up at her in awe. Louisa Hurst, was certainly a woman who did not seem to care about much, and Elizabeth suspected that no matter the number of sisters, Caroline Bingley was in truth, lonely and desperately in need of a pair of kind ears to her witty snark. Even her constant desire for affections from Mr Darcy was clearly at a decline with Lydia there, even if she still made every attempt.

But still, it was by far, the most elegant set of attempts she had seen, a sort of elegance that she had thought Miss Bingley incapable of, as she had seen from the books and even the movies.

People were always more humane than they seemed when seen from a biased point of view. Miss Bingley was kinder, but Mr Darcy certainly wasn't.

She was the only one without a companion to speak to, and though she could join Miss Bingley and Lydia or even Mrs Hurst, she did not. Elizabeth had found his quiet insulting, but she had felt with many a people who had social anxiety. She understood how being in an unpleasant state, in the middle of a ball, any person with social anxiety would turn acidic if they could not make their escape.

She had read in the stiffness of his arms, and the tendency to find the best and most unobtrusive way to hide, the hints of his social anxiety. He was still not comfortable, even in Netherfield, and that, she found to be quite sad.

He had been there a while now and though he was far more comfortable in Netherfield than at their house, it still wasn't the ease with which her friend would have invited her to her house. Though it wasn't a good comparison to make.

After all, they weren't friends. She was a stranger, intruding on him in his friend's house, so he could talk to someone he liked.

But that wouldn't put her off.

"I have heard that Netherfield has one of the largest libraries in the county, perhaps, Mr Darcy would indulge me with a few names that are deemed acceptable," she asked, tilting her head curiously at how he would disengage from this conversation.

"I doubt we have similar tastes," he replied promptly, and said nothing more. Her lips twitched but she didn't smile.

"I was hoping to see the library so," she said, directing her conversation towards Mr Bingley. She wasn't sure if he caught what she was implying, but he turned his smiling face towards Jane.

"Might I trouble you to stay a little longer so your sister can peruse through my library as she wishes?" He asked. Jane looked at Elizabeth, her eyes begging slightly, and Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"Might I suggest that the two of you take a walk outside? It is a lovely day here," she offered, and Jane's eyes brightened so much she thought her sister would pull her into a hug. Instead Mr Bingley quickly arranged everything before she could change her mind. After all, Elizabeth was the intended chaperone, and with her out of the way, the uncaring Louisa would keep an eye on them. Darcy, on the other hand, was left to guide Elizabeth to the library, because she didn't know where it was. While Lydia stayed with Miss Bingley.

The walk wasn't awkward, but simply silent. He guided her quietly, and when they reached the door, she stopped, her gaze set on the door.

"Would the windows from the library have a view of the grounds?" She asked, quietly, a small smile on her lips. Darcy's eyes narrowed.

"Yes," he answered. "It provides a full view."

Her smile turned wry.

"I see, thank you for the escort, sir," she curtseyed before moving the open the door, only to find that Darcy had opened them for her. She looked at him surprised, before turning back to the library.

It was a single floor, but wide. Not entirely dissimilar to a small public library, even if this was only for one house. The number of books weren't as many as she had hoped, but the library was beautiful.

Books, in a time without the internet, was a blessing. She could get lost in one, and forget about the time and place, and find peace within herself in a way she hadn't had many opportunities for.

Books were an escape, but they were, most importantly, a gateway. A path into the heart of the one who wrote it for the one who read it.

She looked at the books and smiled, then she turned and saw Darcy still standing by the doorway.

She smiled warmly.

"Would you like to read alongside me? I suspect a fellow reader in you, sir," she teased.

He paused.

"If you wouldn't mind," he asked, his tone sounded more awkward than arrogant and she felt a part of her soften.

"I would not," she told him.

"Very well," he replied.

And so she found a book, sat by the window and watched Jane laugh, and slowly went through the pages.

Unfortunately, they had a prior engagement for lunch, and Jane, Elizabeth and Lydia were left to have it with Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst and Mr Hurst, before returning home promptly after.

Her mother looked delightedly at their late return and extracted all manner of details from a chattering Lydia, and a shy Jane, and looked favourably upon Elizabeth for her timely intervention.

And of course, Mr Bingley and company were invited for dinner within a week. The forth time, to her knowledge.

It would add up Jane and Mr Bingley's accumulative encounters to six, aside from the ones where they passed each other by, after offering greetings.

And Elizabeth realized that watching her sister actively fall in love was, really, so much better than reading it in a book. It was beautiful, the way she bloomed, and her emotions practically spilled out of her, like she couldn't contain it.

Their eyes met often and all the time.

And it was perhaps, this reciprocity, that made Elizabeth's heart burst with delight.

She had never thought one being could find such a complete pleasure for another person, but Elizabeth did. She found herself so happy for Jane.

She was experiencing new, happy things for herself, and what could be bad about it? She felt like nothing could go wrong, even though her mind insisted otherwise.

Elizabeth would protect Jane from anything that could go wrong, she decided. And here, her mind and heart were in full agreement.

Chapter Text

Was it weird that the story that had put her off this life was the one thing that was easing her in? The one thing that kept her going?

No matter her panic, worry and hesitations, life had to go on. Her life didn't feel like a story. It didn't feel like they were words on a paper, but instead a life she was leading.

She was alive, here and now, and living this life with the oddities and nitty gritty details that no book would be writing about. Where once, she used to wake up alone, with the licks of a dog on her face, here, she woke up beside an older sister.

She used to have an older sister before too, and she had never had any younger ones. But Elizabeth had three younger siblings and it felt completely natural to have them by her side.

Mary preferred her own company to anyone else's but she had been happier recently, with Elizabeth's attention on her.

Lydia, fortunately or unfortunately, seemed to be doing the same. She talked about Miss Bingley all the time, like it was her new favorite topic. She talked about what Miss Bingley said were appropriate measures to capture an official man, how to use propriety necessary to society to make men do what she wanted to, and topics that were exceedingly inappropriate.

Elizabeth was quite uncertain about what to do about this new situation with Lydia. While Jane was finding her happily ever after, Lydia seemed like she was about to walk onto a very dark place in society.

Without the protections afforded to Miss Bingley by her fame and status, Lydia could ill afford to do many of her recent ideas.

Caroline Bingley had always been one vicious bitch, but Elizabeth wasn't sure if Lydia was being led honestly, or with malicious intent. She wondered if she should have kept a closer eye on the two of them. As it was, Lydia seemed to be subtly rebuffing Kitty from her schemes to get attention from the officers about to arrive in Meryton.

And while all this happened, it was Mary that Elizabeth grew the closest to. She talked, and Mary talked and they both got things off their chest that they both had, perhaps, never talked about before.

Mary would talk about an incident that happened in their childhood sometimes, and Elizabeth would remember and be surprised by how little she had thought about it, or how much some small part of it had affected her when she would have cared less if it had happened to her childhood. Sometimes, the differences between Elizabeth and her would hit her over the head and remind her that she truly hadn't lived this life herself, no matter what her memories attempted to convince herself.

Sometime she would think of Jane, or Mary or her mother and think of the words laid out to describe their characters and then she would remember that they were real people to her and feel flabbergasted 

But often, she would almost forget that she had once lived a life where everything was a story from a book and would think of her life, and think of Elizabeth's and it wouldn't feel disturbing or give her a sense of discrepancy.

She was Elizabeth, but Elizabeth wasn't her.

It was an odd sort of distinction that she could only make because she had the memories of Elizabeth inside her mind. But it wasn't an easy distinction to make.

Her mind was her own, but sometimes she would have these random thoughts that were most definitely the kind that Elizabeth would think of, and she would force herself to repeat to herself that she was not the Elizabeth Bennet whose biggest folly in life was her prejudice.

She liked Darcy, sure, she wouldn't deny that. But she wasn't the kind of woman who depended on love, who was convinced that only the deepest love could convince her into matrimony. While she believed that love certainly could convince her into matrimony, she had also seen far too many people who fell apart when their love wasn't enough.

Fitzwilliam Darcy wasn't the only man in the world, and Elizabeth hadn't seen much of the world either. Only after she ventured out, would she learn what she might want from this world. But perhaps, a part of those thoughts came from the fact that she certainly wasn't Elizabeth Bennet.

She didn't even know what the man had even liked about her aside from this one comment about her eyes and then declaring undying love for her. She was sure, whatever he had seen in Elizabeth, he wouldn't see in her.

And she admitted that it made her just the slightest bit envious. After all, what young woman could have claimed to have read Pride and Prejudice and not fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy?

She certainly had found them unbearably sweet. Even in their misunderstandings, they had a sense of innocence amidst it all. Something that she doubted that she would find. She sighed to herself.

Only she could be lucky enough to live as a main character, and then be unlucky enough to be so far different to barely even have a chance at what the world was basically offering to her on a silver platter.

Well, at least, here her mother and Mr Darcy weren't constantly throwing verbal darts at each other every time he was in the same room. Mr Bingley was distracting enough for her mother, and since she had escaped during the first half of the ball, neither she nor anyone else heard his rebuffs of her.

But it was somehow far more humiliating somehow, for her mother to even have a casual regard for him as he was now.

"I have heard that you have stayed an unnatural amount of time in the library with Mr Darcy, while Jane walked the grounds with Mr Bingley," her mother asked her conspiratorially. Lydia and Kitty shared a look that left no doubt who had told her mother and giggled, while Mary raised a doubtful eyebrow. Elizabeth froze.

"Mama," she protested, "you remember what kind of man Mr Darcy is!" She was a little ashamed of using the same old excuse, but hadn't it worked the best? Elizabeth certainly never had to deal with her mother teasing her about the man, when everyone thought she hated him.

Her mother hummed and hawed at her words, but in the end, dismissed them entirely.

"Why! He is the richest man in all of Derbyshire! While he may be arrogant, it is nothing if you truly hold some amount of regard for him and can see past it all, Lizzy!" She exclaimed, delightedly and Elizabeth groaned internally. She knew that her mother was already building a story inside her head, and she would have to endure embarrassment to make sure that Mr Darcy wouldn't take it as designation on him and run away with Mr Bingley while they were in the beginning of their dating phase.

She would endure much worse for Jane, but it was humiliating that Elizabeth might truly have to lie about something that she had honestly spent some time considering.

Maybe she was to be the next Caroline Bingley.

She scoffed at the thought.

Then felt ashamed of herself for doing so. Because Caroline Bingley was caustic, but she had still been showing Lydia the ropes, so to say. Elizabeth would not mind what kind of person Lydia was, as long as she kept herself happy, and brought no shame to her or her sister's chances of marriage.

Miss Bingley wasn't nice, but she certainly hadn't been the cold shrew like she was in the book. Perhaps it was because they had no confirmation about their lack of connections, aside from their lack of wealth.

Sometimes she despaired at the number of things society said they lacked. But Jane and Mr Bingley were meant to be and so they would be.

"Mama, please don't," she groaned, but her mother was already lost in the thoughts of having another daughter married.

In a way, she understood her mother. She loved all of them and wanted them to be happy. But she also was a little stuck in her own mind, in her own world, where everything was better than it really was. A defence mechanism for herself, so she could have wilful blindness to all the bad parts that she didn't want to acknowledge.

It was something Elizabeth wished she could do but knew she couldn't. She wouldn't forsake her reality, nor could she afford to. She was stuck in the middle of a situation where she couldn't look away, not even for a moment to pretend that everything was okay.

Everything was very much not okay, and Elizabeth was trying her best, every single day, to think and do and make the best of the situation life had thrown at her.

Jane's happiness soothed her, but also felt like it was a part of some delusion she was in. She was following the story, wasn't she? Was she about to become a fodder to it as well? No wait, she was supposed to be the main character right?

What a goddamn funny joke.

What a damn good joke.

Her family would have been laughing by now.

But-

Her nails dug sharply into the meat of her palm, and she took a deep, steady breath before she regained her composure. She was Elizabeth Bennet and she wasn't Elizabeth Bennet.

Whoever she was, she would find out. She would find out on her own. One step at a time. Slowly.

One day at a time.

So Elizabeth put on a smile on her face and pretended all was right with the world.

Charlotte invited the Bennet family to Lucas Lodge for a party. A gathering that would take place and Mr Bingley and his company were invited as well.

Mary was asked to play the piano there, and Elizabeth took upon herself to spend time planning out a duet with her.

Jane had found herself surprised by the slight changes in Elizabeth that had escaped her notice, but Elizabeth distracted her once again by talking about how her beau may well propose to her, and so Elizabeth needed to start thinking about the after since she couldn't possibly intrude upon newlyweds.

Jane flushed at her bold words, and then flushed deeper because she truly hoped for it and tried to both reassure her sister that she was always welcome, all the while trying to deny the fact that they might actually marry.

It was the hilarious teasing Jane, she had found out. While Jane and Elizabeth still confided in each other, Elizabeth talking about some of the things she had taken to slyly doing, to keep Jane up to date, at the same time, it served its purpose of teasing her and making her sister blush with happiness and affection.

Sometimes Jane would go all misty eyed and wonder how Elizabeth had always been so unconvinced of true love, but she had always helped Jane out with her suitors, for good or ill, every time without complaint. She wished Elizabeth would find herself something similar too, and Elizabeth would smile and say that Jane's happiness was her own too.

Sometimes Elizabeth would lay awake and stare at Jane think of asking-

'I wonder how you do it, Jane. I wonder how you fall in love so readily and easily.'

'Is this a product of the time? Raised to believe that women are only good for marriage, and so they fall in love so much easier?'

Elizabeth had doubted she would even have seen Mr Darcy if she hadn't known of their story. She was sometimes quite oblivious to men unless she was hit on rather blatantly. A product, she used to joke, of her always demanding attention from her own family.

She would have rather not have known the story at all, but then she would remember Jane's part and she would reevaluate her priorities. Jane was worth a lot, and she knew that Jane would have done the same for her.

Or well, her.

And then, before her thoughts became too depressing, Elizabeth would close her eyes, and let her dreams take her away.

The Lucas Lodge was a comfortable enough place to hold the number of people invited to it. Mary went straight for the piano and Lydia and Kitty found a couple officers to latch on to.

Elizabeth found herself frowning at Denny, Lydia's chosen officer for the night, and found her brow furrowing with concern when she noticed the look in his eyes and the way his hands strayed on the edge of propriety. At least, Kitty's chosen officer seemed far too shy and far too grateful to have been blessed by her presence to even think of anything untoward.

But she didn't like the look of this Denny.

By the time Mr Bingley and his company arrived, even Jane was beginning to look discomforted by the dark look on Elizabeth's eyes. Mary incited Elizabeth into playing a duet with her and for the duration of the song, where they both ended up singing and giggling, Elizabeth ended up laughing brightly.

Even Charlotte had come by to speak about how she hadn't had to ask Elizabeth to sing and how Mary's tune sounded so much more cheerful recently. Her father agreed in a lively manner, speaking fondly of Mary's skill but finding more cheer in her recent songs.

Mary blushed happily which made her look practically radiant, almost not unlike Jane, and Elizabeth wondered at what proper attention from a single sister had caused in Mary.

Feeling far more cheerful, Mary started a jaunty tune that she knew people enjoyed, as in to let them have a share in her happiness, and Lydia pulled that man into a dance. Elizabeth, once again, watched them with a concerned look on her face.

Charlotte joined her not long after.

"Eliza, you have spent, perhaps, the whole evening staring at your own sister. Must you watch over her so carefully?" She asked, surprisedly. "I would have thought that you would be watching over Jane and Mr Bingley, as they seem quite comfortable talking on their own."

Elizabeth glanced at Jane and Mr Bingley before going back to stare at Lydia.

"Mr Bingley is an honorable man," she said, "this one I very much doubt." She frowned when this Denny, whatever his title might be, teased Lydia by tugging at her hair. That was definitely inappropriate. She should-

"Eliza!" Charlotte interrupted, resting a hand on her arm. "They are dancing."

Elizabeth's lips flattening with an upset pout at being put out like that.

"I am aware that they are dancing, Charlotte, but that was clearly inappropriate. Lord knows how they even came in through the front door when they could not maintain a decent conduct with a girl so young," she protested.

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, quietly sassy. Elizabeth suppressed a smile.

"I am aware that my family does tend to get excitable," she admitted reluctantly, wincing when she looked in her mother's direction, "but even then, he was being inappropriate, and Lydia does not understand society enough to begin to guess why."

She thought back to Goldstein, a suitor who was a dark mark on her history of scaring away many a suitor, for she hadn't given him his proper recompense. Perhaps she should make up by getting rid of this Denny.

Her lips curled into a mischievous smirk.

"Oh no," Charlotte murmured, "I know that look."

"I'm sure you do," Elizabeth admitted. Her eyes set on Denny with humorless eyes. Charlotte let out a quiet breath before-

"All right, what have you thought of?" She asked, and Elizabeth's smirk softened into a genuine smile. Charlotte was a dear friend and she wished her all the happiness into the world as well.

She wondered if she had been as happy as Mrs Collins.

"Well, I was hoping for a rather physical method here-"

And the rest, as they say, was history.

Chapter Text

The party at Lucas Lodge went surprisingly well. Lydia abandoned her Denny for a while to seek out Miss Bingley who had been wearing a truly ugly expression as the young girl cheerfully went to her.

Elizabeth and Charlotte had taken the opportunity to ahem, 'dispose' of Lydia's partner. And after he had run away with his tails tucked behind him, she and Charlotte had shared a look of success and just barely avoided a sobbing Lydia running away from the gathering and a Miss Bingley who looked slightly conflicted, but turned her nose up at both Charlotte and Elizabeth when she saw the two, before making her way back in, with barely a legible greeting, whether because she was too deep into her own emotions or because she found the Bennets far too crude for her now, neither could guess.

Charlotte and Elizabeth had shared another glance before separating to go their own ways. Elizabeth went after Lydia, and Charlotte went back in to check in on everything.

Lydia had spilled not a single word of what Miss Bingley had revealed to her, and Elizabeth could only offer her own arms to her younger sister, hoping it would comfort her from whatever injury her heart had taken.

Miss Bingley was a human being, with her own virtues and vices, and Elizabeth did not hold her rebuffs or feelings against her. This one was clearly due to Lydia's own behavior and not due to their family or connections. And Elizabeth could only respect Miss Bingley's way of handling it.

If it had been her mother, no doubt she would have created a chaos if there was someone she didn't like, making her displeasure known to all.

Miss Bingley had earned her respect with her actions with Lydia. Unfortunately, there was nothing much that Elizabeth could offer the other lady besides her company. She wondered if it indeed would be enough.

The next morning came a very drained Lydia, and Jane spent some time caring for her, until she was almost late for breakfast. Which, unfortunately meant, that there was a note from Netherfield awaiting Jane that her mother desperately wanted to get her hands on.

Jane had barely opened the note when Kitty and mother crowded around her to read it over her shoulder, mother especially read it aloud so the rest of the family did not have to get up from their chairs.

Elizabeth, on hearing the contents of the note, nearly groaned aloud. She had remembered the stay in Netherfield where Jane had fallen ill, but she hadn't remembered that Jane had received a note asking to come over for dinner with the two ladies.

When had Elizabeth even gone? The only thing she remembered about the thing had been-

'Her hem, six inches deep in mud!'

And 

'My good opinion, once lost, is gone forever'

'Oh dear, I cannot laugh at you for that'

The humor in the first time had caught her attention. The second moment had been one of her favorite moments about their relationship. It had been a single moment of acknowledgement that had made her heart skip a beat.

She grazed her nails against the meat of her palm and redirected her attention to the table where Jane looked slightly worried about her prospects. Elizabeth offered her a reassuring smile.

"If you do indeed fall sick, worry not sister, for I will nurse you back into good health," she teased, "though I believe you would much rather have Mr Bingley attend to you instead of your beloved sister."

"Lizzy!" Jane coloured, gasping, and almost on cue, both Kitty and Lydia laughed. Lydia, feeling a little better after Elizabeth's teasing of Jane, ate more of her breakfast. Mary's smile wasn't missed either.

And so Jane gave in and went on horseback to Netherfield and Elizabeth wondered if it would be too rude to drag the doctor with her to check on Jane. They had called for the doctor in the story, too right?

Moments like these made her wish she had remembered more of the story than random moments from the books and movies. If she had known she would be in this situation… hm, she probably would have spent too much time preparing for it, now that she thought about it.

It's best as it is. She knew the main points and that just had to be enough. She would make it so. She believed in her straightforwardness enough to cut through any number of misunderstandings that could be thrown her way. Specially with her sister's happiness on the line.

When morning came, Elizabeth was ready to go. And to her surprise, when the news came, during breakfast, that Jane was sick, Lydia stood determinedly by Elizabeth's side, and convinced mother to allow them to take the carriage for unlike her sister, she was not inclined to walk three miles till Netherfield.

The two of them set off together and Lydia avoided Elizabeth's eyes in a manner that felt almost resentful. She raised an eyebrow, amused by the look on her face. She recognized it easily, of course.

Lydia was pouting.

"You can handle your business as you please, Lydia. I wouldn't interrupt," Elizabeth said, her lips curving into a soft smile. Lydia glanced up at her before looking away, one of her hands going up to tug gently at a strand of hair.

"You don't have to do anything like that," she frowned, "we came here to see Jane, and that is all," she looked away, the lie far too clear and obvious with the hesitation that sat upon her shoulders.

"Yes," Elizabeth agreed, "of course."

Lydia's shoulders lightened just a little, at her easy acquiesce. Elizabeth felt a sense of pride at her sister's courage. No matter what kind of girl Lydia was- young, naive, and childish while at the same time believing only the best would come to her- she had chosen to go back to Netherfield and solve her problem with Miss Bingley herself, after only two days.

None of the Bennets, it seemed, were at a loss when it came to courage.

She wasn't sure of the nature of relationship Lydia had with Miss Bingley, but from the conflict in Miss Bingley's eyes and the courage that Lydia was showing, it seemed to have become something with a certain amount of weight to it. If Lydia managed to convince Miss Bingley of her friendship yet again, then, Elizabeth would truly dare Mr Darcy to tear Jane and Mr Bingley apart. Because he wouldn't dare succeed.

The carriage ride to Netherfield was the quietest Lydia had ever been when in the same room as Elizabeth. Often, she would see Lydia open her mouth to speak, but something would hold her tongue. Elizabeth just calmly kept looking at the view without offering any encouragement.

But she did wonder what Lydia wanted to talk about. Give her an explaination? Talk about officers again? Talk about Jane maybe?

They had never been ones to small talk with each other. Lydia could talk to men, and so she had felt a sense of superiority over all her other sisters, even Jane, who was acknowledged as a great beauty, for her ability to do so smoothly.

But Miss Bingley was different.

Elizabeth wondered what getting to know the older woman made her feel- inferiority? Respect? Admiration?

She wasn't sure she would ever really know.

When their carriage stopped at Netherfield, Lydia and her eyes met, and in that instant, they seemed to understand something from one another. A compromise, or silent agreement. A treaty, more like.

With that understanding, the two of them stepped off the carriage and into Netherfield Park, to seek Jane. The two were led into a room holding Mr Darcy, Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst. Mr Darcy got to his feet at the sight of them, and there was a moment of silence.

"Apologies for the intrusion," she said with a curtsey, followed by Lydia, who stood only a little behind her. "We have come to inquire after my sister. I heard that she fell sick. May I be escorted to see her?"

Miss Bingley's eyes seemed to bore a hole though her.

"Yes, of course," her voice drawled, almost sarcastically. Elizabeth's eyes flickered to meet hers and there she found a tinge of her acerbic wit. She motioned for the man who had announced them, to bring them away.

She curtseyed quickly to the company before making her way out. Lydia quickly followed, looking like she was running away instead. Elizabeth placed a hand on her shoulder briefly, before following the man, and Lydia drew a breath, before following Elizabeth a little less hastily. Lydia's eyes rested on Elizabeth once more, wordlessly.

Elizabeth, in the other hand, was beginning to find her sister's silence almost too eerie. This was nothing like how Lydia was supposed to be, and yet, Lydia too kept looking at her like she was a stranger wearing Elizabeth's skin.

(She was.)

Chapter Text

Jane was pale, drawn and very much sleeping. Or so it would seemed. Her fever haze kept her going in and out of wakefulness as Mr Bingley explained to them outside Jane's room. While she was being attended to by one of the ladies who waited on Miss Bingley, she was coherent for barely half of the time.

Lydia quirked an eyebrow at the man, while Elizabeth accepted the thorough timeline of Jane's fever with aplomb, and took over caring for Jane. Her fever was quite high, but she wasn't coughing her lungs out, so that was reassuring. But a fever so high could be dangerous in and of itself, so she insisted on putting a wet cloth over Jane's forehead to cool her down.

Her fever had become quite entirely worse overnight, and despite the moments of coherency, it seemed to be getting even worse. Elizabeth quietly worried.

Mr Jones came by not long after and upon checking her over, decided that the wet towel was moderately helpful, and gave some tonics to decrease her fever.

Lydia disappeared after Mr Jones had arrived, and Elizabeth spent most of the day caring for her sister. The fever was high, but since Jane didn't have a weak constitution, Mr Jones was relatively certain that the fever would drastically decrease on the second day.

Jane would sometimes wake up, talk to Elizabeth, drink water that Elizabeth kept waking her to drink, eat the porridge that she forced her to eat and then go back to sleep. After feeding Jane in the afternoon, Elizabeth finally left the room when she received an invitation to eat, and Lydia sat at the table, attempting small talk with Mr Bingley, while trying to draw Miss Bingley into a conversation, rather futilely.

At the moment though, Miss Bingley could almost be compared to Mr Darcy, in their strong desire to not converse. But surprisingly, Miss Bingley didn't look uncomfortable or even disgusted, by Lydia's unceasing attempts to gain her attention. A relief, she was sure, for Lydia had seemed very out of sorts since their disagreement at Lucas Lodge.

Elizabeth thanked Mr Bingley for his courtesy and apologised for not properly paying attention to their hosts. Mr Bingley waved it off with a smile, saying that Lydia had done it (rather crudely, she understood, from the way Mrs Hurst turned her nose up at those words)  and then he inquired about Jane.

"Her lucidity comes and goes, but her fever remains. Mr Jones feared that it would be difficult to move her if she remained in such a state," she bowed her head to Mr Bingley. "My apologies for the imposition, but could you allow her to stay for a day more, until she can be safely brought back home?"

Lydia's head whipped around in blatant shock. Elizabeth did not acknowledge the shock on her face, instead staring at Mr Bingley. She was well aware that her mother would disapprove, loudly and immensely at that. But she would not impose on them if it would cause conflict in their family.

Also, she needed to know Mr Bingley's standing, even when Miss Bingley was clearly in disapproval. She had done a lot for the couple, even if they would never truly know how much without knowing how it would have originally gone, and she would, indeed, do more. But that wouldn't mean she wouldn't do unto Mr Bingley a number of tests for him to pass.

To think the man had just left in the story. Familiar disapproval she understood, but she could not stand to have even a hint of doubt about their relationship if they were to wed. Specially in the here and now, when they had a little more intimate understanding of the Bennet family.

Mr Bingley did not disappoint.

His face immediately turned distressed at her words and he reassured her, with great animation, that she, Jane and any of her sisters were welcome to Netherfield for as long as they needed. And then Mrs Hurst cleared her throat, and Mr Bingley added, almost smoothly, that, yes of course, she should stay (only) until Jane gets better.

Until she is in the pink of health, and was hale and hearty.

With not a single speck of injury or doubt of fever.

He emphasized her staying so clearly and with the addition so small and short as if to prevent her from hearing it altogether.

Such was the emphasis, that Elizabeth couldn't help let go of quite a bit of her reservations.

Miss Bingley snorted, rolling her eyes at the dramatics of her brother. Elizabeth smiled widely, and Lydia hid a giggle.

"Of course, good sir," she accepted. "Thank you for your kindness."

"No, no, the pleasure is all mine," he assured. "Not that it's a pleasure to see Miss Bennet sick, of course. Just that I could provide her with comfort, so she can get better."

"I'm sure she is as comfortable here as she would at home. If not more," she added at the end, only slightly cheeky. Mr Bingley smiled brightly at her approval.

Puppy , she deemed with a slightly different but similarly fond smile.

Mr Darcy suffered a brief coughing fit.

After preparations to stay were done with, and a letter sent back home to tell them to send for their clothes and to not come.

Mr Bingley had invited the sisters for Jane's comfort, but they had two of them there already. Any more would definitely be an imposition. And Elizabeth tried not to write down her resentful feelings at her mother's disregard of Jane's fever.

She hadn't thought as much of it either, but when she saw Jane, all she could feel was worry and anger at herself for not forcing her mother to send her in a carriage. They had given enough time to the couple to talk semi-privately and Elizabeth had practically left them alone when they came to Netherfield Park the last time.

If they had continued on with the courtship as it was, surely, the result wouldn't have been much different? They could have prevented Jane from being so sick, at least!

But Elizabeth knew it wasn't only her mother at fault. She too hadn't insisted on a carriage. She hadn't realised how sick Jane would have been. And her guilt caused her to feel even worse as she cared for Jane stringently.

Lydia, she knew, spent more time among the Bingley family, and from the times that required them to socialize, she could see Lydia was slowly getting through to Miss Bingley. On the second day, she actually pulled out a smile from her despite how guarded she still seemed.

Elizabeth had never realized how much Lydia must have needed someone like Miss Bingley in her life. Some whose approval she needed . And before Elizabeth had even realized she needed to do something, Lydia was already forging her way through.

The second day went by much more peacefully. Elizabeth could finally report that Jane's fever had gone down, though it had not completely broken, and Jane had welcomed many visits since she could finally stay awake for longer.

Out of all her visitors though, Mr Bingley stayed the longest, staying as long as he possibly could without intruding, since he wasn't allowed inside her bedroom without a chaperone. Honestly, Elizabeth was almost starting to find it annoying how often she was getting sidelined whenever Mr Bingley visited. Though she did incidentally end up accompanying Mr Darcy during the times he accompanied Mr Bingley, who seemed to have been just as sidelined by Mr Bingley, as her with Jane.

But, she also felt happy to see how much the two of them cared for each other. Jane positively glowed under the attention Mr Bingley offered to her, sickness or not. Both were quite happy to spend more time in each other's company.

That evening, Lydia openly teased Mr Bingley seemingly almost back to her old ways, and Elizabeth was content to read her own book, sometimes talking to whoever asked her something. Often, it was Lydia interrupting her, knowing just as well, that Elizabeth liked to read in silence, and before long, instead of sitting in quiet and doing their own thing like she was hoping for, they were, instead, talking.

And Elizabeth was in no mood to be picked by a combination of Lydia and Miss Bingley, who seemed to have found a grudge of some kind to hold against her. Or maybe venting misplaced feelings on the only other Bennet there. Elizabeth could safely say that the woman did seem the sort.

"So, Miss Bennet, I heard from your sister that you walk outdoors often," she would start. Then Lydia would pick up the thread.

"She does indeed, she is a very able walker."

"Oh dear, it must be quite a difficult hobby to maintain when the seasons change," Miss Bingley would say.

"Not at all," Elizabeth would smile back, hoping it would end it. But of course it wouldn't.

"It was such a pity that your sister had arrived on horseback," she started, and Elizabeth's eyes went to Lydia. Lydia looked away.

"It truly was. Had we realized that it was about to rain, I would never have allowed her to leave," Elizabeth answered, looking Miss Bingley straight in her eyes. "I am sure Miss Bingley, as gracious a hostess as you are, would have excused my sister from your plans due to unreasonable weather."

Miss Bingley's eyes narrowed over an open fan. She waved it gently over her face, forced into being given no option and not liking it one bit.

"Yes of course, but I fear that it really is a shame that your sister caught such a cold that would have made her unable to even move," Miss Bingley retorted resentfully. Elizabeth was displeased at the implication that Jane was lying, no matter how unreasonable the foundation for it was.

"I truly regret that Jane fell sick in such a manner. Truly, Mr Bingley's kindness is beyond reproach," Elizabeth smiled at Mr Bingley. Mr Bingley taking that as his cue replied back.

"It is no burden to have you or your sisters here, Miss Elizabeth," he replied, ever gracious and ever welcoming as he was wont to be.

Miss Bingley wouldn't do something as mundane as scowl but Elizabeth could read it in the brief look she shot her brother that she was indeed doing that.

She turned back to her book and hid a smile. She truly wondered if Mr Bingley had no idea what he was doing or if he realized and did it anyway for Jane's sake. It was nice to know that Mr Bingley wasn't as one dimensional as parts of the story seemed to suggest.

Mr Hurst really was rather one dimensional though. All he liked to do was eat, drink and lay about in a stupor. Truly as one dimensional as they came. And Louisa seemed to deem her husband as an extra luggage that she needed to carry around. It was a touch pitiful that two married people could be in such a way as well.

It might just be her opinion, but she would rather her sisters stay single than marry someone who would not care about them.

A marriage should be worth something.

That said, there was one more thing that she needed to do.

She closed her book after an appropriate amount of time.

"Mr Bingley," she said clearly. When he looked up, she smiled. "Might I request an escort back to Jane's room?"

Mr Bingley looked a touch troubled. Maybe Elizabeth's smiles gave her away. The look on her face always got a touch mischievous when she was planning something. It was how Charlotte and her father knew whenever she was up to something.

"Of course," he said calmly, then shot a panicked look at Mr Darcy, who glanced at Elizabeth before proceeding to ignore his friend's cry for help. Elizabeth's lips curled up for only a second, and Mr Bingley swallowed hard, before offering her his arm.

"Thank you, sir," she said, smiling like a Cheshire cat. Lydia snickered.

"What have you to ask of me, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr Bingley asked when they were halfway there, the silence finally getting to him. Elizabeth paused in their walk, stepping away to face him.

"It's quite simple, sir," she said, still smiling pleasantly. "I wish to know your intentions towards my sister."

Mr Bingley looked surprised. Normally it should be something that her father would ask, and even then, rarely to a man of Bingley's stature. If such a man wished to call on a lady a few times and decide that he did not like her after all, there was nothing anyone from a place such as Meryton, let alone someone with no proper place in society, like Elizabeth, could do.

But Elizabeth was not deterred.

Aside from caring for Jane, this was her only other purpose in coming to Netherfield. She would have this conversation, no matter how inappropriate it was for her to have it with him.

Similarly, Mr Bingley showed no other sign of incredulity or shock, his visage automatically became solemn as she brought up the topic. Maybe he had already labelled her as the overprotective sister. She had threatened him the first day they met.

"I wish to be certain of the truth of our affections for each other," Mr Bingley said, anxiety and worry peaking through his visage. He looked at her, and she immediately thought of a hungry dog begging for a scrap of food from her.

She never could resist something so heart wrenching. And he hadn't directly jumped to the word 'marriage' either, no matter how much he seemed like he wanted to. She hummed to herself, placing a hand on the window as she looked down the hall.

The only one Mr Bingley talked to about these matters was most likely Mr Darcy. Miss Bingley was too busy with her own drama, and Mrs Hurst looked down on them but couldn't care less. The only one left was Mr Darcy.

"Very well then," she said, turning to face Mr Bingley. "I suppose you deserve the right to know this then." Mr Bingley looked like he was gathering up his courage for a tongue lashing instead, even though he was well aware that it would not be happening.

"I have prevented many suitors from laying claim to her hand in the past few years," she started, and Mr Bingley looked at her with surprise. "Jane is aware, and so is our father. But our mother is not," Elizabeth turned away, looking out of Netherfield to the greens outside, and the rays of the sun rested gently on her face.

"She could have had a favorable marriage long before now, had she but wished for it. She couldn't have brought herself to refuse a suitor, so-" Elizabeth looked at Mr Bingley, her face shadowed away from the light, "-I did it for her."

What went without saying was that her means might not have always been very nice . It was a slightly wrong impression. She hadn't actually done anything too bad, either thrown another lady in the man's path, taking Jane away to locations less likely to be found by certain men, convincing her father to do something or the other. But she hadn't actually done anything to any of the suitors.

Though she wished she had, with Mr Goldstein. That man certainly would have deserved it.

Mr Bingley gulped audibly at her words and Elizabeth almost laughed. Instead she continued.

"Jane is far happier than I have ever seen her. Her affection for you is true, and if yours hold true as well, then I will entrust her with you," she said honestly, smiling. She folded her hands together, a complete picture of a normal, average countryside girl.

Sort of.

"And if what you feel is indeed true, then I will request of you but one thing," she felt a sudden pointed attention on her for her words. She wondered if Mr Bingley thought she would ask for his money. She almost laughed at the thought. "You must respect her."

She could tell her words had startled Mr Bingley.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, thrown off. He might have truly expected her to ask him to do something for her other sisters, she suspected. In the book, Mr Bingley's character had been rather…bland. Cute but not very smartly put. But Mr Bingley was in trade. He was supposed to be good with people.

So maybe the separation had resulted from everyone around him feeding to his fears, until even he could not trust the truth of his or her feelings. He could not trust himself, biased as he was, so he trusted Darcy. But alas, there were at least two points Mr Bingley had not realised when he entrusted his future to Mr Darcy.

George Wickham and Elizabeth Bennet.

An unlucky and recent encounter with a fortune hunter who he met again in Meryton and his attraction to a woman he dared not desire.

And therefore, he had ruined his own future by not finding an unbiased view of his own relationship.

"Respect her," she repeated slowly, so he could not doubt her words.

"Jane would be happy with simply obtaining love," she told the man, her fingers splayed together, thumb slowly caressing from her wrist to thumb as she carefully considered her words and spoke. "She would be happy, but she would be happiest, if she had your respect as well. She isn't a woman, simply so a man can fall in love with her," she said softly, feeling a little like she was talking about herself instead, then she shook it off and looked up severely at Mr Bingley, "She has done much, accomplished much, aside from learning how to dance and sing and be pretty, and be kind and gentle. Perhaps you know, perhaps you don't."

She didn't tell him about how Jane worked tirelessly through harsh winters, how she took care of the people under their family's care and how she took the responsibility of being the first born, even if she wasn't a man, such that there was no doubting her kindness, her sense of responsibility and worth from even the harshest critic in Meryton. And their parents had been just careless enough with them to allow them to do as they wished. And most certainly if their daughters were the ones learning the run of the estate. They held hope that one of them might marry their cousin and gain it.

She didn't want to speak about how Jane's hands weren't perfectly soft because she was Jane .

The people who loved her would know of the kind of person she was without anyone having to speak of it aloud. Though these were some things she needed to speak aloud, for her mind's sake if not Jane's.

She looked at Mr Bingley, and the air grew heavy as she kept looking at her sister's prospective husband without a word. Then, Mr Bingley's expression dropped, his eyes fell to the ground, looking terribly upset. With himself, she thought.

"I believe I have made some terrible assumptions, Miss Bennet. Forgive me for thoughts and follies made out of ignorance and prejudice," he apologised to her, rather abruptly. He really did look rather shamed.

"You have made no mistakes, sir. You have offered my sister much kindness, and even if I do not get to call you my brother, I shall know you as a kind and honorable man," she assured him without hesitation, and he twitched at her use of the word 'brother'. She almost rolled her eyes before deciding to not incite the man.

"I shall know you as an honorable man regardless of what happens, sir," she repeated, softer and still reassuring. "My sister is not the kind to hold grudges either, no matter how much it may pain her. So you may follow your wishes with the assurance that my sister does, indeed, like you."

But of course, if she thought that he was the kind of person who would play with her sister's feelings, she would never have said any of these words to him. If she thought his feelings wouldn't last, she wouldn't have offered him anything but a broken carriage maybe.

She only did what she did with the assurance of his feelings. And well, she wasn't even sure how much she could depend on the book for future events anymore, but still. This was her life right? She had to live it her way.

Maybe things would change from the book, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe Jane and Mr Bingley would get together, maybe they wouldn't.

Either way, Mr Bingley was a nice man and she wished him all the happiness with her sister, who was also far too kind and far too nice as well.

"I would wonder, how have I earned your regard so?" He said, looking at her with a growing smile, the words surprisingly self-deprecating in contrast to his expression.

"You have made my sister happy, sir," she replied seriously.

Mr Bingley returned her look with one of scrutiny, before he smiled widely- bright and warm. She wondered what he discovered about her in this conversation but she didn't think of it for much longer, deeming it over.

"I must go back and tend to my sister," she told him. "Goodbye, Mr Bingley."

She curtseyed to him in goodbye before leaving with a smile. She hoped her sister would get what she wanted sooner rather than later.

Mr Bingley bowed and watched as she turned around and walked away with composure and a straight back.

He thought of the similarity of the sight, with one of his dear friend, both so proud and kind, all at the same time, and wondered quietly to himself.

Chapter Text

The conversation with Mr Bingley somehow, had made the man even more excitable, if that was even possible. His ability to emote even the subtlest happiness loudly was commendable, and the conversation had marked such an obvious change that Elizabeth had no choice but to recognise the worry caused by the man's doubts.

Mr Bingley had always been, by far, the most friendly of the family. But he had been even more so, talking to Elizabeth in a manner that would be almost offensive in its casual nature, if it had not given Elizabeth the chance to actually breathe.

She had not realized her own stress and stiffness since the time she had entered Netherfield Park. While Lydia was supposed to be company for Jane and her, she had spent most- if not all- her time by Miss Bingley's side. On that note, Elizabeth had been the one to solely care for Jane, though she had received help from the caretakers under Miss Bingley.

Mr Bingley's newfound comfort with her was a source of surprise for even Miss Bingley and Mr Darcy, though Lydia seemed not to recognise the significance and Mr and Mrs Hurst cared not at all. But this simple comfort had cause Elizabeth's own stiffness to ease and soon she was conversing with the man smoothly, talking about his experiences, his other siblings, and comparing experiences.

In one such conversation, the topic of Mr Darcy's sister came up, and she was surprised to realize how little the man had contributed to the conversation. She had thought with the amount of attachment Mr Darcy was supposed to have with his sister, he would be most pleased to talk about her.

Then, of course, she realized that Miss Bingley had contributed enough affections about Miss Georgiana that he might not want to share more facts. Or even due to Wickham's dealings during the summer.

But she was in a prodding sort of mood, brought about by the sudden ease she felt in Mr Bingley's company.

"Mr Darcy, I have already heard much about Miss Darcy from Miss Bingley's words, pray tell us something about your sister yourself," she said, her smile tilting into a gentle teasing smile. Mr Darcy's face and shoulders stiffened at the sudden shift in conversation partner.

"Georgiana is as Miss Bingley speaks of her," he said, looking rather serious.

"Bright, shy, beautiful, loves the pianoforte, and is an absolute angel in your eyes?" She shot back.

"In everyone's eyes, I believe," he corrected.

"I stand corrected. She must indeed be an angel if there is such unanimous agreement," she gave in, smile widening. "But is that all? I should believe that a child her age would have enjoyed creating some sort of mischief. Or would that have been your responsibility, sir?" She spoke, giving him a way out and teased him at the same time.

Well, all she knew about Georgiana was, indeed, that she loved her brother and all the features Miss Bingley had emphasized.

"I'm afraid the age difference between us is such that even if she were to cause any mischief, she would dare not tell me," he admitted.

"I fear she loves her brother too much to admit her faults then," she laughed. "There was a time in Lydia's youth when she herself did such a thing. She was most afraid that Jane or I would scold her, even though Jane would never raise her voice and I always cared more for my father's books than her mischief."

Lydia looked up at the sound of her name, frowned then tried to go back into the almost one sided conversation she was having with Mrs Hurst.

"My sister and I have a much larger age gap than that of you and Miss Lydia," he replied, his eyes light with amusement. He shifted just slightly and it suddenly felt more like he had leaned in towards her. His attention pricked at her skin.

"I believe so," she admitted. "I have not heard of her age yet, but I assumed her to be less than 16 since Miss Bingley mentioned her not being out to society yet."

There was a flash of blankness to his face, the pleasant expression that she hadn't even realized she was seeing, was gone in an instant.

"That is correct," he admitted, almost to himself, a hint of bitterness to it. Elizabeth backtracked hastily.

"I suspect that Mr Darcy is the kind of brother who would protect his sister at all costs, even amidst the height of society. I suspect she fears her brother scaring away all her potential suitors," she went back to teasing.

"Much like you, I believe, Miss Elizabeth," Mr Bingley spoke here, a small smile on his lips that although looked normal, Elizabeth felt had a tinge of mischief in it. She shot him a mock-offended look.

"I, sir, would never turn away any suitors for my sister's hands. My mother can verify it for herself, good sir. I am offended at such a remark," her eyes danced with similar mischief. Mr Bingley's eyes darted to Mr Darcy, and his smile widened to a grin.

"I apologize for the offense, Miss Bennet. Perhaps, I can apologize by asking my friend to dance with you at the next ball," he said. She blinked a few times, before her eyes went to Mr Darcy.

"I- there is no need for that, Mr Bingley," she said, shock making her words come out with an initial stutter.

"I believe I was told that Netherfield Park has an excellent ballroom," he said, looking at Miss Bingley in confirmation. Miss Bingley being the hostess, agreed that there was a usable ballroom in Netherfield with a stiff smile. "I would be very agreeable to hosting a ball after Miss Bennet recovers from her illness."

"Mr Bingley-" she started again, and was immediately interrupted by Lydia.

"Oh, sir, would you?" She exclaimed over Elizabeth. "It would be so wonderful to have a ball here in Netherfield! I heard there were many-" she cut herself off abruptly after an accidental glance at Miss Bingley. "I mean, I believe everyone in Meryton would be very excited for another ball," she said much more calmly.

Mr Darcy cleared his throat, moving towards Elizabeth as she watched in exasperation as Mr Bingley assured her sister that if she so liked, she could name the day of the ball. Miss Bingley instantly gave Lydia such a look that Elizabeth knew that whatever the date was, would most likely be Miss Bingley's choice rather than Lydia's.

"I would be honored if you would accept my request of dancing the first set with you, Miss Elizabeth," Mr Darcy said, and Elizabeth pulled her eyes away from the disaster occurring in front of her eyes (where Mr Bingley smiled in delight as Miss Bingley attempted to scold both her brother and Lydia at the same time) to Mr Darcy, who looked at her quietly. She stared, surprised at his request.

There was no need to, after all. No matter what Mr Bingley had said, she knew that it was unlikely to happen. Mr Darcy had asked that Elizabeth because he was enamoured with her. This Darcy certainly wasn't, as far as she could see.

She hesitated before offering the man a smile.

"The honor is mine, sir," she accepted.

(Mr Bingley watched her accept with delight in his eyes. It was going to go well, he just knew it.)

Jane was finally able to eat something more substantial than porridge, and in celebration of that Mr Bingley had finally spent enough time with her that Elizabeth had demanded Lydia take over for her so she could go to the garden and breathe.

The two were adorable but there was only so much third wheeling she could take before she descended into murderous rage. It was so much worse without a human shaped distraction too. They were so loud in their silent staring and gentle words that even Elizabeth had been driven to distraction from her current book of choice.

And it was with exasperation (and love) that she noted that Mr Bingley seemed even more gone for her sister than he had been when they first arrived. The two were probably the kind of couple who would hear music on the street and dance in that adorable, eternally happy, way that she had seen some old couples do. The kind of love that was almost palpable to everyone around them.

It could give a blind, bitter man cavities.

The surroundings of Netherfield was an easy walk for Elizabeth. She chose a direction and started walking, enjoying the breeze on the skin, and the light that escaped to reach her skin from between the leaves. The light danced over her eyes and lit up the greens around her.

It was her third day of staying in Netherfield, and perchance, none of her days in the house had been too peaceful. She hadn't had much of chance to escape due to Lydia making herself scarce, but now with Lydia staying by Jane's side, Elizabeth was finally able to properly walk around the property of Netherfield. Her daily walks in the morning had been light, since she couldn't make herself stay too far from Jane when she was as sick as she had been.

But finally, she had the freedom and willingness to get back into her routine. It was the perfect way to relax after such a hectic couple of days. She raised her arms out in a stretch, relaxing her shoulders in what felt like days after. It had been a while since she had the time to walk for a few hours, and she intended to make the best of it.

She walked on the opposite side from Longbourne, walking through the bushes and trees, the dirt and remnants of wet ground still left over from the heavy rain only a few days ago. The scenery was similar, but her sense of direction was excellent, so she kept on walking until she felt that an appropriate amount of time had passed, then she turned around and started walking back from the exact path she used.

While she found the area still familiar, she had not used the exact path to venture into that area. Netherfield Park had been closed then, and she had not dared enter the area for fear of her mother's anger if she was found there.

When Netherfield Park finally came into sight, she was glad to find herself relaxed from the long walk. The unfamiliarity of the path had been a treat to herself, telling her that she still had yet to learn every nook and cranny of the area.

"Miss Elizabeth," a deep voice called out to her, surprise evident in it. She turned, surprised at the voice and the call of her name.

"Mr Darcy," she said, before curtseying briefly. She felt a tinge of embarrassment at the state he found her in, but brushed it away immediately. She had just been out for a walk, it was natural that her hair would be in a disarray, and her clothes might be a tad dirty.

She dismissed her thoughts in favor of looking at Mr Darcy. He held a horse by its reins, and had his riding clothes on.

"Did you just come back as well?" She asked, turning towards Netherfield, intending to accompany him back.

"Yes, I had a brief look around the property to make sure that the management was going well," he replied promptly, then he paused, looking like he had swallowed a lemon.

"Is something the matter? If you wish to go ahead and talk to Mr Bingley about any issues, you may feel free to leave me behind," she assured him.

"No, not at all," Mr Darcy said, shaking his head as if to shake the previous thought away. Elizabeth smiled. He did look a little like a dog right then. A big dog, maybe. One that was large and furry. But then again, he could also be a cat, shaking his fur after being dropped in water. Maybe about a moment away from hissing in agitation.

She hit the smile the thought brought.

"My sister-" he started, then paused again, as if surprised. They both kept walking towards Netherfied as she patiently waited for him to continue. "My sister has the tendency to smile just like that when she finds a particularly small or adorable animal to show affection to."

There was a smile in his voice.

Elizabeth stopped. Her expression was probably the picture of horrified, and she blushed in embarrassment at being caught comparing Mr Darcy to a cat.

Oh my god. He knew she was comparing him to a cat. Or at least an animal. And was that why-

Oh dear god, that was why he had started coughing when she thought Mr Bingley seemed like a puppy too! He knew!!

She wasn't ever going to live this down. She was going to die of embarrassment and if she ever got a third life, she would just kill herself to save the world from her embarrassing deeds. Surely, it couldn't get worse than this?

Oh god. She needed to apologize now, didn't she?

She glanced up at Mr Darcy who had stopped when she did, and was looking at her with a small smile.

(She had never seen him smile before.)

"That-" she started, "-is not-" she wrinkled her nose. She couldn't possibly lie . She started again.

"I was," she accepted, now where to go? Should she say, 'But I wasn't attempting to make fun of you'?

Or maybe 'It might have given you the impression that I thought people around me were animals, but that's not necessarily true'? No wait, that sounded worse.

Oh drat. She was kind of screwed wasn't she? She pressed her lips together and looked up at the man with an ashamed look.

"Apologies," she ended up saying reluctantly, unable to find proper words for it. Well, she wasn't really apologetic but what if the man was irritated? Well, he seemed to find it more amusing than irritating and Mr Darcy's character wasn't meant that way either…

Shouldn't he have been grumpy instead? Why was he talking to her? And teasing her? How rude.

(A part of her heart sank at the thought that maybe he had thought of her as an acceptable sort of friend? Maybe he thought since she was obviously not aiming for his wealth and he had no particular interest in her, maybe he could do her the courtesy of talking normally? She had won Mr Bingley's friendship, seemingly.

She snapped the thought like a twig. She knew this would happen. She knew this could happen. She wasn't Elizabeth after all. No matter how much she attempted. Of course Mr Darcy wouldn't fall head over heels and realize he needed to run before he got in any deeper. Instead he stayed, and so would Bingley and she would be happy for her sister.)

Mr Darcy's eyes lightened until Elizabeth found it almost crystalline. He ducked his head towards her, a twinkle in those beautiful eyes.

"I won't speak of it," he promised.

Then he turned and started walking again.

Elizabeth stood there for a moment, blushing now, for an entirely different reason. Then she started walking too. She couldn't fall behind, after all, could she?

Chapter Text

Darcy's POV

There was something different about Elizabeth Bennet.

At first, when Fitzwilliam had first met her, he thought her to be shy. The kind of woman who tended to shy away from attention, maybe due to the beauty of her older sister, she had turned to reclusiveness. He certainly understood the desire to do so, for he often felt the desire to do the same.

It was on the next accidental meet that he realized she was different. He had perhaps said some not very polite words about the same woman, feeling that she had run away to hide since she was not found dancing among the crowd.

But instead right as he was speaking such words, her hair caught his attention. The brown looked so chocolate in the light that it almost looked edible. His breath caught in his throat before he had even seen her face.

And then, there she was, bold and daring, accusing him right to his face. And when she turned her eyes to Bingley, he felt a flash of envy strike him. He himself was surprised at the feeling.

But it was nothing compared to when he went after her, embarrassed and desiring to speak to her, to explain, perhaps. Or so he hoped.

Instead he heard something else.

Her words were sharp, and the information she shared, even more so. But he couldn't help but be drawn in by the waver in her voice, the forced composure she kept herself under. He recognised it, because he did the same thing.

And after the ball, he shared with Bingley his thoughts, and Bingley was glad. Enthusiastic even, in his pursuit. Elizabeth Bennet's words to keep Bingley away, had drawn him in even tighter, and he wondered for just a moment if that exactly was her trick.

The next fortnight he shared with the Bennet family was…unpleasant. Not to say that there had been much wrong with the Bennet family themselves. But the countryside society was a crude place.

Mrs Bennet shrieked from one end of the house to the other, and called her daughters with a frantic edge to her tone that made him think about the one of his tenents' daughter who had been quiet, anxious and extremely prone to clumsy acts. She had barely managed to escape being run over by a carriage just last year, and her mother had spent far too much time telling him about it when their house had flooded.

Then, Miss Elizabeth had spent the every single evening after that managing his sisters or mother. Sometimes she would not-so-accidentally kick at her sister beside her, her eyes widening, to loudly imply something he had absolutely no idea of, before the sister would engage someone in conversation. Miss Mary Bennet, he believed she was called.

Sometimes when the mother would get flustered about something, Elizabeth would reach out and grasp her hand, calmly making an excuse to the guests before she left to handle some other matter that had clearly popped up with every Bennet family member's absence.

It wasn't all that often, but Fitzwilliam saw the lady do it often enough in the course of two weeks that he started to realize what he might look for, and even beyond that, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a good conversationalist, entering any conversation with ease, but also not talking about inane things or chattering on, on her own without checking to see if the other person was following.

Her sisters were much like that, though, and it made Fitzwilliam wish he was anywhere but there. But Mr Bennet proved to be an interesting conversation partner and they shared about their time in school (he had apparently ended up avoiding much more socializing than he thought he had, and he could only be grateful at the his own forethought for avoiding them all so).

Mr Bennet had a rather sharp taste of humor, wherein he made fun of others and found amusement in doing so. Fitzwilliam found it a touch displeasing, specially when such a humor came into effect with his own wife.

He couldn't imagine making fun of his own family. Georgiana would not only hit him, but perhaps cry too. And then Darcy would have no choice but to cut off his arm in hopes of recompense and where would he be, without an arm?

But he couldn't begrudge the affection he saw in Mr and Mrs Bennet's interactions as well. Everyone had faults, and he freely admitted that, as long as they were not directed at him , he had found it rather not too difficult to forgive them for it.

The Bennet family in general were far more lively than any family he had ever seen. They held such a wide array of colourful personalities that he had no idea how they even lived together. Pemberly would seem too small with the force of their unique personalities, as it was.

And Lucas Lodge had been… charming. Subtly so. The liveliness that a single family's cheer brought to the place was surprising, and maybe it was both the countryside's good and bad point. The Bennet family were clearly happy to entertain, and Fitzwilliam was similarly surprised by the cheer everyone let out at Mary Bennet's songs. Even though he found it barely above average on a technicality, there was something pleasant about the music, a certain cheer in it that echoed with the music.

And even more glad was he to see that Caroline Bingley had made herself rather scarce from his side. Her constant attention had always gotten on his every last nerve. And even though he should be used to it already, he found that he was grateful for one night to not be under her intense scrutiny.

That evening turned quite pleasant and he acquainted himself with Mr Lucas with well enough amiability.

And perhaps the most enchanting thing was yet to come. Miss Jane Bennet had fallen sick upon her arrival to Netherfield for dinner with the ladies, and Miss Elizabeth and her youngest sister, Miss Lydia Bennet, had followed soon after.

When he had spotted the eagerness with which Miss Elizabeth had thrown her sister and Bingley together during all the dinners, he had considered the brief thought he had entertained during the first ball, that perhaps she had mercenary intentions. Her sister, Jane, had been either oblivious about it and had shown a pleasant companionship to Bingley or she was a far better actor than he had ever seen, if she too, held similarly mercenary tendencies.

He had felt discomforted by the thought that all that Miss Jane Bennet shared with Bingley would be a lie, for surely, such a false woman could not exist? But Elizabeth's first request that Jane be moved back immediately, had at least eased a little of his nagging worries.

But more than Elizabeth's presence, he had to admit that he was far more grateful for Miss Lydia's instead. She had been a constant companion with them for the whole day, awkwardly inserting herself into any conversation she could chance in, even the ones between himself and Miss Bingley, which even Charles had left alone, either so he wouldn't get in his sister's way or if he would actually consent to marry her, he did not know.

But he was pathetically grateful that Miss Bingley's attentions were being vied for, with such intensity. He even found it in himself to find amusement in the way Miss Bingley would use his methods to avoid her attention, on Miss Lydia.

For just this one act, Miss Lydia Bennet had instantly earned an in, into his good books. Normally it may not have been so easy, but she had ignored him so very obviously for Miss Bingley that he couldn't even begrudge himself that.

Perhaps there was something about the Bennet family that made them like anyone but Fitzwilliam Darcy, known for his 10,000 a year and owning half of Derbyshire. He found that it put him in far more ease than he had expected.

As Bingley had once said, mayhap Fitzwilliam would find the countryside far more appealing than the city of London. And as it was turning out to be, he just might.

The second day, he found it in himself to congratulate Miss Elizabeth for her dedication for her sister. If there was one thing the past day had shown him, it was that he had been rather harsh on Miss Elizabeth. She cared, and very deeply, at that, about her own family.

She cared not for Bingley or himself, beside what they were to her family, for they certainly hadn't been much to herself. She had cared only for her sister the whole time, barely greeting any other occupant aside from retorting or glaring Bingley down for daring to court her sister.

When she went ahead and threatened, then gave her blessings to Bingley, the man had been ecstatic. Something about the conversation had removed all of Bingley's doubts and he would look outside with stars in his eyes and murmur 'brother' to himself in a voice that was just barely past wistful and into a hopeful territory.

He managed to ask Bingley to wait instead of instantly offering his hand in marriage to a sick Jane, and then thought on what the woman had said to Bingley. While 5,000 a year certainly would be tempting for any family, Elizabeth seemed to be the kind who would roll over anyone who dared to defy the wishes of someone she loved.

Miss Jane certainly was a beautiful creature, and he understood clearly what kind of men could come for her. If money was all they wanted, the lady would have been sold to the highest bidder long before.

He found that he could respect that much. And he found himself believing that even if Bingley's income had been much lower, Miss Elizabeth could have found a way to make it happen. She was a force of nature.

That evening he added more words to describe the lady known as Miss Elizabeth. Not simply a force of nature, not just similar to Georgiana in one or two ways, but as Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth was pretty, with her wide eyes glowing warmly in the fire light, looking at him with shock as he asked her for a dance. She was even brighter the next morning, with her cheeks flushed, her hair escaping from its set ways, and her lips pinkened and parted in surprise.

He wished to see her with that look on her face more often, in many more settings.

And then she would scrunch up her nose cutely and would say something exactly like Georgiana would and Fitzwilliam would forget himself and speak to her so familiarly, it would not have been remiss of him to speak to his sister in such a way.

But by god could he never regard her as his sister.

Elizabeth's POV

The third day was spent third wheeling as Bingley spent an awful amount of time with Jane and Lydia ran away with an expression of despair the moment she caught sight of Elizabeth again.

(Lydia before would have run away even without Elizabeth's presence).

Elizabeth wished she didn't have to spent an awful amount of time looking after her sister's virtue, but she also delighted in all the ways her sister's cheeks would pinken, this time not from fever, and the small glares she would receive when Bingley slipped whatever Elizabeth had done.

Elizabeth, of course, was entirely unrepentant. She was procuring her sister's happiness. Jane need not do anything but live her life. Elizabeth would fix up the messes in the story.

Elizabeth made through a truly ridiculous amount of her book in the short time she chaperoned her sister and her beau. And it was with a reluctant heart that Mr Bingley accompanied her downstairs for their meal.

Elizabeth insides quivered, but she found herself as Mr Darcy's unlikely conversation partner again as she read, and no matter how compelling, she knew she would go back to reading once more when Mr Bingley would appear to haunt Jane's door, so she chose to bother Mr Darcy instead.

"How often do you find yourself writing to Miss Darcy?" She asked, and Mr Darcy got a slightly odd look on his face before answering that he wrote back as often as he could, which of course led to an obvious question.

"Why did you not bring your sister to accompany you? Would she not like the countryside?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"No, she would have," he replied, his eyes distant. Then it focused on her. "She would have liked to accompany me here, but I do not expect my stay here to last for much longer. I shall leave here by Christmas to return to Pemberly with my sister."

"Oh," she breathed out, surprised. "I see."

She contemplated the words. She had known that they were long gone by then. Charlotte would have married around that time and Bingley would have left not long after the Netherfield ball. But he had planned to leave anyway, was it?

This, she supposed, was to be the end of her love story. One that wouldn't even start.

She looked down blankly at the open book in her lap, her thumb brushing her lip as she thought silently.

Was it odd that she was upset about it? It had no beginning. And it would already end.

Jane Austen's main character, everyone. A loveless woman sitting around and fixing her sister's marriage.

"I see," she repeated softly to herself, after an inordinate amount of time. This time she did not return to any conversation, having had enough of it too.

Chapter Text

Only someone who did not know themselves would feel surprised by the direction their heart yearned to.

Empty is the heart that does not beat. And Elizabeth's heart beat well enough in her chest.

She did not hold feelings for Mr Darcy. She did not know much of him. But she did know certain things she wasn't sure she knew once before.

She knew his company was calming. She knew he cared first for Georgiana before he cared for anything else. She knew he would let his propriety hang if only Georgiana asked, or even before then. She knew that she could imagine herself being in his confidence easily.

Elizabeth knew herself, so she knew that she had been holding only empty wistfulness. She knew herself, so she knew that she was never likely to find anything worth having in this era.

She was stuck hundreds of years before her time, and only Elizabeth's memories and the books she held onto kept her sanity. She was well aware that she was perhaps one mistake away from hurling herself down a road that she could not come back from.

All her acts here and now, had not been for Jane, or Lydia or Mary. Sure, they had been what she could latch onto the easiest. But they had never been her primary cause. Her primary motive was to run away from herself.

And it was with a sinking feeling, in the depths of the night, that she realized that she would not be able to. She had not slept. She could not. All she could feel was the slow despair and the slight pain in her heart at the thought that she might lose something she never really had in the first place.

She couldn't run away. There was nowhere to run to. The story would not end. She would not be sent back. She would live here. Until the day she died, she would live here.

She was the daughter of a gentlewoman, but who could look at her in Meryton and say she had not worked a day in her life? She was Elizabeth Bennet.

Elizabeth Bennet, the daughter of a gentleman, who owned Longbourne. Not Elizabeth Bennet, the future Mrs Darcy. She wasn't supposed to find meaning in her life by looking to a fixed future, she was supposed to find it by assuring herself of her past.

Her past was a mixture of two.

She had grown up in a loving, if messy, family. She was loved, she was cared for, and she had ended up stepping into her own and fumbling through life on her own because she wasn't properly understood in her own family.

Elizabeth Bennet or not, it was the same for either life. It was only the methods that were a little different, but Elizabeth Bennet was her, and she was Elizabeth Bennet.

There was no difference at all, only in the way they were raised.

Elizabeth wanted to be like her father, his humor, his interests and tastes. It was his admiration and acceptance she sought. It was only upon her love for Mr Darcy that she realized she was blinded by her preconceived notions. That the world was bigger and brighter than she had thought of it, looking outside with the cynical glasses taken off her father's face.

She was different. The world had always always told her that she was wrong. That she was wrong in being loud, in being verbose. She was wrong in her pride and her emotions. She was wrong for her implacable logic, and she was wrong to have romantic hopes in spite of her logical mindedness.

She wasn't wrong at all.

She had found it for herself, that she wasn't wrong at all. That the world was wrong in many ways, and she need not care for it. She only needed to do what she wanted. The rest would follow.

She had tiptoed around Mr Darcy. She had been stressed staying in Netherfield, where people who she had only known through the pages of a book or the screens of a camera existed. She hadn't been living for herself at all.

All she had been doing was delaying the inevitable.

She wasn't meant for this time at all. She wasn't meant to be here. She wouldn't belong here no matter what she did. She wouldn't magically find a place.

She was the place. She was it.

She couldn't marry, she realized. And then she took a breath of the cool night air, and then she let it out. She couldn't marry, she thought to herself again, but this time with a sense of relief.

She couldn't marry. She wouldn't fit in, and that was fine. There were all kinds of people in the world. The world was a large place.

It may not be the kind of life she had looked for when she was ages in the future, but now, this was all she could do with her ability. She needed to find her feet.

Mr Darcy was a kind of man she doubted she would come across often. And it was fine. They weren't meant to be anyway.

Jane Austen had written it so hadn't she? Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy.

She might not be the ultimate god to decide all that happened in this world, because it was a whole world but Elizabeth felt quite certain of at least this.

Fitzwilliam Darcy would not fall in love with someone who was not Elizabeth Bennet. He hadn't for 28 years of his life, and then he would turn his hopes away and marry anyway, because he had an estate and land and a sister and this was what he had to do.

And Fitzwilliam Darcy didn't turn away from his duty.

And Elizabeth Bennet would go away from a land that had a destiny written on it. She would go away from the complications of stupid desires and find her own zen again, like she had before. She would be happy to laugh at her friend's silliness, her sister's happiness and she would find enjoyment in life that way, like she always always had.

This wasn't about Mr Darcy at all. But about her.

Then Elizabeth heaved a breath, almost like a sob, before she pretended it wasn't such and turned away from the windows to tuck herself under the covers once more.

The sleep called and she would answer.

"Mr Bingley! How nice to see you again," she called out with a smile, the curtsey coming naturally to her as she eyed the footman by the man's side. Bingley nodded in dismissal to the man before turning to her with a smile.

"Miss Elizabeth, it truly is a nice day, is it not? And how does your sister fare on such a lovely day?" He asked, and her lips turned a tad brighter.

"Ah yes, I believe that she may be able to come down for breakfast today. Her strength has returned and she insists on knowing how awfully Lydia and I have been behaving to our hosts," she said. Mr Bingley's eyes crinkled with happiness.

"That sounds like she is very cross with you," he said, lips upturned into an equally bright smile, soppy with love.

"She is indeed," she agreed, "but Jane being upset has never hindered my actions, and I doubt I shall choose now to start doing so. She will simply have to keep kicking me under the table until I am finished speaking my mind."

"Oh dear, I must fear for the state of your feet, Miss Elizabeth. For you speak your mind in such an extensive manner that I cannot imagine it's survival," he teased. Elizabeth laughed.

"That it must be. I cannot speak with only half a mind, nor can I speak only half my sentiments. What if misunderstandings ensue?" She said mock-grimly. Mr Bingley nodded solemnly.

"As Mr Darcy's longest standing, completely unrelated in any manner, friend, I must say that it is a great virtue to have. For he speaks nothing much and creates misunderstandings with every word that he does manage to get out," he subtly implied of their first acquaintance in the Meryton ball where Elizabeth had come across the two talking bad about the ladies.

"I am not surprised," she admitted. "I have spoken to him often enough in the past few days to know that he is a better man than that." Her breath caught in her throat for a moment before she continued, resolved. "However I do so believe that he would not be pleased to hear us speak badly of him in such a manner." Now it was Mr Bingley's turn to laugh.

"Oh he would not care much of anyone's bad opinion as long as they do not speak badly to him. He has honest acquaintances and he does not care for much outside of them. Though I do believe he might consider this to be an appropriate recompense for the time he spoke badly of you," he said.

"Oh, would you like to accompany me on a walk outside?" She asked, when they reached a hall that would lead to the outside. "And sir, I should inform you that I did not truly know that the two of you were speaking badly of me until just now."

Mr Bingley froze, turning to look at her with a stiffness that spoke of his fear of her scoldings, but Elizabeth looked at him with laughter in her eyes. She was not offended at all, and seeing that, he heaved a great sigh of relief.

She laughed again.

"Very well then, I must accompany you in recompense then for my words," he offered her his arm. She shook her head kindly, not accepting.

"Sir, I would rather if you accepted due to pleasure at my company than due to your desire to recompense me for anything. That would be the kindest thing you could offer to me," Elizabeth said the words kindly, but her lips formed a rather stiff smile, remembering Mr Darcy's offer to dance with her only because Mr Bingley had said these exact same words to her.

Mr Bingley, realizing his mistake, apologized sincerely.

"My apologies, Miss Elizabeth," he said wryly, "It seems that much of the time I spend in your company is spent apologizing for my mistakes to you."

Elizabeth waved it away.

"There is no need for them. I realize that we are not as well acquainted with each other and misunderstandings are easy to correct when properly voiced. I have never had much of a problem voicing them so we shall not have any problems in our acquaintance," she said confidently. Mr Bingley's eyebrows raised.

"Mr word, Miss Elizabeth, I never realized how much you must have put into all your relationships. You seem to have a rather good knowledge of the relationships between people," he said.

"My only knowledge rises from my friend, Charlotte's deductions and my own interference with my sister's ever demanding list of suitors. I shall be grateful for when she is happily married since my free time would increase to twice as much," she informed him, a mischievous smile on her lips. Mr Bingley looked briefly conflicted before glancing back at his house, remembering that Jane was safely encoased in her own bed, probably sleeping peacefully due to the early hour.

"I never realized that Ja-" he cleared his throat, "-that Miss Bennet had so many people vying for her hand."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"Come spring, more would descend upon us like hyenas in the wild," she retorted. Her silent words were that he should get her off the market before it happened. "Though it wouldn't be too bad. She would probably spend the season in London with our aunt and uncle if it got to that." Mr Bingley heaved a sigh.

"Miss Elizabeth, you excel at teasing me so that I would dare not bet against her being taken away from me before I even managed to ask for her hand," he said, sounding anxious. Elisabeth turned around to face him with surprise.

"My apologies, I did not mean to cause you any pain. Perhaps my words were not appropriate in such an occasion," she said regretfully. She and her mouth were always getting her into trouble every time.

"No, it is not that," Mr Bingley said, a slightly worried look on his face. "I must return to London before I can-" here he blushed, unable to say the words.

"I realize what you mean to say, sir," she assured him, giving him a kind smile. "What pray, is the problem then?"

"I cannot leave my sister and Mr Darcy alone in such a way," he grimaced. "Mr and Mrs Hurst are not much in the way of companionship, and what my sisters had among themselves seemed to have fizzled out shortly after arriving here."

Lydia , she read the silent cause from his words.

"Then would my younger sister not be the more appropriate person to ask this of? And as a daughter of a gentleman, I cannot traverse into Netherfield Park, as you well know," she denied him.

"Miss Bennet, I do not begrudge your refusal. I cannot ask this of your sister. She is far too young, and my sister would not accept it from her," he started.

"But she would accept an invitation to Longbourne from my behalf," she finished. Mr Bingley smiled, relieved at her apparent acceptance. "I will accept your request only if you accept one of mine," she continued. He raised an eyebrow surprised. "You must return and speak to my sister to ease her heart if you do not wish for her hand."

He looked startled. And almost…hurt.

"Miss Elizabeth," he started, "you must think very poorly of me to request such a thing. I would never-"

She raised a hand, stopping his words with an implacable look on her face.

"I do understand your sentiments," she assured. "However I also believe that such sentiments are not all there is in a marriage. I do not pretend to know the hearts of people, specially men. So I will instead ask for the promise of a gentleman, for I believe in that much more."

He still looked hurt, but he gave in to her request, promising her sincerely that he would definitely come back, no matter what happened. Elizabeth smiled, relieved.

She breathed out deeply. That should be mostly it, right? She had solved her biggest problem already. That should be enough.

Bingley POV

Charles watched as Miss Elizabeth's face became more relaxed and brighter in mere moments, her shoulders easing and she looked at him with a familiarity that he would not have felt odd if the next words out of her mouth was 'brother'.

The word, since he had heard from her lips, it had echoed in his head so much that it haunted him in some nights. How had he gone from struggling to hold his mother's hand in his youth, to being so close to taking a wife?

He had been called 'brother' numerous times by his sisters. All his sisters had called him so, many a times with exasperation, or kindness or with anger. They had called him so with many different tones and emotions.

But the way Miss Elizabeth had called him felt odd, unique in a way. The word sat foreign to her lips, but she had still brought it upon herself to label him so. How much happiness was Jane hiding from even him, for Miss Elizabeth to have taken one look at him and decide that he was such a large threat to the safety of her sister's heart?

Even now, when he was so close to proposing to her sister, she tried her hardest to protect her heart. And maybe another man might have been put off by how desperately Miss Elizabeth attempted to keep him away from her sister when all Jane had done was welcome him in so pleasantly that it had felt like coming home, but he couldn't begrudge her that.

Her desperation to keep her sister's heart safe was one of the few ways Charles could reassure himself that he truly was held close to his dear Jane's heart, that he wasn't fooling himself, just because sinking into her atmosphere felt so comfortable, so much like home that he might have missed some signs of distress or disregard to his attention.

Her awkwardness with the term 'brother' was almost sweet, after his sisters had almost worn the term of all its endearments. It felt like he could explore the affections that would be held with such a term properly. After his-

His marriage .

He would marry such a wonderful woman. So beautiful was she to behold that he was lucky to have remembered to not bump into every living and non living thing in his vicinity. She was beautiful, gentle and wise beyond herself.

Her hands were graceful and yet she touched and did things with such confidence that it felt like the world was already meant to be hers. She was simply taking it for herself now.

She was firm in her grip, the one time he had held her hand. That she had allowed him such a privilege could not be overlooked, and she had looked upon him so kindly during it too that he had felt that surely, he had reached the peak of his happiness. That surely, now his heart could explode and he could die, having reached the happiest he ever could?

But then there was even more happiness to come in his life. Not only was there an angel that was Jane, but also her kind and strong sister, Miss Elizabeth, who pulled at his friend's eyes like she was a magnet attracting them to her. And she was so oblivious, focused only on her sister that he could only find kindness and affection for her in his heart.

Surely, he couldn't be so lucky, could he?

But in regards to Miss Elizabeth, even he could not tell what affections she held for his dear friend. While at moments he would spot a tender regard for him, other times she would pretend like she had not an idea at his existence.

He wished he could ask Jane for her advice. He was sure she would give him some insight into her sister's thoughts like Miss Elizabeth had done for Jane, and he would be delighted to see the petty vindication in Jane's angelic eyes as she did her best to bring the two of them together.

Elizabeth had earned no favors for herself by speaking of Jane's affections for him, and he held himself firmly in Jane's court for whatever revenge scheme she might want to bring about into existence for her dearest sister. If he was aware of anything at all, it was that the ones who held themselves the closest to each other, could bring about revenge of such dramatic and drastic proportions that you would not think them any different from lifelong enemies.

Especially when it came to the female gender, much to his confusion. But such was the order of things and he would only bow under the might of Jane's wishes.

He would have no desire to see how his dearest friend worked himself into Elizabeth's regard, for surely, it would be a fearsome thing to behold. Something had to be said about stubborn people that were far too similar, and these two would match it utterly.

He could only be grateful that he and Jane were matched in their easiness with disregard and utter lack of stubbornness. He could not imagine having to wrangle with Miss Elizabeth for anything. He would be at ease to hold her only as his sister and never find out.

Thankfully Darcy tended to be private about any familial matters and he would not be regaled to Elizabeth's tendencies like he tended to do with Jane. Perhaps it was about time he decreased the content and intensity of the regaling of his regard for Jane to Darcy, for surely it might soon bite him right back in his ass.

He would rather not know of any woman in the ways he had talked of Jane to Darcy, and suddenly he realized why Darcy had tried so hard not to hear of his hopes and worship of Jane. But after he had given into it- after the 7th time Charles veered off topic to start talking about Jane- he had seemingly been quite content to hear of Charles' happiness and had even gone along with some of his pretend conversations in the beginning of their interactions.

In fact, it was quite odd that Darcy's reactions had been quite similar to Jane's when he was actually having a conversation he had practiced with Darcy. It had given him such a strange sense of deja vu that he had promised himself not to do it again until it was a most urgent need.

But shyness aside, Elizabeth was headstrong and bold, though she observed propriety until it came to her sisters. Then she seemed just about content to upturn the entire table, if she had to.

He had accidentally observed one such drastic measure. He had excused himself for a moment in Lucas Lodge while his sister was having what seemed to be a very upsetting conversation with Miss Lydia, and he had seen Elizabeth pouring what seemed like candle wax on a man's hairy arm, while her friend Charlotte distracted him.

He recognised the man when he let out a startled cry, as the man who had been the receptor of Miss Elizabeth's ill humor the entire evening due to his impropriety with her youngest sister, Miss Lydia. He had even tugged at her hair in such a public place and with nary an apology he had continued to dance with the young girl.

Charles would not have cared for it, knowing that a gentleman's household would not let such a behavior go unaccounted for, but he had been surprised to see Miss Elizabeth carrying out such an act. It lent a certain credit to her proceeding threats, but he could not hold it against her either.

She was a vicious, protective young woman and he only wished for her happiness, hopefully with his friend, but he would simply be fine with her happiness, whoever and however she got it from.

Elizabeth Bennet was a fierce woman, and he would be proud and certainly, extremely happy to call sister too.

Chapter Text

It didn't take much too long for Jane to feel better enough to travel, but much to her horror, Elizabeth received a note from her mother stating that she along with her other sisters were planning to arrive to Netherfield the very next day.

Elizabeth already knew how lucky she had been that her mother had heeded her words and not barged in on the first few days due to Elizabeth's words. Her mother had been placated by Elizabeth's daily updates about both Jane's health and her on-going relationship with Bingley. But she was placated no more.

Now, her mother was at ease with the state of their relationship, so she wished to preview Netherfield that would soon also belong to Jane- whenever Bingley and Jane decided to get married, that is- and Elizabeth did not want that to happen at all.

Her mother was genuinely concerned about Jane, but also, she was too loud. She was noisy and said the wrong things at the wrong time. And she mothered like nobody's business. Elizabeth had almost freaked out at the breakfast table at the thought of her mother in Netherfield.

When Bingley, Jane and Darcy had looked at her in concern, she had taken a breath and informed them with a tight smile that their mother was getting quite concerned and was asking that they return as soon as possible.

Mr Bingley looked crushed, not doubting her worlds, and Jane had blinked in surprise at the blatant lie but still looked equally disappointed, knowing that when Elizabeth was driven to this point, she would certainly not be listening to anybody else. And to her surprise, it was Darcy who raised a brow at her obvious lie, seeming quite curious that she would want to return home so soon. She ignored it, of course. What else could she say to him?

She sent back a letter saying that they would instead make haste and return back home tomorrow. To which her mother had sent a frantic note telling her explicitly to stay longer, but Elizabeth had decided that she would insist on it.

That day she had asked their hosts to forgive their overextended presence, and allow them to return back home the very next morning. Lydia had protested fiercely before giving into Elizabeth's implacability, and Jane, while disappointed, hadn't taken much convincing. She knew that Bingley would come for her soon.

Elizabeth instead found herself surprised by how familiar she had become with the people she had only stayed a few days with. She already knew how Lydia and Miss Bingley behaved, she was already quite friendly with Mr Bingley and she had found a companion with Mr Darcy's quietness.

While she and Darcy didn't have the intensity of emotions the characters in the book had, they seemed to share a love for quietness.

She had spent time by his side just reading, and then talking, and finally they had full-blown conversations where Mr Darcy had actually seemed like he was comfortable, to her surprise. He did have a delightful humour if she said so herself, and she enjoyed the few times she had provoked it.

Of course, it meant nothing at all. Their familiarity with each other was just that, unfortunately. But she found herself glad that he had at least made sure to accompany her often enough that she wouldn't feel lonely. Or just spend all her time chaperoning.

By the time she had managed to get her sisters to agree with her, Bingley had looked at her with sad puppy eyes asking that they leave after breakfast and he insisted that they take his carriage back instead of calling for one.

She was grateful he had at least nullified her embarrassment by offering it first before she could ask it of him, because she doubted her mother would be willing to let her borrow it when she wished Jane would stay even longer.

The day passed by with reluctant joy. The night before they practically had a feast laid out in front of them, and Bingley smiled brightly at them all and told them how glad he was to have spent so much time with the three sisters, and then he and Jane proceeded to stare into each other's eyes with tenderness.

She turned away from their love sickness, already done with the amount of cuteness they spread all around them. No doubt her mother would have been shrieking in delight by now.

“I do not believe your mother would have required you to return back quite so immediately, Miss Bennet,” a rather unexpected voice asked her. Mr Darcy's eyes were seeking out hers curiously amidst their dinner and Elizabeth set down her utensils to answer him. She quite wondered what point he wished to make.

“She would have loved for us to spend a month here,” Elizabeth told him frankly, glancing at Jane for a moment before turning back to the man. “But unfortunately, she had instead asked if she could visit, and while I realize Bingley would be quite agreeable, I do not delight in the state our family sometimes reaches when at their most excitable. Both you and Mr Bingley will see enough of that in the following months as it is,” she mumbled the last sentence under her breath, almost hoping he wouldn't hear. But of course, curious as he was, he did.

“He told you about his plans then, I see?” Darcy asked, surprise evident in his eyes. Elizabeth smirked at him.

“Why, I do believe I am quite close with Mr Bingley already. Is he not allowed to tell me, sir?” She teased.

“Perhaps I didn't think so because of the threats that seemed to have passed your lips,” Darcy teased back, his eyes lingering only half a second on said lips and for a single moment, Elizabeth got flustered.

“Threats I believe were spoken truly. They were more promises I made to him. Promises I shall keep for my sister's sake,” she replied back, her words a tad more sharper than they should be. Darcy blinked for a moment, thrown off by her attitude.

“I meant no disrespect,” he said immediately, almost raising his hands to show his lack of enmity. “I do believe you shall keep them well. You protect your sister well.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at his obvious use of singular term.

“'Sister’?” She asked, then her eyes landed on Lydia. “if you're speaking about Lydia, trust me, she had actually become much more well behaved than she used to be. Lydia is someone who will run away from any authority figure. At best, I can be someone she respects. But I am truly astonished by what Miss Bingley has accomplished with Lydia. It might not be something I wanted for her future, but I will certainly try my best to keep her safe,” she promised, more to herself than Darcy, as she kept her eyes on Lydia from the corner of her eye.

“I do believe that to be quite dangerous. Do you not have elders in your family who can take over that duty, your father, for example?” He asked, rather kindly, she thought.

“Oh, no, I couldn't,” she shook her head briefly, smiling up at him. “Father would not understand any of it. He would let her go free when he should restrict her, and restrict her when she should be allowed to make her own mistakes.”

There was a slight pause.

“Do you believe that you can save her from every mistake she can make? She might be on the path to ruin your family,” Darcy said slowly. Elizabeth's eyes darted to his, and the darkness in his light blue eyes swallowed her whole.

“I don't think that's possible,” she replied quietly. “Sometimes, there's nothing you can do. Sometimes, doing the best you can, will help. I want Lydia to be happy, to be free to choose what she wants from her life. Miss Bingley might have wild ideas but she has a strict sense of caution that Lydia sorely lacks. Before, I couldn't say what she would do. She was innocent and yet wild, and now too she is wild but she's certain to not be as naive as before. In a way, I think it would be a relief, if only she kept her eyes wide open no matter where she walked,” she told him.

Darcy kept quiet. His blue eyes stared down at Elizabeth with…something and his attention prickled at her exposed skin. It felt like he was looking deep into the soul of her and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. But she kept her eye contact. She felt fairly sure that he had been thinking of Georgiana too, while talking about sisters and wrong paths.

“Perhaps,” he said lowly, “your words have merit.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, almost offended by his hesitance. Of course her words had merit. But she understood that he had no idea about the normal course of the story. He didn't know about Lydia, who would have chosen to go have sex with Mr Wickham while publicly running away, and he who would have had to run after them so he could solve it, all for Elizabeth.

She looked away, and down at her food. Her heart squeezed inside her chest and she-

She took a breath and began to eat again.

Looked like there was nothing more left to say.

The next day was a decidedly pleasant day, and Jane looked quite healthy. While she still seemed reluctant to part with Mr Bingley, her cheeks sported a healthy pink as she took a stroll with Mr Bingley, then had breakfast and finally he escorted her to the carriage personally.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, was sickened by the amount of sweetness the two seemed to explode with every time they were at the same vicinity. She had honestly never thought someone's happiness could get irritating but she was beginning to regret her thoughts. It felt like she had been fed so much sugar that she was practically stuffed.

That morning was, quite literally, the worst of it. How did they get even sweeter than the day before? It felt like they were glowing, and if she didn't know better, she would have thought they had spent the night together.

(They hadn't but it certainly seemed like it.)

But she had another man on her arm. A man that she was trying not to focus on. But he stared at her quite often even if she was rather blatant about ignoring him at times.

Anyone else would have been frustrated by her coldness, but well. She actually had no idea why he wasn't. He seemed happy enough to just not have any conversations.

And as the time crawled nearer, it was she, not him, who became impatient at not having one. He seemed like he would be happy enough to not even have a proper goodbye.

And she was certainly not doing that eye-searing heart-pounding silent goodbyes that were the cliche in basically all romance novels. She might be the main character in a romance novel but she was not having it, all right? Jane could have it all she liked.

And just as she thought, Mr Darcy was absolutely fine not talking at all. As he escorted her to the carriage, right after Lydia and Miss Bingley, she unfroze from her frigidness. She sighed to herself. She didn't even know what she was doing here.

Jane and Lydia were safely in the carriage, when she went to Bingley and offered him a cutsy.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mr Bingley,” she told him politely. She did have her manners, all right? She wasn't always running around threatening or harming people.

“It was no trouble at all,” he replied, a warm grin on his face. She nodded, then turned to Miss Bingley.

“Miss Bingley,” she said. The woman gently curtseyed back.

“Miss Bennet,” she greeted, staring back at her evenly. Then she finally turned to Darcy, who was standing by the carriage, waiting for her to be done so he could escort her up.

She tried not to blush.

Wasn't this also a 'scene’?

“Mr Darcy,” she said, hoping it didn't come out nearly as breathless as she felt it should. “Thank you for your company these past few days.”

“It was a pleasure, Miss Bennet,” he said politely, and then-

Even under the morning sun, his hands were warm. He was firm, and steady, and his hands were-

They were warm.

Her eyes darted to his and he looked unaffected. There was warmth of course, in his eyes, but that was it. She smiled at him.

“Thank you,” she said and then she sat down.

She felt disappointed. But Lydia was delighted and Jane was blissed out. And so the three sisters settled for Longbourne.

Behind them, Louisa glanced out of the window and rolled her eyes at the three still standing and staring at the departing carriage like love struck fools. Who did those idiots think they were fooling?

She was already resigned to being far too exposed to the Bennet family than she would ever have wanted. It really was a good thing her husband had no one to be responsible to, because she would have rejected him in a heartbeat otherwise.

Chapter Text

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

Elizabeth had not long extracted herself from the grips of Netherfield Park than she was beset by the news that their cousin, Mr Collins was coming to visit them. She was already aware that he was there to look for a bride, but she allowed her mother to putter about, talking about how they should be good to Mr Collins so that one of them could take over to being hostess to Longbourn.

Personally she had thought Mr Collins hadn't been a good match for her sensible and sharp friend. He required a softer, if still firm, touch, and Charlotte was not the woman for him at all. She certainly hadn't fallen in love with the man, though they had seemed to live quite happily.

Still, she would allow the chips to fall as they were, as long as she wasn't involved. Her rejecting him was predestined and it was one destiny that she would be most glad to uphold.

But Charlotte's fate, she could not be sure of.

And sure enough, Mr Collins arrived. He was a shorter man than her stature, with a nervous sort of look on his face as he peered into the house. He seemed curious about the house he would take over and during dinner, spent most of the time defaulting to talking about Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who she did not have to meet before she knew that the lady was self centred to the point where she would probably punch her in the face.

Hopefully not. She doubted she would even visit as Elizabeth-from-the-book had done not many months into the future. She had determined that she would have the least amount of contact possible with Mr Darcy after he left for Netherfield, and to that end, there was no need for her to go to such a place knowing he would also be there, visiting his aunt. She had no idea about the timing of his visit, but she could rest assured knowing that it would happen around Easter.

During dinner with Mr Collins, Elizabeth had accidentally caught her father's amused look as he mocked Mr Collins for his delicate way of framing compliments, and she almost frowned, remembering that Elizabeth-from-the-book had mocked the man too.

Why had she been so irritated at the man? He talked about Lady Catherine because he had nothing else to talk about. He was a pastor and not much used to the art of amusing conversation like them. It might have been due to his presence meaning that her father's death would cause all of them to be left out into the wild. That he would receive Longbourn and all that came with it, when he held not one bit affection for it. Or maybe Elizabeth had genuinely looked down on him.

She wouldn't say the man was in any way attractive a prospect for herself, but he was still their cousin. She could at least show some courtesy before throwing his proposal in his face.

Poor man. Receiving Elizabeth's disregard felt almost like a rite of passage in the story of Pride and Prejudice. Mr Collins surely was annoying, and none of the sisters held absolutely anything in common with the man…except-

Elizabeth glanced at Mary from the corner of her eye as Mr Collins paid the most attention to Jane, already intending to marry the oldest. She didn't even give much notice to a comment the man made about her beauty, something about her being 'almost as beautiful as Jane' which he did not seem to realize was an insulting thing to say to a woman.

But she was more stuck on the fact that Mary had a slight blush in her face while she watched the man bluster his way through the family dinner. He would be entertaining if he were not so irritating and he did have times where he spoke of his sermons, which Mary seemed quite keen on listening to.

Hmm.

What was one more interference in another one of her sister's love life, surely? While she did not understand anything quite so attractive about a pastor like that, Mary seemed to see something.

That was enough for her. He certainly hadn't treated Charlotte badly, and Mary was certain to enjoy talking about sermons with Mr Collins and the pianoforte that was with Lady Catherine de Bourgh. If she possibly could, perhaps she would actually fall in love and find happiness with the pastor.

If she truly hated him after getting to know him, Elizabeth wouldn't mind one more dark mark on her column and reject him very aggressively for her sister.

So when Mr Collins started talking about brides and looked at Jane with a very obvious and pointed look, instead of distracting or making their very fallible mother say something, Elizabeth took it upon herself to do so.

"If you're looking for a bride among us sister," she pointed out rather bluntly, "then perhaps you might consider our sister Mary, who sits on your other side."

She offered up Mary with a spread open palm. Mary's eyes widened at being thrown to the wolf like that. Even Jane looked surprised by her words, taken aback that she would throw another one of her sisters to the man. Elizabeth shot Jane a silent 'trust me' look.

"She's very good with a pianoforte and I heard that Lady Catherine de Bourgh enjoys music. Mary also takes it upon herself to regale the rest of us with sermons occasionally, as none of us sisters have such interests. I believe she and you, sir, might find some similarity," she said, offering her cousin a smile.

Mr Collins looked at Mary with surprise. Then he seemed to look her over, curiously.

"She looks quite plain," he said loudly, and Elizabeth twitched. Mary glared at her, her 'dont you dare say another word' was conveyed loud and clearly. "But I believe that Lady Catherine would indeed be pleased at her skills with a pianoforte for she keeps one in the living room and never has much chance to have someone play it with the lack of talents around her. Yes, I do believe Lady Catherine would be most pleased."

Mary smiled brightly at his words, and Mr Collins flushed a slight pink.

"Most pleased," he repeated to himself again, this time obviously not speaking about Lady Catherine de Bourgh's opinion.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Mary said ducking her head almost shyly. Mr Collins followed suit, even though introductions had already been done. Aside from Lydia and Kitty's giggling, the rest of the table was astonished to find Mr Collins pleased at the focused attention Mary gave to the man, and also that Mary seemed eased by his words, finding something in them that seemed to mean something else entirely than whatever her family was hearing.

Elizabeth could almost see her father gape in surprise at the sudden turn of events. After dinner, Mr Collins stood up, looking about ready to announce something. Then he looked at Jane, before glancing at Mary, flushing pink, and then scampering away to go back to his own room and sleep.

Mary looked like a cat that got her canary when all the sisters were making their way back to their rooms among hushed whispers.

Perhaps, Mary would make him far more bearable than he had been in the story. She seemed rather smitten with the man for god knew what reason.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth would restrain from following her father's example and insulting the man who would hold Longbourn after his death, making her effectively homeless if he hated her. God knew, the ways of this era was disgustingly patriarchal, and Elizabeth would try her best not to make it more painful than it had to be.

The next day, Mr Collins asked permission to read them sermons, to which Mary had happily obliged, and their whole family had been forced to sit down and hear him read.

Thankfully, Lydia and Kitty were as impatient as always, and their mother, while eager to see them married, was not at all eager to see the entirety of their courtship. With their father's blessings, all five sisters decided to walk to Meryton along with Mr Collin's presence.

With first dibs on the man meant to inherit Longbourn, the other matchmaking mothers had kept their grubby paws to themselves until Mr Collins himself ventured further than their household. And this time, it seemed that the Bennet sisters would actually hold onto the pastor.

Mary was shyly getting acquainted with the man, tucking her hair behind her ear, looking at him through her eyelashes and blushing prettily. It was all rough attempts of what Kitty did seemingly naturally, but she managed it well enough through sheer sincerity. Unlike Kitty's attempts, which had been blatantly fake, Mary seemed to genuinely like the man, and Elizabeth and Jane were once again tucked arm in arm while following the pair sedately.

"It seems as if my fate is to be a chaperone for all my sisters," she joked to Jane. Jane, who had seemed to have something weighing on her mind, hesitated.

"You have been quite busy doing far more than that, Lizzy," Jane spoke. She wasn't hesitant with her words, but seemed to be contemplating if she should have brought up the topic at all.

"You mean to speak of my talk with Mr Bingley," she stated. Jane stopped, her hands holding both of hers, a worried expression on her face.

"Lizzy, you have been so different. I fear what you have been hiding from me. I did not know how to bring it up, first in Netherfield then we were busy with mama and with Mr Collins here…" she trailed off, looking at Elizabeth with concerned eyes. "I'm worried and you must tell me. What is wrong?"

Elizabeth intertwined their fingers together. A desire for comfort and affection in it that Jane recognised. Elizabeth tugged them to start walking again, even if walking far slower to afford themselves some measure of privacy.

"Is it bad of me to admit that I have given up hope in love?" Elizabeth replied to Jane hesitantly. "We are daughters of noblewomen, but I find it far too restrictive," because Mr Darcy wouldn't choose her she completed rather bitterly because startling at her thoughts. She shook them off.

She was quite aware that Mr Darcy probably found her pleasant company, but ugh. Why was she getting so stuck in the epic romance the two of them had had? It had been full of misunderstandings and she couldn't say this enough, she was not Elizabeth. Or maybe it was that with hindsight, she knew what she needed to do, and that meant giving her family the best. Not letting story continue just so she could be with Darcy when it wasn't even a guarantee and could lead to a bigger mess. She didn't know if she liked him, but she would never let the story continue, no matter what. Not even for him, and that led to-

What will be the end for Elizabeth Bennet?

She was not scared to admit that the ending of the story gave her jitters. She was worried, she was scared. She was nervous at how it would be. The storyline had given her something to hold on to, something that helped her adjust and let her focus on this world. But after it ended, what would she do?

She had a vague idea about going to London, maybe going to her uncle and aunt and live out a single life. Or maybe she would find a man who was…okay. But the okay of this time, and the okay in hers was probably far more different than anyone would expect. So it was quite unlikely.

But she had ideas and plans about her uncle and aunt in London. They had hosted Jane for the season so she could pursue Bingley in the story. Maybe they would be happy enough to let her look at something for her to do, if she didn’t want to get married? Surely her family would allow this for her.

"We can only marry, and we can only marry well if we want anything out of life. If I want to reach for the stars, I cannot even try , Jane," she said, her voice coming out strangled. It was only part of her feelings, landing in the 18th century from the 21st.

This era was suffocating for a woman born in the 21st century, but at the same time, Elizabeth had lived here too, and it…soothed the ruffled part of her. While there were women in power, women who held positions, whose voice was heard , obviously, Elizabeth wasn't going to be one of them.

Or well, she could if she married a gentleman in trade and work her ass off there, because that at least, seemed achievable. But simply put…

She did not want to marry for that.

She couldn't promise her life to a man she did not love. She could not offer her body to someone for convinience . Maybe she was wrong, and maybe she wasn't. But it was, in the end, her choice.

And her father certainly wouldn't force her. Nor would her mother's excuses work, with Jane married so well off. 

"Oh, Lizzy," Jane squeezed her hand gently. "You must think of me as such a poor sister. I had not a single idea of your current thoughts. Before the Meryton Ball we used to talk about this and you were convinced that only the deepest love could lead you to marry, but I fear I had been far too preoccupied to realize that you had changed your mind so much so!"

Jane looked more distressed the more she spoke and her expression fell when Elizabeth did not object to her self crucifixion. She could hardly tell Jane that the memories of a 21st century woman had been dropped inside her head not long before the ball and that had caused the change.

But then again, that wasn't entirely true either, was it?

"I don't not believe in true love, and it certainly can convince me into marriage," she started hesitantly, not entirely sure where she was going with that herself. "But I simply don't think I can find someone who is my ideal and who would want me too."

Jane's brows furrowed.

"I have never known you to doubt yourself, Lizzy. And you have seen for yourself that Mr Bingley-" she blushed prettily, "-has promised himself to me. Even with such a low dowry and living by the countryside, he chose to accept me."

"Oh, Jane. Of course he chose you! You're a wonderful sister and person and you are much more wonderful in his eyes, for all your faults and virtues. Faults that you have astoundingly little of, by the way," she added. Jane shook her head, before glaring at her.

"You are deliberately misunderstanding me. You must keep believing that you will find a similar love for yourself!" She insisted. "You still have many years left, and you may still find someone who will be your truest match."

Elizabeth looked away.

"I doubt it will be so," she told her truthfully. Jane narrowed her eyes before, in true sister fashion, found her out.

"Then what has changed since then?" She asked, suspiciously. "Why do you-"

She paused halfway, an odd expression flickering over her face. Elizabeth raised her eyebrow.

"What?" She asked, her eyes darting away to look at the narrow stream they were walking by. Jane continued to look perplexed. She blinked a couple times before looking closely at Elizabeth.

"Lizzy, by chance, are you in love?" Jane asked.

Elizabeth stiffened, standing shock still for a long moment, before letting out a startled laugh.

"What are you on about?" She asked, her voice sounded just a tiny bit hoarse. She subtly cleared it, wishing for something or someone to interrupt them already. They were nearly at Meryton so hopefully they would stop talking about now .

"Mr Bingley had asked if I knew of your regard for any gentlemen," Jane said, her eyes boring a hole into Elizabeth's face while the younger sister pretended to hold a straight face.

Why was she sweating? Why did answering her questions seem so difficult, when Elizabeth wasn't even lying? Her throat felt oddly dry, and it certainly wasn't the walk. She had gone longer without water.

"He asked me about a certain gentleman in his own circle, to be specific," Jane continued, but her voice dropped a tad softer. The confusion in her voice previously, was melting away and-

No, Jane, wait, that's the wrong conclusion you're drawing-

But she couldn't voice the words.

That was too much. It was all too much.

"Stop," she got out, and was surprised to find how composed the word sounded when it came out. She was conflicted, confused and extremely reluctant to even think about it. It was wrong. It was wrong but not completely and she hated that she couldn't venomously deny it.

"You're wrong, Jane, and I don't appreciate your words. Please stop. And we are quite close to Meryton as well. It is not a topic for company."

Jane frowned at her.

“Lizzy, you must know, surely, you must-”

“Jane, enough!” She said firmly, though not loudly. She had no desire to attract attention to themselves. “Let us talk about this another time. For now, we need to look for Lydia and Kitty. I don't want them walking around town so freely,” she told Jane and her eyes fell on the numerous officers she had already seen.

This should be the Wickham meeting day. Well, since she already knew the story of the man, it shouldn't be too hard besmirching whatever was left of his honor. And Meryton, like every other place, loved it's gossip.

They entered an accessory shop and there he was. Mr Wickham was already charming the pants off Lydia and Kitty. Elizabeth, already irritated, rolled her eyes as he played the 'bring a coin from behind the ear’ thing and then gave it to Kitty, while Lydia seemed much more into trying out her new 'tricks’ out on him.

The man already familiar with them, attempted to fall for them.

“Lydia, Kitty, don't bother the officer,” she said, her tone a tad sharper than normal. Kitty, in the process of paying looked at Elizabeth with a pout and slight nerves.

“But Lizzy!” Lydia said, her tone edging into a whine. And she understood that Wickham was good looking, seemed like a nice enough man to fool but he wasn't.

“No,” she said firmly.

“It's no trouble at all. My name is George Wickham,” he said, bringing out her charming smile for the two of them. His eyes roved over both the sisters before falling on Elizabeth. She always raised a suspicious eyebrow at that. Choosing to go for her instead of Jane? That really was quite odd.

She smiled gently at him.

“Elizabeth Bennet, and this is my sister, Jane Bennet. I believe my younger sisters have introduced themselves?” She asked pointedly at Lydia. The girl cleared her throat delicately.

“Yes indeed they have,” Wickham laughed.

“It is my sisters causing problems, please forgive us for our late arrival and mishandling,” she said smoothly, not wanting to go down a line of conversation that would basically be 'oh, thank you for paying’ and then he would return with 'may I accompany you’ which would lead to them walking back together.

“I understand how sisters can be, but truly, these two sisters were no trouble to me. In fact, they were regaling me with stories about their family and home,” he said. Oh dear, looks like he really was planning to target them.

Lydia twitched a little, and Elizabeth wondered if she realized that Wickham had just played the two of them. He must have led the conversation to reach such a place.

“I see,” she nodded accepting the words and not saying anything to them. “I believe you have paid for some of my sister's items. I will have the amount sent to you at the Militia, would that be all right?”

Wickham waved his hands in front of him, his face so friendly and warm, it almost seemed like they were already friends instead of strangers.

“It was my pleasure. After all I have been through, I believe even a little bit of happiness in life is well worth any amount of money bestowed,” he told her.

“That is a great thing to believe, sir. However, it will not move me. I must insist,” she said firmly.

“Very well, it seems that Miss Bennet is indeed quite stubborn,” he said giving her a sheepish laugh.

“Oh you have no idea,” Jane muttered under her breath beside her. Elizabeth elbowed her none too gently. Jane taking the clue, moved away to check the amount they needed to send to Wickham.

“Yes, I am,” she agreed with him. “Now I believe we must depart from both the shop and your company,” she gave him a curtsy and eyed her sisters as they exited the shop giggling.

“Oh, I could escort you if you do not have one,” he offered, still trying to hold onto them. Elizabeth gave him a smile.

“Perhaps we will meet again at the ball instead,” she curtseyed to him before attempting to leave. Wickham joined her.

“May I ask what ball you were speaking about?” He asked, and she cursed her taunt at him at the last moment. He, of course, wasn't going to appear, but he had promised Elizabeth in the story that he would.

“Oh it is nothing,” she said, trying to school her expression. She had almost gotten rid of him and now they were walking again and he was still attached to her like a limpet. God, it was so hard to politely get rid of men!

“I did not realize a ball was expected to be held soon,” he continued like he didn't hear her. She sighed.

“I speak of the Netherfield Ball that Mr Bingley had promised our family. Their ballroom is said to be grand and it seems that most of Meryton is invited, including of course, the militia stationed here,” she explained to the man. She was already at the end of her patience with him. She couldn't believe she had allowed someone so disgusting to talk to her or her family.

“That sounds quite fun,” he said, a friendly and mischievous smile on his face. “Would you care to leave a dance spot for me, Miss Elizabeth?” He asked familiarly. She almost shuddered in disgust.

“As long as my dance card isn't already filled,” she retorted without promising anything. Wickham smiled at her, his eyes shining with curiosity and interest that she did not care to see. And that was how time flew by, she attempted in many ways and places to leave Wickham behind while Wickham seemed even more intent on attaching himself to Elizabeth.

She was sure he already knew how much she did not want him there , but in the middle of Meryton, she couldn't exactly slap in across the face. There was a number of ways he could twist that, and she had realized that he would .

Her sisters were of the firm belief that Elizabeth would handle it herself and none interrupted their back and forth. And she knew how nonconfrontational Jane was, and how Lydia's interest would grow if she attempted to ask for their help. So she didn't.

He would go away on his own anyway. He would run like a mouse with a cat chasing him, and as long as she kept Lydia away from the man, she wouldn't need to chop his head off his shoulders.

He might be militia, but she was one heck of a determined woman. She would rather have let Lydia become a widow that end up with trash like Wickham. She was much harsher than Mr Darcy when it came to her family.

How many chances had that man given Wickham just because of his father? Truly, Wickham was far too lucky a man.

And while they were walking back to Longbourn, where Wickham had promised to call on Elizabeth- ewww- much to her stoic disgust and her sisters’ giggling, she had just about endured the man's presence enough.

Thankfully, that was about the time two horses passed them by and stopped by them.

“Miss Bennet!” Bingley called out delighted and she let out a sigh of relief when he dismounted immediately to walk closer to Jane. Her eyes went to the other man by Mr Bingley's side, who was staring at Elizabeth and the man at her side. His face tightened with anger at the sight of Mr Wickham so fast, she almost thought she would be left to fend for herself yet again.

She silently begged him for help with her eyes and Mr Darcy closed his eyes for a second too long before opening them and proceeding to get off and follow Bingley in a manner one could almost call sedate, but was far too hurried for a man who hated social interaction with a fevor.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted first, and Wickham nervously stepped back at his approach. She smiled, relieved.

“Mr Darcy,” she greeted, “It's a pleasure to see you again. Might I introduce a new addition to our family?” She spotted his frozen expression (she hoped he hadn't thought she was about to point to Wickham! That wretched man better be on his way before she peeled his face off!) and smiled gently, leading him away from the equally frozen but far more frightened looking Wickham. “Mr Collins is our cousin. He arrived recently and is to inherit Longbourn,” she said.

Mr Darcy blinked at her in surprise, before catching on to her blatant dislike of the attaché she had acquired.

“Mr Collins, please meet Mr Darcy of Pemberly and Mr Bingley, who has recently acquired Netherfield,” she introduced to the overwhelmed Mr Collins, and Mary by his side offered the two men a smile and curtsy.

“Its a pleasure to meet another family member of Miss Jane Bennet,” Mr Bingley said, his attention still mostly on the woman by his side. Mr Darcy nodded in greeting, and she smiled at the two, though only Mr Darcy noticed.

“It is my-my pleasure,” Mr Collins stuttered, his eyes wide as he gazed upon Mr Darcy like he was watching some mythical creature descended down to earth. “Mr Darcy, would you have any relation to Lady Catherine de Bourge?” He asked, looking almost like he was about to jump with excitement.

She and Mary locked eyes and rolled them at the same time. They were all beginning to understand that bringing up Lady Catherine was his default when he felt out of his depth.

“Yes, she is my aunt,” he replied. Before Mr Collins could open his mouth to regale them about how delighted he was at this new discovery, she interrupted.

“If it wouldn't be too much trouble, might I ask, if you might be willing to escort us back? I do believe our mother has missed her chance to greet Mr Bingley while Jane was sick,” she said, smiling warmly at the lovestruck man. Bingley looked up at Elizabeth, delighted at her idea and agreed immediately. Elizabeth insisted that Kitty and Lydia act as their chaperone while she would stay with Mary and Mr Collins (and of course Mr Darcy).

Then she turned to face Wickham again, and if there was a slight smugness to her smile- well, she wouldn't know of it, now would she?

“Mr Wickham, I do believe you were telling me something, would you care to continue walking with us?” She batted her eyelashes, a clear taunt in her words. Wickham looked at Mr Darcy, who had not spoken a word, and then at Elizabeth and his mouth stretched into a awkward smile, but the superiority he felt over Mr Darcy was clear, because he didn't even hear the taunt she had laid in rather obviously with the invitation.

“Thank you for the invite, Miss Elizabeth, but perhaps another time. I seem to have taken up a lot of your time already,” he bowed to her, his eyes still set of Mr Darcy before walking back to Meryton at a slightly faster pace than normal. She sneered at his back.

“That you have,” she muttered under her breath. When she turned away from him, Mr Darcy looked at her with a concerned look.

“Has he been bothering you, Miss Elizabeth?” He asked, his eyes flickered back to Wickham, and a dark look flashed over his face.

“He has been persistent,” she waved off his concern. “I thought he was after Lydia or Kitty but thankfully, he only seemed interested in me,” she shook her head. “And hopefully he'll keep his eyes to himself. Or I'll make sure to dig them out for him,” she ended darkly.

Mr Darcy shook his head, a slight smile on his lips.

“I believe you have threatened yet another man, Miss Elizabeth,” he said almost lightly, “Should I be expecting some threats levied upon my person as well?”

“Not unless you plan to marry someone from my family,” her lips quirked up with humor.

“I have no intentions to pursue any of your, no doubt, vivacious sisters, Miss Bennet. I believe I have already become far too familiar with your fierceness when dealing against threats to your family,” and there was an odd note there. She wondered what it was for, but she could at least guess it was for Wickham. Or maybe-

( none of your sisters, he said)

“And what about you, Mr Darcy? You must have protected your sister just as well. And with your means and wealth, would you consider it to be easier or harder?” She asked, and there was an accusation there. She didn't know if he could read it.

Wickham wasn't dealt with only because Mr Darcy had chosen not to deal with him. She understood that it had only been a few months ago that he had tried to elope with Georgiana and Mr Darcy had no idea that Wickham would do it again with another young woman, when revenge wasn't his motive, but even then. Even if she had not a single idea about the kind of man he was, if she had the means to, she would have punished the man for hurting her family.

Mr Darcy was too kind to the man. He wanted to respect Wickham's father and he had let the man get away with too much. He had not wanted to use his own wealth and experience for his own gain. Not when he didn't need to. Or maybe it was Georgiana who had let him go free, asking her brother to not pursue the man who had almost ruined her because she still loved him.

Both of them would have thought it was a one time event. In her previous life, she too had been protected from the harshness of reality. Sure, you hear news about rape, serial killers, brutal murders, torture, or war, but most people just ignore it. Some people help out in some ways, but most don't understand the nitty gritty details of it- like how cruel humanity can truly get when they need to or when they want to.

Wickham was a disgusting man who went around ruining young barely-legal girls from families that would have welcomed him within their fold, only to be betrayed viciously. None of the other families would have had a Mr Darcy to pay him enough money to convince him to marry the girl.

Honestly, the fact that what he went about doing was still legal drove Elizabeth to murder. Unlike the people in this era, she was exposed to violence and sex of the kind that would have many of the gentlemen and women of this era gasp in horror. They would call her names and shun her from society if they knew.

There was a long stretch of silence as the two pairs of people walked to Longbourn. Mary and Mr Collins walked in front, and Elizabeth and Mr Darcy behind. She was grateful that Mary had distracted Mr Collins from talking to Mr Darcy because she had a bone to pick with him.

She wondered if she could get him to spill about Georgiana, but she doubted it. She would never have, not unless she both completely trusted the other person and believed they needed to know.

“Having the wealth to pursue whatever you want means that your morality needs to be even more rigid. I have the ability to affect many lives on a whim, and that gives me a responsibility to the people around me,” Mr Darcy glanced at her, and she looked back evenly, curious about his thoughts.

Even in the story, the implications about his character was evident. He was noble, responsible, stubborn and yet willing to listen to any faults, he believed in himself and his superiority, he was proud, prejudiced against countryside folks (mostly due to how backward it seemed to him when compared to the city) but that did not extend to the people under him, who he cared for like they were his own. He cared deeply for Elizabeth because of her headstrong, opinionated nature which anyone else would have been out off by. He did not respect her family, but he attempted to respect her, but later realized his prejudice against her family meant that he couldn't truly understand or respect her.

He was open to new ideas, new voices and thoughts. He was open to changing himself or his own thoughts based on logical arguments provided to him. And so many other things. He was willing to go the extra mile for things that he found were worth it like he found Lydia and Wickham for Elizabeth.

And aside from all that, Elizabeth was curious about his thoughts about himself. He was supposed to feel himself superior, but while he had been that for a while, she had found his attitude towards her had changed. Before she could have said for sure that he was the same Mr Darcy from the story, but now…she wasn't so sure.

“But simply having all that does not always give me the moral high ground. If I want to punish someone briefly, I cannot guarantee that their punishment truly will be as brief. I can ruin lives far too easily, Miss Bennet. And it is important to remember the weight of lives when you are in a position to influence them all,” he said softly, looking straight again.

To her chagrin, she found her enmity melting away. While it was true that her sister was in danger, she should not blame an innocent man for it. He had his own considerations and even though in the story he had turned away the moment he had seen Wickham, here, he had realised she wanted his help and stayed.

Even her mix of emotions was not at all his fault and he should certainly not be punished for it. He probably didn't even know what kind of things she was thinking with the knowledge of a future in her head. One for short term, and another so very far in the future, they would literally never live to see it.

“Your position seems quite difficult,” she spoke with a wry smile. “My uncle and aunt have been by Pemberly and they have always spoken very well of it. It seems that you and your family are well loved by the people there,” she said, remembering how being in Pemberly had thrown out every single prejudice that Elizabeth had had against Mr Darcy. She had also loved that moment. Where Elizabeth had been forced to reconsider everything she knew about Mr Darcy and in doing so, the affection she held towards him had risen to the surface.

“If you wish to visit, Pemberly will be open to you,” he said slightly more hesitantly, and when she turned to look at him in surprise, he continued, “of course, your sisters are also welcome.”

Elizabeth stared at him in silent shock.

Her? In Pemberly? What was this man even saying?

“I-” she started, before hesitating. She didn't even know what she wanted to say to something like that. She found herself completely speechless.

“Please, do not be burdened by the invitation,” he spoke. “Since I saw the attention and care you had put into your sisters, I have believed that you would also be a good influence on my own younger sister. With our age difference and our genders, there are quite a few things that my sister's finds…difficulty in entrusting me with.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked at her with sincerity.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, even though you are not the oldest of your siblings, you have assumed a lot of responsibility for them. You have a way with your sisters and I find myself in admiration of it. It would please me greatly if you could find it in yourself to speak to my sister as well,” he asked of her, his eyes almost begging her as he searched for her goodwill.

She turned away from the man, looking forward as she walked on. She wasn't sure about how to deal with a request like that. She had intended to not have any contact with Mr Darcy after he left. She hadn't wanted to harbor any hopes when she knew it wasn't going to be. But it was also a request that she found hard to outright reject, specially when she knew the back story involved in it.

“Do you not have any plans to return back to Netherfield?” She asked after a while, unable to decide on a concrete answer.

“I had planned to return to London for the holiday, and after the season ends, I must return to Pemberly to check on it as well. There are many urgent matters that my regent cannot handle without my presence,” he told her.

“Then it seems that your wish for a friendship between me and your sister might be hard if we cannot even meet. Bonds are best made when you spend time together, but it might be difficult for the two of us to connect simply by exchanging letters. I pray that you do not hold too high a hope,” she asked of him.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he called out to her, stopping beside her to stare down at her with an awkward raw sincerity. “I firmly believe that you make happen whatever wish you want to come true. If there is something that I can do for you, I hope that you will tell me as well,” he stared at her with this look in his eyes, like he wanted her to state everything her heart desired and he would attempt to bring to her all of what she wanted.

But she really truly didn't know if there even was anything else she wanted. She desperately wanted to say 'you’ because there was only so much denial she could take. She stared back into his eyes and wondered what she could even say to something like that.

She didn't know what he wanted her to say. She didn't know what she was allowed to say. She didn't know if she was allowed to even want .

Fate felt like a cruel bitch, because here she was, and there he was. And she didn't know what he wanted, but she was beginning to dread what she did.

“I believe a dance will do,” she said softly, unable to pull her eyes away from his. He gazed back, not even looking surprised by her words. He looked like even if she asked for the moon, he would be equally unsurprised and just as willing.

“I have already asked you for a dance at the Netherfield Ball that Charles has promised to host,” he said, his words almost hushed. The trees rustled around them, and she blushed deeply.

“Perhaps a second dance then?” She asked awkwardly, looking up at him, embarrassed. Two dances with one man was pushing at propriety. People would talk about them for ages afterwards, and Mr Darcy had already stated his plans not to return. She looked away almost immediately after she said the words. “I suppose it wouldn't be appropriate, my apologies-”

“No,” he interrupted, “I wouldn't mind dancing twice, Miss Bennet.”

She bit the inside of her lip, trying not to smile like an idiot who scored a date with her crush. Even though she was well aware of how unlikely them meeting again would be, she couldn't help the pinkening of her cheeks as they continued their walk again.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth was ashamed to admit that she had let her denial get the best of her for a long while. Honestly, it had felt better to be in denial than to admit (even to herself) that from the moment she had realized she was the main character of Pride and Prejudice, she had been pretending like it wasn't important.

Like, of course, it was important!

She was the main character!! She had the memories of the main character! Why wouldn't she wish for the epic romance of a lifetime for herself? She had loved the story- she had read it the first time, then read it a second time and then a third just so she felt that she got to properly appreciate it.

When she thought of classic romances, she thought of Pride and Prejudice before realizing people were talking about Romeo and Juliet, which she did not actually consider to be romantic. But Pride and Prejudice was- dare she say it- swoonworthy.

It wasn't completely because of Mr Darcy, who was awkward and didn't understand women at all, but also because of Elizabeth, which had been a big reason why she had been so horrified to be her. She knew and understood even further, from the way people around her reacted, that there were differences between the Elizabeth of before and who she was now.

But she also realized that there were some similarities that she hadn't considered before. And she hadn't actually considered who Mr Darcy was behind his adorable awkwardness and his badly timed bluntness.

There was a man there behind all that. And he was…

Kind. Considerate. He helped when someone needed it, and it almost hurt her heart remembering the time when she had only known of him as a character from a story. He was the kind of man who rich women would pick from the streets so they could marry. A kind of man whose 10,000 a year became a silly background detail that wasn't even important when compared to the character of the man it was attached to. In fact, it was a hindrance for someone of Elizabeth's status.

He was stupid sometimes, and he didn't know how to observe social niceties, but they had gone from silence to talking about a book and then back to silence and she had never realized there could ever be a man who just…let her do whatever she wanted.

He made her feel comfortable in a way she wasn't sure she had even been considered before.

Basically, he wasn't just a Mr Darcy to her anymore. And it oddly made her feel like she was betraying someone. She didn't know who though.

And now that she had finally reached her conclusions about Mr Darcy, she also knew what she needed to do about said conclusions. As in, she wasn't just going to pack it in a box and throw it at some corner of her mind. It might be funny to say after all she had done to stay in denial and actually arrange the circumstances that way, but she was quite afraid of Mr Darcy just leaving and never coming back.

Of course, there was that meeting at Rosings and she had an invitation from the man himself to talk to his sister. But. But.

They would all be moot rather quickly if she chose to just. Not go. And even if she did go, that did not promise that he would be there. After all, she was a rather different Elizabeth than in the story, wasn't she?

So the simple answer to the complicated question was- she needed to man up and pursue the guy herself. After all, she was a modern woman. She didn't need to wait for the guy to realize that she might be the love of his life.

And yes, she realized that the decision only pulled her farther away from Elizabeth's actions in the book. She was choosing to simply ignore it. After all, if he couldn't truly like her for herself, then what would be the point of the epic romance of the century?

She was and wasn't Elizabeth, and that would just have to be enough.

The day after Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley escorted the sisters back to Longbourn, along with Mr Collins, she woke up the next morning to loud shrieks.

The sun had long passed her normal early wake up time and she had accidentally slept in, completely missing her morning walk. And her sisters’ shrieks told her that she wouldn't get the chance to walk anytime soon. So she got up with a heavy head and asked a maid to fetch her water quickly. She also received the gossip from her that they were hosting officers who had called on the girls of the Bennet household, and something told her she knew exactly who one of them was.

Even more annoyed than she had been when she woke up, she joined the rest of her sisters in greeting the gentlemen, and Lydia winked at Elizabeth when Wickham stood up with a charming smile on his face on her entrance.

Her mother, delighted that someone was calling on her recluse of a daughter, practically shoved the two together and told them to get to know each other better. Mr Wickham smiled at her with a look that was far more charming than it should be, and lifted her hand to his lips like he was gentleman.

“We meet again, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, and the look in his eyes was way too familiar.

“And so we do, sir,” she said, trying to freeze him solid with her voice with very little success. There was a small uptick to his smile that he couldn't quite suppress at the ice in her voice.

“I apologize if I interrupted your morning rituals, I was told that you enjoy a vigorous walk in the morning,” he said, almost suggestively, and she tightened her hand into a fist, so very tempted to let it find its new home in his face.

“It is not a matter,” she got out when she managed to unhinge her jaw. “I have many other ways to relieve my frustrations.” His smirk became even more obvious at her words and she hated the fact that she understood the innuendo in her own words even though she meant it as a threat.

“I believe Miss Elizabeth, that you have some very hidden depths unlike many others I have met. Your beauty, while matchless, is unmatched by your wit,” he commended her. And she- you guessed it- wanted to punch him for the compliment.

The problem with the compliment was that it was exactly what she wanted to hear as a compliment, and to have heard it from a man like that? Ugh.

His eyes felt like a visible caress on her skin and she almost instantly wished to wash her very skin off.

“I do indeed have beauty, depth and wit,” she admitted shamelessly. “But I do not want to much hear such words from a man who I have not known for more than a day.”

“Ah yes,” he said, “I believe you were rather familiar with Mr Darcy yesterday. Perhaps it is him who you wish to hear such words from?” He spotted accurately. She narrowed her eyes at him, starting to lose whatever restraint she had.

“And whatever do you wish to prove by spouting such wild words? Will you spread rumors about me, or perhaps, the rumors will be about Mr Darcy?” She asked unflinchingly. “Will you say, 'oh poor dear old me from the military who got taken advantage of by a woman or, maybe, by a rich man, oh dear old me for being so very pathetic ’,” she spat out quietly. Wickham's eyes widened in shock at her words.

If it had happened in the story, it must have been his original intention. And even though it was a rather last minute plan, she was going to cut it off at the roots.

“Did you think I lived here as a joke? Do you think you can come into my town and spout rumors and people will believe your flights of fantasy? Try it, I dare you,” she smiled with teeth at him.

Wickham's face changed expressions so fast that she had a split second where she thought he was going to hit her. His jaw tightened so hard at her taunt that she could see his vein pulsing at his temple. She wondered if he would actually hit her in her own home. It certainly would do much to lend credit to any of her campaigns against Wickham, and men like him- whenever she chose to undertake them, that is.

“You crazy bitch,” he muttered under his breath as he stared her down, and she felt a flicker of surprise that that was all he did for several long minutes.

They were sitting a little away from the rest of the men, and her sisters were being loud while they talked to them. But even then, she hadn't expected either Wickham's level of restraint or their varied expressions to go unnoticed for so long.

“Do you really think a country chit like you can threaten me ?” He started, through deep heaving breaths. She smirked at him, cutting him off before he could continue.

“On the other hand, I'm surprised that you aren't already running from Meryton with your tail between your legs,” she sneered back.

He stared down at her with a rage filled face, and then, he slowly grinned at her. A vicious wide grin that she felt suited him far more than the charming grin. She tried not to show the discomfort such a look directed at her caused, but she read the intentions in his eyes almost instantly. Her lips flattened into a flat line.

A plan flickering through her mind.

She stood up abruptly, and then brought her hand around to slap Wickham across the face. He caught it by her wrist, surprised at her daring actions. She kicked his shin in return and he clutched it, letting out a hiss of breath.

“How dare you come into my house and insult my family?!” She raised her voice at him, the anger in her voice obvious. He caught on quickly.

“It wasn't my intention to, Miss Elizabeth,” he pulled off an Oscar winning act of acting pitiful as he looked at her, upset. The rage and irritation that flickered through her at that, was very genuine.

“You insulted my sisters, my father and my mother. How is that not your intention? If you have even a flicker of good intent in your body, you will leave right this instant!” She demanded.

“But Miss Elizabeth-” he started, and at that moment her sisters who had stood up concerned, and her mother who had arrived in a hurry after hearing Elizabeth's loud voice, approached her.

“What has happened, dear Lizzy?” Jane asked softly, but the hand on Elizabeth's back was firm. Elizabeth let out a shuddering breath, feigning weakness, turning her face to hide it on Jane's shoulder. There was barely a flicker of hesitation on her mother's face when she saw that, and she walked in front of Elizabeth pointing at the door with a white angry face.

“My daughter asked you to get out of our house,” the woman said, her words not even holding on to a modicum of politeness as she stared the man down with all the fury of a mother. “Out!” She demanded when he didn't make haste.

“My apologies for misspoken words,” Mr Wickham bowed his head politely, the hat laid on his chest. Then he put it on, his eyes set furiously on Elizabeth even as he tried to keep the rest of his demeanor polite, and she turned to look at him with an equally frigid look.

“Enough!” Jane said, covering Elizabeth's face and pulling it towards her shoulder to prevent any further eye contact, having noticed the fury in his. Elizabeth swallowed hard, before dropping her forehead against Jane's shoulder.

“Please leave,” Mary's voice came from somewhere around her, and Elizabeth heard as Mr Wickham stomped out of her house. She heaved a sigh of relief, almost surprised by how distraught she had actually been.

She hadn't been planning to let it get so far. Not even when she had seen the man in her very house. But as she spoke to him, and he kept prodding her for something to use against Mr Darcy, she couldn't help getting angry. She thought by turning his fury upon her, by making sure his attention was aimed at her instead of any of her siblings, she would save Lydia completely.

But it was mostly a facade. She was simply angry at him. She hadn't planning to go that far. She hadn't wanted to put herself in so much risk. This would be a wonderful time for an overprotective family or male lead to swoop in and solve her problems.

“I believe it is time for the other gentlemen to leave. We are not at a state to entertain guests,” her mother stated as Jane led Elizabeth away, and most of her sisters followed.

“Mama, I believe since they had nothing to do with Mr Wickham's rude behavior, we should at least invite them for a luncheon. It would be poor welcome if we behaved in a similarly rude manner,” Mary said, and Elizabeth dug in her heels before she could be completely taken away.

“I do believe Mary has it right, mama. The other officers have been the picture of polite behavior. Please let me apologize for my unbecoming appearance,” Elizabeth dipped her head in apology, looking pitiful. One of the officers stepped forward towards them.

“It was our fault for not realizing Wickham had invited us along for the journey with bad motivations. Please let me assure you that we had no idea about any of what he had said, and we do not believe any of that nonsense. All of the Bennet family have been nothing but kind to us officers,” he bowed his head in apology. Elizabeth smiled.

“Please, raise your head, good sir. I believe my aunt, Mrs Phillippe, has arranged a dinner party tonight. Please consider all of yourselves invited along, and I would request that Mr Wickham be not brought along to meet any more of my family,” she smiled sadly. The officer smiled at her, relieved.

“Of course, Miss Elizabeth. We would be glad to. Will we be seeing you tonight?” He asked.

“No, I believe this has been quite enough for me,” she waved off his good intentions.

“Very well then, Miss Bennets and Mrs Bennet. We will take our leave,” following the man, everyone else also left their house without protest.

“Oh dear, I believe we have prepared far too much food for the day,” her mother exclaimed suddenly as they watched the officers leave from a window.

Elizabeth sighed, relaxing so abruptly at their departure that she almost felt dizzy. She reached a chair and collapsed onto it, massaging her head as she did.

“Well, I certainly could eat,” she said wryly, amongst concerned glances.

“Are you all right?” Lydia asked, her eyebrows furrowed in concern, unsure of what to say. She had thought Wickham to be a charming and nice man who seemed interested in Elizabeth, and Elizabeth's reactions hadn't much convinced her otherwise. Her reaction that morning had been disturbing.

“I am well. I just did not expect Mr Wickham to be so sly!” She exclaimed, feeling the stirring of anger at remembering the words they had exchanged. “He said things that had seemed nice, but subtly he kept undermining everyone I loved. He was trying to manipulate me!” She looked up at the women who suddenly looked uncertain at her words.

“Lydia, he called you stupid and air headed. That you would follow the first man who gave you attention. Jane, he called you a piece of decoration! Mama, he said you were only worth the gossip people talked about and had no real worth! He said even more terrible things while talking to me! Even yesterday! I was so glad when Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley came upon us because Mr Wickham persistently followed me even when I told him that his attention was not needed! I didn't know what to do,” she exclaimed, and tears filled her eyes. She sniffed, rubbing it away.

“I am not sorry for my behavior. While I didn't not intend to behave that way, I will not apologise for it either,” she said finally, lifting her chin stubbornly.

“Oh, Elizabeth!” Her mother came up and hugged her. “It is all right. You love us so fiercely, of course, a man who does not understand your tendency to love should have no part in your life at all! I shall speak to Mr Bennet about this man's behavior! He cannot be allowed to behave in this manner with gentlewomen here!” She pulled away, muttering to herself about how she knew there was something wrong with Mr Wickham since the moment she saw him, even though he seemed like a pleasant sort of fellow.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, felt vindicated that this sort of behavior was acceptable. When Elizabeth had told everyone about how Mr Darcy had spoken rudely to her, she had turned a lot of the polite society against the man. He had his 10,000 a year on his side, but his taciturn nature spoke against him. Wickham was skilled in charm though, so she could not be sure how much it would affect him; which was why she had talked to the other officers.

Now to continue on with that thread and make sure she ruined Wickham's reputation amongst his colleagues- she needed to speak with Charlotte. Or more specifically, she needed to speak with her where she could be overheard by her father, and if she couldn't be overheard, she would directly ask him to keep an eye on Wickham because she was afraid he would come after her after she had ruined his reputation amongst young ladies.

To be honest, it wasn't the actual incident that was important. It was how much she dramatized it. She didn't need to give details, but as Elizabeth, who had a good reputation for being honest, if slightly mischievous, something like this was the perfect thing to let people see the pitiful side to her.

Amongst protest from her family, and citing the need for her friend with her, Elizabeth hurried to Charlotte's house to push her father into keeping an eye on Wickham. It was there that Charlotte opened her eyes to yet another very important piece of information she had completely forgotten.

If Wickham had plans to come after her, and she- being a woman from two eras- who had absolutely no knowledge of physical defence, then what was she to do?

…This was about the time her family became intensely overprotective instead of just intensely complacent and her male lead- who was very much Missing In Action- took up his role and came to her rescue.

She had a feeling neither was about to happen though. She regretted her life. Just a little.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth Bennet always seemed to draw eyes wherever it was she went.

Fitzwilliam had not been jesting when he had told her that he believed she would do well wherever she wished to do well. Even he could tell how ill suited she was to the gentle society. Not that there was anything wrong with her mannerisms, but simply that on closer acquaintance, it was easy to notice that she wished for more from her life.

While he scorned the mothers and the daughters who were always thrown at the men, specially when they held a higher station in life with disregard to their own talents and compatibility, even he had to admit, Longbourn felt far too small to contain the willfulness of Elizabeth Bennet's wildfire.

(She would do so much better in the wide, wild grounds of Pemberly. She would use her mind and passion for his home and turn it into something else entirely. He wished to see what would become of it. Because she would surely love it as much as he did. Surely.)

Elizabeth threatened and taunted men like she was on equal footing to them, she grinned wide and free, and loved her family with a fierceness that was unrivalled by any he had seen.

Women were taught early that they were to marry and after marriage their chances of seeing their own family was drastically reduced, and truly, he understood the pain. But Elizabeth loved like she would not exist without them, like she could not fathom her life without them.

He dearly wished to whisk her away to show her the wider world than this small countryside she had made her home. He wished to open her eyes, and show her everything he had the ability to, and he wished to be by her side when she did.

And she would. That he felt certain about. She would see the world with or without him. While Miss Bingley had once commented about her impertinence and independence that Elizabeth lived her life by- when she wasn't being charmed by Miss Lydia, that is- even she had said too little of it. Elizabeth was not a lady who could be restrained by their society.

She would burn the world, or herself, by the end of it.

And the more he knew of her, he was beginning to think it would be the latter.

“What did you say?” He said slowly, almost unable to understand the words spoken to him.

“Why, I do believe that the news has spread through the neighbourhood long ago, Mr Darcy,” commented Lady Lucas. It was one of the many engagements that Charles had agreed to, where Mr Darcy was forced to accompany so as not to be rude to his own host. They were drinking tea at the Lucas Lodge and the topic had fallen in the latest news. News which consisted of Elizabeth and Wickham, that wretched man.

“Mr Wickham called on Miss Elizabeth with a few officers, and ended up insulting the lady's family so badly, she demanded he never appear in front of her again,” she continued, keeping a sly eye on his reaction. Fitzwilliam almost gaped unattractively at her words.

Wickham had been a sore wound, and especially recently with his appearance in Meryton, he had been contemplating whether he should leave or not. He had had many an idea for what he should do to Wickham, but he also understood that there were many men who were greedy, selfish and demanded more when he could. He had no wish to involve himself within Wickham's tricks, with the hope that he would while away all the money he earned and end up in debtor prison sometime.

As he had seen of Wickham, he was well on his way to it, only his sly tongue letting him get away from it. But he was well aware that there were very few places for a man like that to run from the bad side of society. He liked gambling and drinking far too much to ever live an honest life.

He had not expected Elizabeth to see through the man so easily though. He had not expected her to act on it at all, even if she had either. But he remembered the words she had spoke to him.

‘-thankfully he only seemed interested in me-’

‘-he will keep his eyes to himself or I will dig them out-’

While the threats then had been surprising, it was even more of a surprise that she had actually intended to act on them. It shouldn't have been, but it truly was. Elizabeth seemed determined to act out as much as possible it seemed, and he was unsure of what sort of retaliation such an act would earn from Wickham.

He would not have thought the man capable of harming a woman, not even for money and all the bad habits in the world, but he had turned out wrong in Ramsgate. Suddenly he realized that he had no idea how far Wickham would go for his petty pride.

He had no idea how much of a risk Elizabeth would be in, and he held no trust in Wickham's ability to restrain himself. He felt a slow dawning of dread as he realized that Elizabeth might be in actual danger, and he had no idea if the lady herself was even aware of it, for she had a love for morning walks that was famous all over Meryton.

“-Darcy! Mr Darcy!” Mr Lucas called out to him concerned. “My word, Mr Darcy! The news must have been a shock for him to be so lost in his own thoughts,” he spoke to Lady Lucas and Mr Bingley, who hid a smile into a teacup.

“I apologize for my absence of mind. Indeed, I had not yet heard of such news before. I am acquainted with Mr Wickham's character, and I can attest that he is a gambler with only his sly mouth to speak well for. He has no redeeming qualities that I know of, and I am rather horrified that he attempted to force his opinion onto Miss Elizabeth,” he spoke at length, already ready to besmirch that man so as to support Elizabeth. Mr Lucas hummed.

“Our Eliza truly is a girl with a strong character. I trust her judgement of new characters in our town, especially when also supported by the words of a man with previous acquaintance with the man. She has not yet led me astray with her words of insight,” he praised her. At his words, Fitzwilliam's hard face softened a little.

“Yes, indeed. I am acquainted by the force of her conviction and character,” he nodded.

“As am I,” Mr Bingley added, a bright smile on his face. “Truly, the Bennets are lucky to have such a wonderful girl born to them.”

“Quite beautiful too,” Mr Lucas added, not so subtly staring at Fitzwilliam. He nodded agreeably to the words, not really paying as much attention. Mr Bingley tried to hide his laughter by sipping his tea.

“I will ask for more tea,” Lady Lucas said, getting up with a smile. Mr Lucas smiled and nodded, seemingly satisfied that Mr Darcy was indeed as smitten with the girl he almost considered as his daughter as he had expected. Now if only one of his children would endeavour to find someone as well…

“There is no need for it, because I believe we will have to be departing soon,” Mr Bingley said, all of a sudden. Fitzwilliam looked at his friend, surprised at the news. They had plans for after the tea break.

Lady Lucas looked the slightest bit flustered, but it was Mr Lucas who understood what they were talking about.

“Ah yes, I believe such news must have been concerning for the two of you,” he said smiling. “You have close relations with the Bennets, I believe. Very well then, but I must insist that you come back another day to finish our itinerary for the day!”

Mr Bingley laughed. “Yes, indeed, we shall.”

Fitzwilliam, caught on that Charles was taking such actions for his sake, frowned. It was not yet an urgent matter, but since he felt the urgency nonetheless, he decided to follow along with the change of plans.

Soon, they were wearing their outdoor hats and coats and were in their way to the Bennets.

“Why are you so insistent to visit them all of a sudden, Charles? It does not concern your beloved Bennet at all, and surely, you must have heard such news before I,” he told the man. He might be his best friend, but sometimes, he did not understand the ways his mind chose to go.

“Ah, but it concerns your beloved Bennet,” Charles said like it was obvious, and Fitzwilliam could not help but rear back from the words.

“I- what? When have I ever- and to Miss Elizabeth-” he stuttered in surprise. Charles openly laughed at him.

“See? Just bringing her up puts you in such a state, I do not know how you could ever pretend not to know. You stare at her constantly, so much so that even I have managed to notice. She surely must have as well,” he teased.

“You called her my beloved, of course such a reaction is guaranteed,” he muttered, reluctant to give him that. He had also noticed his tendency to get lost in looking at her. He found it hard not to, she had so much variety and depth to her passions that he found it hard to keep his eyes away . And while he felt the guilt of thinking so, it was even more evident during her stay at Netherfield, when she had tirelessly cared for her sister. Then another part of what Charles said caught his attention.

“Do you believe she has found me staring at her?” He asked, concerned. She had not given any indication of noticing it, though normally he would not realize even if she had. But Elizabeth had the tendency to speak aloud when something bothered her, and he doubted he would be any different.

“Indeed she has,” Charles nodded. “I have heard her speak about it so.”

Fitzwilliam hesitated, almost wondering if he even wanted to know the answer. “Does it bother her, that I do?”

“She had not said as such,” he said, a sly grin on his face, “Perhaps you should ask her. It would lay your mind to rest as well.”

Fitzwilliam's lips shut tight at those words. He had no idea how he should bring up the topic, not when he did not want to taint their acquaintanceship and easy conversations in such a manner. What if she found him disturbing? He remembered Anne once finding his habit of staring at the things that fascinated him, quite peculiar and odd in his childhood.

His father had praised him for his observant behaviour while at the same time asking he not behave the same with a lady he liked, for he feared she might run away before he even managed to make her an offer.

Suddenly, a worry that he had not even thought of, seemed far more prominent than even he had expected. He did not want Elizabeth to run away from him.

He waited impatiently for the carriage to arrive, for Charles to eye him, and then greet their host. Fitzwilliam bowed his head appropriately while trying not to talk about the words that seemed ready to burst from him. Charles asked for a walk, and Elizabeth naturally came to his side in a manner he found almost eerily similar to Miss Jane and Charles.

He was struck again, but how beautiful Elizabeth was. Her eyes roved over his expression in concern over the sudden visit, and one end of her lips pulled up into a confused but welcoming smile.

“Miss Bennet,” he greeted, and the other end of her lips pulled up as well.

“Mr Darcy,” she greeted back. “What brings a busy man like you to the edge of nowhere?” She asked gently with a tease. The wind blew a strand of her hair over her eyes and he wished he could gently push it back. Instead, Elizabeth rolled her eyes while pushing it all back with the ease of experience.

He liked that she asked him questions she wanted answers to, instead of small talk that would hurt both their heads. Not that they had never enjoyed small talk, but when it came down to it, Elizabeth had always been the kind to say what she wanted.

He had asked her to make a request and she had, indeed, made her request. Not that the request was any hardship. He probably would have been unsatisfied with just one dance as well and asked for a second one. It was just as well that their interests aligned.

(He would have liked a third or maybe a forth too, but alas, society dictated that it was not to be.)

“I recently heard news about your confrontation with Mr Wickham,” he started, then stopped. He was not sure how to assure her in this. Elizabeth, as always, smoothing his awkwardness over without even knowing.

“He had been quite bothersome while he followed me along from Meryton to Longbourn, but I have to admit, I did not expect him to call the very next morning. He certainly has the courage of a soldier,” she said, the dislike in her voice was obvious. He stifled an inappropriate smile.

“I have to speak to you about Mr Wickham so that you may know his character,” he stopped their walk to face Elizabeth. “Miss Bennet, you might be in danger.”

Miss Elizabeth Bennet showed no obvious sign of surprise at his words. He blinked, wondering if perhaps she already…knew?

“Miss Bennet,” he said gravely, “did you realize the kind of man he was before you threw him out of your house?”

Elizabeth raised her chin, her eyes flashing with surprised rage at his censor. “Do you believe that just because he is capable of retaliating, that I would allow him to continue to follow me, to walk inside my home and accuse me in such a manner, while I smiled and did nothing?” She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him. He swallowed, well aware of the right answer but still admiring the sight in front of him. Her rage made her eyes shine even brighter, and he found that it made him feel a tad speechless.

Elizabeth huffed, turning away and continuing their walk. He followed along. Behind him, he heard Lydia and Kitty giggle. Maybe they had even overheard them speaking. He hurried.

“I do not know what to expect from you, Miss Elizabeth,” he admitted, “but I do believe that you live to spur all my expectations.” Elisabeth turned to him, a raised eyebrow and an amused smile.

“Oh, now I live for you, is that so? Perhaps I should ask my mama if the reason for my existence has changed any,” she teased, and he flushed red at the words.

“I- that wasn't what I meant!” He said, choking on his words. Elizabeth laughed.

“Oh dear, forgive me. I do so like to laugh. And you, sir, make it far too easy,” she teased him again.

“Perhaps because I am not as learned in the art of conversing,” he said, still flushed from her teasing.

“Perhaps,” she hummed. “I shall give you enough practice to learn, nonetheless.” She nodded like a job well done, and he had to smile indulgently at her. He wished to keep this acquaintance and for that he truly did need her to be wary of Wickham.

“Miss Elizabeth, it truly is of grave importance,” he attempted again, feeling regretful that he had to break such an enjoyable atmosphere for something that clearly neither of them liked to talk about.

“So you have said,” Elizabeth said, the smile dropping off her lips as she continued to walk by his side.

“I have known Wickham since our childhood his father was my father's steward and he had enjoyed a close relation with our family. But he had grown up to be a terrible sort of man, and when he asked for commission instead of the living my father had promised him, I readily gave it to him in the hopes that it would end any sort of relation,” then he hesitated. He couldn't talk about Georgiana.

“Despite that, he has asked for more and when he did not receive it, he racked up a large debt. There are debtors who are after him, no doubt. He has shown vengeful behavior by attempting to run away with a young girl under my protection and has since kept low in fear of me,” he explained. Elizabeth heard his words with not a single change in expression, like instead of words of warning, his words were a story she had heard a million times over. He grew frustrated.

“Miss Bennet,” he requested, “please, keep yourself indoors or with multiple people when you aren't. Please keep yourself safe. ”

There was a long length of silence. But the silence felt contemplative on Elizabeth's end, and he waited with nerves that had rarely made an appearance in his life previous.

“Mr Darcy,” she said finally, “what do you think Mr Wickham will do if he does not find me?” There was a tone of finality to it, the tinge of logic that attempted to wash away his desperation- for it truly was desperation that he was feeling- made him want to go mad. But he still listened to her quietly.

“He will go for anything that he can,” she concluded by herself. She turned a smile upon him, and for a moment, he wished intensely that he had cut Wickham's hands off for attempting to run away with his sister. He should have, if only he did not have to see such a smile on her face.

“I do not know how far he can go, what he thinks he will gain from it. But since meeting him, I can tell that I have truly earned his ire beyond any recourse. He is a wicked man, and he will hurt me,” she said the words like they were a matter of fact. He closed his eyes.

“He will attempt to hurt my family if he cannot hurt me, and I will not have that. I will never allow that,” she said softly.

He couldn't aim any of his emotions at the lady by his side. What she said was the truth. If Wickham did not get to her, he would get to her family. He had done the exact same thing to Darcy, after all, and he had no words left to say.

He needed to find a way to permanently deal with Wickham. He turned around the moment the words solidified into an actual thought.

“Wait!” Elizabeth said hastily before he walked more than two steps away. “Please, let us complete our walk.”

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, too low to be heard. Then he sighed. He put the impatience and frantic worry deep inside, before turning to the lady again. She smiled when she saw her words had stopped him.

“Thank you,” she told him, and he silently shook his head. There was no need for thanks. He was simply enjoying her company as he had intended.

“Now then, unpleasant topics aside-” how could he set aside his concern for her welfare? he wondered silently. “-Mr Bingley seemed to be of the opinion that you had a concern about our time in Netherfield.”

Fitzwilliam fumbled. What an abrupt change of topic! And as he glanced at the lady's sparkling eyes, he realized that it was as shocking as she had intended it to be.

“When did he say as such to you, Miss Bennet? I had been by his side the whole time and I had not heard such words pass between the two of you,” he said, surprised. Surely he hadn't been that distracted?

“I will have to let it remain the secret for now, or Jane shall be very cross with me,” she said with a smirk. He would be quite cross if she did not say, he did not say as such but she kept smiling in that teasing manner, so he assumed she inferred so.

Truly, she seemed determined to not let him stew in his bad mood. But he still did not know how to bring the topic of his other problem up either. In this manner, Wickham was a much easier topic to speak of. She let him struggle for a few minutes of silence.

“Is it because you struggle with conversation?” She asked, a raised brow making the question sound light.

“While that indeed is true,” he could not help agree his own fault, “I wished to ask you about something else.” He thought for a few more moments, giving in to the topic both she and Charles insisted on.

“Charles told me that you had noticed me…staring,” he said hesitantly. She blinked up at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. When he did not, she tilted her head.

“Is that what you worried about? You staring at me?” She asked confused.

“I worried that you felt bothered by it. My cousin used to think it an odd habit that I would grow away from, but my father often joked-” he stopped. He couldn't actually say that. He cleared his throat. “-he often joked about how disturbing it would be to someone else.”

Elizabeth stared, wide eyed at the revelation. She seemed more surprised by his words than any he had ever seen. She almost seemed to go through life, perpetually amused and yet, almost like she knew all the steps to the dance that everyone else was seemingly dancing to.

But here, at these words, she stared at him with a surprise that seemed far too much for the little tidbit he had spoken. He had spoken of more personal things when he talked about Wickham.

“Miss Elizabeth?” he prompted. She visibly gathered herself up together and smiled, a slight flush appearing on her cheeks as she stared up at him. Her eyes sparkled.

“Did you have any other persons of interest or was it just me?” She asked, seemingly fighting some emotions amongst herself. He blinked confused at the direction her mind went.

“I believe I used to stare at tadpoles during the rain, and once I spent a whole day staring at a tree until Mrs Reynolds came to fetch me,” he said sheepishly. Elizabeth looked both amused and fascinated by his words.

“So I am to stand on equal grounds with tadpoles and a tree, I see,” she said in a manner of jesting. He shook his head in denial.

“I can never compare your beauty to any sight I have ever seen before,” he said without even thinking the words through. Then he paused because, why had those words just escaped him so easily. But they were quite true, so he looked at Elizabeth sincerely.

Elizabeth was staring at him unabashed, her skin slowly turned a pink and then a deep red as her eyes darted to the ground, almost unable to say a word more. She tripped on seemingly nothing and he reached out and steadied her briefly, and she placed a hand on his arm before choosing to keep it there while they walked. Elizabeth did not mutter even a word of thanks as she kept staring at the ground, her cheeks and ears flushed red every time he turned to stare at her.

He swallowed hard, before keeping his eyes on the path in front of him as well.

Meanwhile, the gentle sensation of her hand on his arm seeped under his skin and set him ablaze.

Chapter Text

Netherfield was beautifully decorated with Miss Bingley’s refined and exquisite taste. When their family arrived, Lydia let out a genuine gasp- not at the number of officers milling about, but at the beauty of the decorations.

Almost outright ignoring said officers, Lydia made her way straight to Miss Bingley, and even from a distance, Elizabeth could see the way Miss Bingley preened under her sister’s attention.

Kitty seemed put off though, looking a little lost before her eyes caught on an officer and she waved excitedly at him and got lost into the crowd.

“I have never seen Lydia do that before,” Jane said confusedly as she watched Lydia laugh brightly at something Miss Bingley said.

“Neither have I, but I do believe it to be a good sign,” Elizabeth whispered back. “Speaking of good signs…” she nudged her sister towards the gaping man staring slack-jawed at Jane.

Jane blushed prettily as Mr Bingley approached, lifting her hand carefully, as if he had to be careful with her. He couldn't take his eyes off her for long moments, unable to even speak compliments before Elizabeth cleared her throat loudly.

“Ah, yes! Miss- Miss Bennet, so lovely you are- I mean! It's a pleasure to see you again. You look-” Mr Bingley blinked a few times, as if trying to convince himself what he saw was real, “you look enchanting, Miss Bennet. May I have the honor of your first dance?”

“Of course, Mr Bingley. I would be honoured,” Jane replied, smiling serenely, but her eyes were lit up happily under his sweet attention. Elizabeth smirked slyly at the two.

“Mr Bingley, I do hope I warrant a compliment as well. I realize that my sister is beyond captivating, but I must insist on having at least one dance with you in recompense for this most grievous insult,” she joked.

“Lizzy!” Jane said, scandalized. Mr Bingley laughed.

“Of course, Miss Elizabeth. It would be an honor to have a dance with you, and I do believe you look wonderful as well. Please accept my apology by allowing me to have the next dance with you,” Mr Bingley said. The two of them looked at each other with the same kind of twinkling mischievous eyes and Jane put a hand on her forehead in mock-exhaustion.

“I had not realized the devil I would release by allowing the two of you to spend time together. May mother and father forgive me for the sins of this lowly daughter,” Jane sighed soulfully.

“Miss- Miss Bennet! There is no such thing! I consider Miss Elizabeth to be like a sister-” then he paused and blushed furiously. Elizabeth snickered, covering her face with a gloves hand.

“I will leave you two to your-” she coughed, “-discussions.”

“Why did that sound so dubious when she said it?” Mr Bingley asked Jane, and Jane let out a lovely laugh before diverting his attention away.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth walked around to catch up with someone familiar. She caught sight of Charlotte, who was conversing quietly with her neighbour.

“Charlotte!” She called out, her lips stretched in a smile. Charlotte turned and smile, before making excuses and making her way towards Elizabeth.

“Elizabeth! How on Earth did you all convince Mr Bingley to throw a ball here? It's ridiculously big!” She said, her smile a tad tipsy.

“Well, Lydia is very close to Miss Bingley, and the same with Jane and Mr Bingley,” Elizabeth said, hooking their arms together. “It was a matter of time, actually.”

Charlotte laughed.

“You're so sneaky, Eliza. You’ve been up to no good,” she shook a finger in front of Elizabeth, her eyes bright. Then she looked to the side and pulled Elizabeth to a little corner so they wouldn't be heard. “I am a little worried about this issue about this officer. I heard he insulted your family and that you were quite upset about it. Were you actually upset or were you making mischief…because if it was you making mischief, it wasn’t a kind thing to do, Lizzy.”

Elizabeth shook her head.

“Charlotte, you don't understand. He was quite charming, but I did not like him at all. He said all the right things but he got under my skin. He kept talking in a certain way about- about some people and it really made me feel sick to my stomach. I think you should stay as far from him as possible, Charlotte. He was not a good person, and Mr Darcy agreed as well,” she added. Charlotte laughed.

“My father was the one who broke the news to him about the confrontation between you and the officer, and let me tell you, my father said that his face was as dark as he had seen a man’s get. He looked like he would go off to challenge Mr Wickham to a duel to the death,” Charlotte said, her lips turned up as she looked carefully at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth frowned.

“I do not think the same way. I met him and while he did seem quite concerned, he did not seem murderous. He was only worried about the confrontation and the aftermath, due to his own history,” Elizabeth shrugged, a touch defensive. 

“I knew it,” Charlotte snapped her fingers. “You like him, don't you, Eliza?”

Elizabeth massaged her forehead, and sighed. Did she have to hate the man to fool everyone like in the story? How did Jane and Charlotte figure it out so quickly? She was planning to keep it down low and see how it went, not freak him out by making him think she liked him for his money. 

“Can you just pretend you don't know that?” She sighed exhaustedly. “I don't quite want to be known as a gold digger, thank you very much.”

Charlotte laughed, “Eliza, you're overthinking it. No one will ever think of you as one. You have always said that only love can convince you into a marriage. I am happy to see you find someone you deem worthy,” she joked. 

“Charlotte!” Elizabeth scolded. “Let us not talk about this matter any further.”

“Looks like your suitor is approaching,” Charlotte nodded to someone behind Elizabeth and she turned swiftly to find Mr Darcy staring at her. 

“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said lowly, his eyes set completely on her. “May I have the honor of your first dance?”

Elizabeth smiled at him, ignoring the discrete attention on them. 

“Of course, Mr Darcy. Though I must warn you that Mr Bingley has decided to take my next,” she said, mischievously. Her teasing remark was a reminder to their agreement of him taking two of her dances. 

To her surprise, Mr Darcy did not clam up at being teasingly reminded even in front of strangers. His eyes were still firmly set on Elizabeth.

“I will take it under advisement, Miss Bennet,” he said, only slightly curtly, then as swiftly as he had arrived, he left. 

“What's that look on your face, Eliza?” Charlotte asked after Mr Darcy left. 

“Just thinking that Mr Darcy is quite a private person,” she said before shaking her head. “Let us go. I need to show you how utterly sickeningly sweet Jane and Mr Bingley have gotten already. Chaperoning them was such a nightmare and not even because they would do anything inappropriate.”

“Now this, I need to see!” Charlotte said, her lips turning up into a smirk eerily similar to Elizabeth’s.

They reached the hall and Elizabeth talked a little more about the recent ongoings before the dances started. As if in cue, Mr Darcy appeared in front of her, looking at her like he could see under her skin and he held out his hand. 

The touch of her gloved fingertips to his palm made her feel ten times more aware of him, but she pretended like it didn't. Walking steadily to join the others, she saw both Jane and Mr Bingley, as well as Mary and Mr Collins.

“I do hope Mr Collins learnt a little more about how to dance or both their feet will be hopelessly tangled,” she remarked. Mr Darcy blinked at her confusedly. 

“It has been made abundantly clear to us that our cousin, Mr Collins, is not very exposed to society. Unfortunately, Mary is also not the most excellent dancer. So I fear for the state of both their feets by the end of this dance,” she clarified for him.

“I believe you introduced him as a pastor who often paid respects to my aunt,” he stated, as the beginning notes of music filled their ears.

It felt utterly luxurious to hear live music, with a hot man on her arm and a dance to get to. She privately wondered how scandalized this man would be if he ever knew about salsa, or some of the dance moves she knew- ones that would have had them pressed far closer than this time would allow them to.

“He is. I believe he has arrived in Longbourne to seek a wife. He is quite keen on my sister, Mary,” she told him.

“And will you deign to threaten him as well, if he so much as fails your expectations in any way?” He asked her, before they parted and she twirled once before joining him.

“It's like you know me already, Mr Darcy,” she teased and Mr Darcy’s eyes flickered with amusement.

Their first dance ended like that, them staring at each other's eyes instead of bowing to each other.

“Miss Eliza-” he started.

“Lizzy!” Mary stumbled into her, her knuckles white from how tightly she was holding onto Elizabeth’s arm. “Please take me to sit on the side. I fear my feet might be unable to hold me up any longer.”

“Mary? Are you all right?” She asked quietly, as she slowly walked with Mary to the seat, letting her collapse before she sat down beside her. Mr Darcy hovered for a moment and she looked up at him.

“Mr Darcy? Could you please get us a glass of water? I believe Mary has had enough excitement for the night,” she asked.

“Of course, Miss Bennet,” he said, before giving them the space to talk. Mary sighed heavily, leaning into Elizabeth.

“It's really nothing. I just discovered that neither I, nor Mr Collins, are the best of dancers. We stepped on each other’s feet so many times that both of us had to limp away from the dance,” she laughed, then her smile faded away. “I fear that he has lost whatever interest he had in me.”

“That's ridiculous, Mary,” she pinched her nose teasingly. “He has been so attached to you since I threw you at him. And it is the same the other way around. I have never seen you so interested in another human being.”

Mary laughed, “I have not! I love our family!”

“I never said you didn't, Mary,” Elizabeth said, “but, is it so odd that I'm seeing how terrible it is going to be when I'm alone in that house without my beloved sisters?”

Mary turned to look at Elizabeth sharply.

“You do not wish to marry?” Mary said, her brow furrowing.

“We will see what life has in store for me,” Elizabeth shrugged.

“That does not enthuse me, sister,” she said a tad sarcastically. “Please tell me what's wrong. I have all the time in the world,” Mary motioned to her hurt feet. They shared a smile. 

“I just feel a little lost, is all. I will figure it out, so do not worry about me. You should worry about poor Mr Collins’s feet instead,” she changed the subject. Mary rolled her eyes. 

“We both stepped on each other's feet,” she said automatically. Then she paused and smiled at her own words. “Is it odd that I found my own words very reassuring right now?”

“Not at all,” Elizabeth told her. 

“Perhaps the answer to your questions is simple too. You know what you can do, so you should do what you can. Everything might not go the way you will it to, but I hope that you will at least find happiness,” Mary said.

Then Mary’s eyes brightened as Mr Collins came stumbling. Elizabeth stood up and allowed Mr Collins to sit at her place. She quickly bid goodbye before making her escape. 

In her rush, she almost bumped into Mr Darcy who was standing there, about to offer her the water. 

“Mr Darcy,” she exclaimed. 

“Miss Bennet,” he said, slightly awkwardly. Then he gestured to the glass of water in his hand.

“Oh, thank you,” Elizabeth said, blinking at the water, then she glanced back at the engrossed couple. “But rather unnecessary. I don't believe it will be needed.”

“I am aware,” Mr Darcy said, placing it aside. “However I could not return empty handed. I have been scolded handily on my manners, but I do believe it would be far more awkward if I attempted to return without a drink of water after your conversation was over.”

Elizabeth’s lips quirked up.

“It does seem you are improving both your conversing skills as well as your ballroom manners, Mr Darcy. I will soon be able to give you a full marks for fulfilling your social duties,” she teased. Mr Darcy looked at her with light, yet intense eyes, but before he could reply, they were interrupted yet again. 

“Miss Bennet,” Mr Bingley came over with a bright smile, “I believe the second dance is about to start. Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

“Of course, Mr Bingley,” she aquised and then the two of them joined the bustle on the dance floor. Mr Bingley was as delightful a company as always, but both of them were slightly distracted, leading to minor mistakes in their routine that they laughed off.

When they finished, Mr Bingley walked her back to Mr Darcy’s presence, winking rather obviously as he said, “I have returned you into the presence of your chosen partner for the evening. Miss Bennet. Darcy.”

Then he cheerily went back to Jane.

“Perhaps I didn't threaten him well enough,” Elizabeth said, tempted to massage her forehead at the way her surrounding mama's whispered.

“He is incorrigible, unfortunately. You have simply fallen for his innocent act,” Mr Darcy said, lips twisted into a wry smile.

The two of them looked at each other before looking away, both blushing lightly.

Her third dance was with Mr Darcy again, and it was astoundingly sweet, for all that they didn't actually touch much at all. They twirled back to back, and twisted through a complicated series of steps before ending with his hand holding hers.

They bowed to each other, and she smiled brightly at him. His eyes were wonderfully blue in the light and his hand was warm even through her gloves. The intimacy of a single hand touch was astounding, when compared to the amount of casual affection she was used to, with her sisters.

She could barely differentiate the blush on her cheeks from the thrill of the dance or from the numerous small touches.

It was fun.

“Mr Darcy, are you not afraid of the mama's who will descend upon you after this show of good manners?” She asked curiously.

“As my sister says, it is exceedingly difficult to make me so something I do not wish to do,” he said in response. She laughed. 

“I dearly hope to meet your sister. She must have a sense of humor under all the angelic sweetness that everyone keeps telling me about, if she is teasing you like that,” she grinned.

“Georgiana does enjoy teasing me so. She would have latched onto you the moment she met, if she were here, regardless of if I wished it or not,” he said lightheartedly. Then there was a flicker of sadness in his beautiful eyes when he seemed to remember his sister's circumstances. 

“She sounds like she would fit right in,” Elizabeth replied lightly. “If she can defy and tease the person she loves and respects the most, there are few things she would not be able to do. After all, she knows that she will always have your love and support. As long as she never doubts that, she will have the strength to do whatever she wants.”

Then she turned to face him, looking at him kindly.

“The young woman you mentioned last time. It was Georgiana, was it not?” she asked directly. Mr Darcy froze, eyes wide with shock.

“I won't say anything. I promise you. I just wanted to tell you that when something like that happens, what any woman wants to know is that she is still loved. That she is not to blame for it. She needs to know that it has not ruined the best parts of her life. That she is not tainted by it forever. And she needs you to tell her that.” She looked directly into his slightly pained expression without a single expression. “Have you? If you have not yet done so, you should do it as soon as possible.”

Mr Darcy’s lips were white before he nodded curtly at her. He looked at her for a long moment before he turned around and walked away, disappearing from her line of sight smoothly. 

She sighed to herself.

How was it that even walking away, he looked so goddamn good? No wonder he was the male lead of a classic romance.

She didn't see him for the rest of the night.

During breakfast on the day after the ball, when it was only the Bennets and Mr Collins who were gathered, Mr Collins stood up and cleared his throat.

Everyone paused to watch him, with their pounding headaches from drinking or tired feet from dancing or being treaded upon, and he shifted uneasily from one foot to another before he looked at Mary and seemed to gain strength from the smile she offered him.

“Miss Mary Bennet,” he said, “May I have the honor of speaking to you privately?”

Lydia and Kitty burst into knowing giggles and Jane and Elizabeth shared a look before everyone turned to Mary. Elizabeth gave Mary’s hand a brief squeeze before their mother dragged everyone out of the breakfast table to leave them alone in peace. Surprisingly, Mary did not look bothered by their mother’s evident excitement.

As expected, the moment the door was shut, everyone pressed their ears to the door to listen in.

“Miss Mary Bennet,” Mr Collins cleared his throat, “I have come to speak with you, with only one purpose in mind. I have received permission from Mrs Bennet before I asked to speak with you in private. Surely, it is a purpose that I have acknowledged before, but please, allow me to reiterate it again.

I came to Longhorn looking for a bride, and due to the guidance of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, I have found one amongst my cousins. I believed for the longest time that it is only right for a clergyman with easy circumstances to set the example of marriage for his parish, and since meeting you, this belief has only strengthened.

I believe that this will only add to the happiness of both, due to circumstances and affection. I don't believe I have seen wrongly to have believed in the strength of our convictions,” he went on for a bit, but to her surprise, it didn't sound like as bad a proposal as the one Elizabeth had received. By the end of the rather long, rambling proposal, there was a clearly nervous silence.

The silence dragged for a while before there was a clear sound of a giggle. A giggle that Elizabeth almost couldn't believe came from the throat of her younger sister Mary.

“Sir, you truly do me honor. But it is not only Lady Catherine de Bourgh that you have to thank, but my older sister Elizabeth as well. We have spent many an hour reading each other sermons and you have often listened to me playing the piano as well. Truly, the time we have spent together has been delightful. I most certainly do choose to accept your proposal, and I do so happily,” said Mary, and even through the door, she could hear the note of relief through her voice.

“Oh! Miss Mary Bennet! Truly! You have made me a happy man today. Thank you,” burst out Mr Collins.

Lydia and Kitty burst through the door just then, laughing and congratulating the pair. Everyone else followed after, out of whom their mother looked the most delighted, literally crying tears of joy. She rushed to Mary and hugged her tightly, wishing her well and giving her blessings for the future while crying all over her.

Mary’s face was pink but she laughed happily, looking almost like a completely different creature. She looked like a heaviness, a burden, had lifted from her shoulders and when she caught Elizabeth's eye, her smile was from the heart.

Chapter Text

There is nothing lonelier than being both out of time and having the people you love be distant to you. It was something that Elizabeth was surprisingly hurt to discover.

Jane was in love with Bingley, Mary was about to marry Mr Collins, and she could barely get her act together. Their mother was up in titters, excitedly preparing for Mary’s wedding. Mary was tremendously busy as well, having to get her wedding dress fixed, being pulled into their crying mother’s arms as she repeated incessantly how happy she was with Mary.

Well, it made sense.

After all, Mary’s marriage to Mr Collins made sure that they couldn't be kicked out of Longbourne after their father’s death, which would hopefully be far, far into the future. But it was still a concern, and Mary’s future, at least, was certainly set with almost 2000 a year, as long as they didn't have a million daughters.

Honestly, Elizabeth couldn't help but feel bothered by the drastic changes in her life. Where once she used to worry about working for money, now she was thinking about taking advantage of a man for it. It was a disturbing change in many ways, but in some, she understood.

She still wished there was more she could do. She enjoyed vacation days as much as the next worker, and she loved being able to go to parties, wear pretty clothes and dance as much as she wanted. But the thing was, she also enjoyed the sense of purpose her work gave her.

It wasn't much, but it was something. She didn't want to work all the time. She actually liked being able to go on walks and re-reading all those books her father had in his library all over again. She liked being able to read all those books he studied in university and comparing the amount of things they hadn't even discovered yet.

And, she wouldn't say managing Longbourne wasn't an interesting task, since her father didn't quite care and she was far more up to the task than the previous Elizabeth and Jane had been.

That said, she kept herself quite busy. She finally understood why Elizabeth kept herself so scarce, locked up in her father’s study. It was absolutely terrible, how hectic everything was.

Mary barely had time to breathe, let alone anyone else. Elizabeth had ridden to Meryton for a total of 3 times in one day because mama had forgotten something or the other.

And they hadn't even started the venue preparations.

In a mere few days after the proposal, Mr Bingley left for London after a brief visit to Jane and a congratulations for Mary and Mr Collins. Mr Darcy had left soon after the Netherfield Ball, as well.

She hadn't been very surprised by that after all the things she had said. After all, he was the most sensitive about things that related to his little sister, Georgiana.

It hadn't even been her own advice she had given him either, but it never hurt to have the one you loved the most, tell you they loved you. Specially when it was Georgiana’s own companion who betrayed her.

Well, she wasn't planning to spill any sordid details about all the things she knew that she shouldn't. Thankfully, she hadn't said more than she should have during the ball.

But perhaps she shouldn't have said anything at all. After all, Darcy was said to have taken care of his sister after the incident, right?

Right.

Well, unfortunately, she had vague memory of the story and one of the common troupes was for the brother to be protecting their sister from behind the scenes, without telling her he loved her. So, she had said something.

She didn't know if his reaction was because she knew about Georgiana or because he hadn't shown his sister that she had his explicit support.

Either way, it wasn't exactly the best way to end things, that's for sure.

Aside from her mixed feelings about that situation, she spent most of her time with Charlotte, a lonesome Jane, or Mary, who was exhausted at everyone’s excitement.

Mr Collins had gone back for a short while, and they were left to celebrate their last time as a proper family. Who knew when Mary would be back for a visit? And who knew if Jane would even be there? She was on her own way to being married to Bingley.

As the end of the year arrived, Mr and Mrs Gardiner arrived from London to celebrate Christmas with the family. Their kids were at home under the watchful eye of their nanny, as the couple socialized freely with their nieces.

Elizabeth let out a relieved breath when they two didn't seem to notice anything too odd, unlike her closer companions. Thankfully, it was turning out that with Elizabeth’s memories, it wasn't as weird as it used to be, to be Elizabeth.

It used to feel odd. She still remembered feeling nauseous the first day, how she had felt like she was about to faint and how Mary had come after her. She remembered thinking that Elizabeth had taken her family for granted, but it hadn't been true.

She loved her family, and so she loved her family too. She never wanted to hear that disastrous first confession Darcy had made, where he had insulted her entire family, and then turned around and proposed to her.

If he hadn't been as perfect as he was, it would have been a genuine surprise for her that Elizabeth had accepted him after all. But he had gone above and beyond what he needed to do.

She shook her head, trying to get him out of her mind. It was ridiculous how easily she slipped into thinking about him. She didn't even like him! (That much!)

However, she wouldn't mind actually pursuing him. Who knew if he would see something in her? Like, a guy like that?

Instead, of the actions of Mr Darcy from the book, she found herself thinking about the man as she knew him. He was definitely very awkward, and had a difficult time talking without being offensive, but she was a very understanding woman and she had gotten around to him after a while. It helped that she wasn't actively trying to antagonized him like the original Elizabeth.

While there was certainly much to improve, she was happy with her acquaintanceship with the man. 

Unfortunately, it really wasn’t as simple as she thought it would be. In her dating experience…well, she certainly would have gotten a little handy already. It brought intimacy to a relationship.

Here, however, that was impossible.

She was slightly embarassed to admit that she was a little out of her depth in romantic relationships. How did people here even work it out? Jane and Bingley were ridiculously domestic, so it made sense. Mary and Collins shared basically, most of their hobbies.

How could she pursue a man in the mediaeval times?

This would be easier if she could just take him out for a date…

No one went to London with Mr and Mrs Gardiner, and soon after the New Year, both Collins and Mr Bingley came back, and the wedding preparations were almost done as well.

They had prepared a small ceremony at the local church and though Mr Collins had almost been tempted to be the pastor for his own wedding, he had been brought down the ledge by Mary.

But with how busy they all had been, there had not been a single chance for Mr Bingley to sit down with their family aside from meeting Jane on the way from or two Meryton. He seemed disappointed each time Jane had to gently let him down with the excuse of being busy, and she knew that Jane was also taking it hard, even if she did not say the word.

In the end, they had a sweet wedding and Elizabeth had to hug Mary extra hard, feeling the loss hit her. Mary had seemed overwhelmed during the wedding so Elizabeth hadn't been able to say much aside from well wishes.

The reception in Longbourne had been as grand as they could make it. Mother had been smug, and the neighbouring mama's were jealous of the good fortune of the marriage. Though, most didn't have to worry about their estate since they already had a male heir to inherit, unlike them.

Mr Bingley, Miss Bingley, Mr and Mrs Hurst were all invited, since they had all been at Netherfield. Lydia had often taken to carriage to visit Miss Bingley, and had on one occasion, invited her to Longbourne. However, the wedding preparations had put Miss Bingley off and the carriage had been used to go back and forth from the town, so Lydia hadn't been able to speak with Miss Bingley often either.

The wedding and reception had given all four of them time to interact a little more and dear Kitty had ended up chaperoning Jane and Mr Bingley with her. Elizabeth could tell that her second youngest sister was also feeling lonely.

Still, it was a joyous occassion and she kept a smile on her face. Jane had been ecstatic to talk to Mr Bingley again, and the day after the wedding, with Mary and Collins left for Hunsford, he visited them again and asked to talk to their father.

She had honestly been surprised when their mother had burst into tears, and for once, they were not the happy kind. Or at least, not only the happy kind.

Still, mother had not said anything, unwilling to ruin the moment for Jane. And the moment Mr Bingley had left their father’s library, he had asked for a private moment with Jane.

The proposal, however expected it might have been, was touching to witness. Mr Bingley and Jane kept looking each other and laughing, faces blushing red.

And their mother kept crying, half happy, half sad, while Lydia was ooh-ing at the ring Mr Bingley had presented to Jane.

Thankfully, Bingley was a good man, who understood how loved Jane was, and he agreed to a longer engagement.

Jane was over the moon anyway, and she spent the rest of the day walking on cloud nine and smiling big enough to proclaim her happiness to everyone.

Elizabeth couldn't help feeling a whiplash, as well as surprised. Mary had barely left and Jane was already engaged. And…she had actually changed the story.

She had somehow not been expecting it. When Jane getting sick and the way Mr Darcy had asked her for a dance, she had almost been expecting there to be a higher power making sure the story went as it should.

It hadn't exactly deviated much from the story as far as she could tell…that is, until this engagement. Jane was supposed to get engaged near the end of the story when Mr Darcy told Bingley that Jane actually did love him.

But because of her actions in Netherfield Park, he hadn't left Jane. In fact they had been far more lovey-dovey than any scene in any show, movie or book had ever described.

Aside from that though, she was already missing Mary, and she could barely imagine what missing Jane would be like. Surely, it would be like being told to tear her arm off? How could she ever part with her?

Already, she missed the times Mary played on the piano and Elizabeth hummed quietly under her breath while their mother and servants ran around preparing for the reception. Or just the way Mary had supported her while she had planned to get Bingley and Jane spend some time together. 

Or the way Mary’s love and concern had calmed her down from panicking during her first night as Elizabeth Bennet.

She would miss Mary, and she would miss Jane.

“Are you alright, Lizzy?” Jane asked her, her smile soft and understanding. Elizabeth shrugged. 

“I just miss Mary, Jane,” she patted Jane’s hand on her shoulder. “I know I'll see her again, but her marriage was so quick. It feels like just yesterday that we were watching her start playing on the piano,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh yes, I remember the way she demanded lessons for herself, because even if her sisters didn't want to, she did,” Jane giggled at the memory.

Mary had been young and resented the attention her younger sisters received from everyone. She had gone to the local church and then refused to come out, only being convinced when the pastor’s wife had promised to teach her to play.

It had been one of her few tantrums. After that, Mary had grown quiet and distant, still childish, but she had been the middle child lost in a big household.

In a way, Elizabeth had been similar. Charlotte’s parents had been really good to her as well, when she had been at odds with her own family. 

“I'll miss her,” she confessed. She knew how her friends got after being married and she hoped that it wouldn't be the same.

She hoped the same would go for Jane too.

But more that that, she was starting to worry about another thing.

If the story wasn't being forced to go a certain way, then why on earth had Wickham not attacked her yet?

Her days returned to normal. 

It had been odd, to say the least. After the wedding, her mother was found crying by the piano and even Kitty and Lydia sent Mary letters. The house seemed too empty without Mary to wake them up playing the piano.

Elizabeth also wrote letters to Mary, and she confessed to having a difficult time adjusting. In fact, she directly invited mama to come visit her and Elizabeth knew how lonely she must have been feeling to call their mother.

However, in a matter of two weeks, mother returned, angrily talking about Lady Catherine. Apparently, they had gotten into a little tiff about whose daughter was better at playing the piano and Mary had a right laugh about it.

She had felt a little overwhelmed due to Collins’ worship of her, and the Lady’s overbearing personality, and had decided on a whim to invite their mother. As expected, it almost seemed as if it would go well, since mother was in awe of her wealth, but when the Lady started speaking of her daughter's accomplishments, mother also brought up Mary and how delighted the Lady must be to have a companion willing to play the piano for her so often. 

Somehow, it escalated from there until mother ended up leaving Rosings early. Mary had felt gratified to see mother actually argue with her like that and had been surprisingly at ease with the idea of the Lady’s anger being directed towards her. She had told Elizabeth that she and her husband had long talked about it and he had promised to stand by her if anything offensive about their family was ever said.

It was surprisingly sweet.

From what she remembered, while Charlotte had enjoyed taking care of the house, she had never really appreciated Mr Collins. Though, she had been affectionate towards him.

She hoped that Mary and Collins had a better relationship than those two had.

Maybe she should pay the two of them a visit…perhaps during Easter?

Her plans aside, she had gone to Mr Lucas and asked about Mr Wickham and had been surprised to be notified as to the change in his posting. Apparantly, he and Mr Darcy had asked for a transfer, and the Chief had a little bit of history with Mr Lucas and granted it. Mr Darcy had just been ‘convincing’ enough to make sure it happened.

…She didn't know how something she had been dreading a little, was suddenly resolved. Was this the power of a male lead and the ‘I know your boss’ card?

It was surprisingly a good feeling…even though she had an idea for how Mr Darcy made it happen so easily. She was pretty sure Wickham had left Meryton a little earlier than the story dictated though.

It seemed like, she certainly would have to take this little step herself.

So.

Should she go to Hunsford or should she not?

Chapter Text

Elizabeth Bennet was in Hunsford.

“This place is surprisingly nice, Eliza. But I still don't know what I'm doing here,” said her companion, one Charlotte Lucas, as she waved a fan in front of her face.

“Because Mary told me that being in front of Lady Catherine needed firepower,” Elizabeth hissed at her, as a pig oinked at them and a woman gave them a suspicious side eye.

“It's not like she’s planning to have you marry someone. Why are you so worried?” Charlotte asked, rolling her eyes. Her eyes widened, as she spotted a man.

“Oh look, do you think he is married? He looks- oh nevermind, I think I see his wife,” she sighed disappointed. “How is it that every half-decent man is always married already?”

“Don't worry, Charlotte. Maybe if Lady Catherine is pleased with you, she'll have someone you can marry and live happily with,” Elizabeth said, looking for Mary. She had already informed her about their time of arrival.

Charlotte paused for a moment before laughing in surprise.

“I’m still surprised how much you have changed. Before Mr Darcy, you would have said that love should be the only motivator for marriage,” Charlotte said. Elizabeth gave her a look from the corner of her eye.

“What?” Charlotte blinked, surprised.

“I would have only said it out of concern, if I did. And it wasn't Mr Darcy, but Bingley and Jane who changed my mind. I can, on occasion, admit my wrongs. Love can be of different types, and originate in different ways. But I do still think that acceptance and honesty is the basis for any proper marriage,” Elizabeth told her before breaking into a smile, having found Mary.

“Mary!” She called out, and Mary turned her head towards her, her smile warm and wide. They met in the middle with a tight hug.

“I missed you so much, Lizzy,” Mary said, as she pulled away, then she acknowledged her other guest, “Charlotte.”

“Mary,” Charlotte bowed, “you have a wonderful home.” Mary winced but she put on a smile.

“About that…Lizzy, could you help me a little?” Mary led them inside. “Oh, if you're tired you can rest a little. I hope you don’t mind sharing a room. We are a little tight on the space.”

“Would you mind if I rested for a while?” Charlotte asked, clearly letting Elizabeth have some alone time with Mary.

“No, of course not,” Mary waved it off before dragging Elizabeth away. Elizabeth grinned back at her friend and followed her sister. “The living room is a disaster. We need to arrange this room, but you're my next best hope. I was hoping by companion, you meant Jane, but she's also planning her own wedding with mama. I can't imagine how hectic it all must be, back in Longbourne.”

“Well, Jane is over the moon and mama keeps crying a lot. Lydia and Kitty pretend to have taken over chaperoning Bingley and Jane, but it's only Kitty doing it while Lydia is off doing god knows what with Miss Bingley. So, it's safe to say that I was looking for any excuse to get away. I'm just glad to see you,” Elizabeth pulled Mary into another hug and the women smiled before pulling away. 

“All right, sister, you have shown me all the affection I needed. I must say, William is exactly as affectionate as I thought he was. I'm still not sure how much I like it,” Mary said, but there was a small smirk at the edge of her lips that told Elizabeth she enjoyed it. 

“I can see that marriage becomes you, Mary,” Elizabeth teased. “You look happy.”

“It's quite an interesting change. However, I cannot help but miss Longbourne. I know I can visit, but when mother arrived, she told me to settle down a little more first. It's smaller and quieter than back home, but that is exactly what I enjoy about it. I can finally hear myself think,” Mary smiled fondly, though whether she was thinking of her husband or her natal family, only she could tell. 

“No Kitty and Lydia running afoot. No mama telling for the laundry when the rain arrives,” Elizabeth continued. “I cannot imagine how big a change it all must be. But, we all miss you. A few days ago, Kitty was calling for you, and even asked mama where you were, before she realised that you had already left.”

“That makes me feel better,” Mary said, smiling with melancholia. “Let us stop talking about this already. I need your help to fix up this living room. Lady Catherine has given us some things so it's impossible to throw them out, but I will not be forced to put up with decorations I do not like, in my own home!”

“Of course, Mary. What would you say to a couple plants? It would go well if you put up some scented flowers along your window. Maybe something lavender to go with the walls,” Elizabeth suggested. “And do you plan to keep this table? I don't think it goes with both of the chairs. Should we look for some replacements around the house?”

“Yes, exactly. William is oddly invested in keeping both the chairs and the table but if we manage something before he comes back, he won't be able to protest. Much.”

“Then we should get to work!” Elizabeth clapped her hands cheerfully. Thankfully, she used to be obsessed with interior decor DIYs so she was at least prepared! Thank you, her curious past self!

Time went by in a flash.

Charlotte ended up helping them as well, when she heard them rummaging around. She was used to dealing with the problem of decorating living rooms smaller than Longbourne, so her advice was invaluable.

In the end, they even ended up going to the carpenter to place an order for a table, unable to do much of anything with the chairs. The other table would be placed in the bedroom for the two of them.

They also got a few pots of flowers to help and Elizabeth ended up putting the extra pots wherever she found space in the house. She would write a list to remind Mary to water them appropriately. They would simply have to wait till the table was done before making any more changes. 

Collins was quite flustered at the presence of two extra women and could barely even greet Mary properly. Mary smiled and whispered something to him, making him blush before he greeted the two of them with a tad more dignity.

The dinner that night was simultaneously both like and unlike what she had been expecting. Mary would occasionally place her hand on his when he started stumbling over his words excitedly, and he would widely smile at Mary who would start looking sheepish and embarrassed all of a sudden.

It was cute to see Mary like that. She had always seemed almost more unwilling to marry than Elizabeth, and here she was- the first of the sisters to get married. 

She was glad to see it turn out this way. 

Charlotte seemed happy for Mary. Slightly envious of seeing the life she wanted, but not truly jealous of Mary.

They ended the night with the three of them in one bedroom and Mary and Elizabeth shared stories of how they all used to share rooms, even in a house as nice as Longbourne. It just wasn't meant to fit so many children.

The three of them spent the night laughing and Mary fell asleep with them. Elizabeth felt a little bad for Collins, but honestly? Not really.

Mary was her sister after all. 

The next few days passed quickly.

They went to church for the sermons and Mary had never looked so blissed out as she did saying them. Elizabeth was honestly happy for Mary, and also, she had missed being woken up to the sound of a piano playing. 

It was quite funny that Lady Catherine had outright given her extra piano to Mary as her wedding present because she came over to play so often. She wondered if it happened anyway in the story. She didn't remember. 

However, church was exactly as exhausting as it used to be. Only Mary was much happier and Elizabeth didn't have her family to suffer with her. Charlotte was a tad more attentive that her, but she could clearly tell that her friend was only pretending so as not to offend their host. 

Elizabeth knew Mary wouldn't care. She had lived with far worse after all. Kitty and Lydia didn't even pretend to care, and Jane and Elizabeth would use any excuse to sneak away. Only Mary had ever cared about, looking deeply into the words and interpreting them for herself. 

It was one of the things that made the two of them a good match.

After sermons, they were informed that tomorrow night, they were to have dinner at Rosings, with Lady Catherine, which Mary told them was a common affair. Lady Catherine liked Mr Collins and she wished to solicit Mary as well.

The tiff with her mother was a brief affair that had no bearing in her state of mind. She continued as soon as Mary’s mother was gone, as Lady Catherine had repeatedly said she would. But this time, Mary tended to stand up for herself a little more.

Not enough to ruin their relationship, but enough to tell her that she would not be running roughshod over her. Good for Mary!

Time went by dreadfully slowly as Mary rolled her eyes and told them about Lady Catherine. Mary, somehow, didn't really seem to care. But Mr Collins was in a tizzy, seemingly frantic as he hovered around his wife or puttered around nervously.

The dynamics would be funny to observe if it wasn't making her nervous.

She knew that Darcy would be at Rosings around this time. She didn't know if he came because he heard Elizabeth was there (she would not be disappointed if he didn't come) or if he was genuinely just visiting his aunt and stayed a little longer because of Elizabeth.

Either way, she should be thinking more about how not to start a screaming match with the woman. God. She didn't want to be kicked out like mother, no thank you.

Thankfully, Mary had things far well in hand than she would have ever expected.

The four of them arrived at Rosings the next night, looking modestly dressed. They were welcomed by the butler and there were silent footmen stationed everywhere. They were welcomed grandly into the large living room with a grand piano she already knew of. 

After the first acknowledgement of “Mr and Mrs Collins” which still sounded ridiculously odd to her ears, Mary introduced her guests. 

“This is my second oldest sister, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and her companion, Miss Charlotte Lucas,” Mary introduced. The two of them bowed in sync.

“My word, are neither of you two married? I would have expected after your mother arrived that I would see your married older sister with you,” Lady Charlotte said, she was clearly looking down on Elizabeth and Mary while ignoring Charlotte completely. 

“My older sister is not yet married, Your Grace,” Mary said. Her voice sounded as calm as always, but there was a tinge of sharpness in it that she had never heard of. Elizabeth wanted to hide a smile.

“Yes, so it seems,” Lady Catherine waved her hand and allowed everyone to sit.

“So tell me, Miss Bennet, do you play? I have heard your sister’s and it is acceptable, however not as good as my own daughter’s of course. My daughter is a brilliant musician. In fact, she often plays for me when she feels well enough to. Since she is ill often, however, I have to make do with poor substitutes,” Lady Catherine said carelessly.

“I have never seen my sister’s capability be called into question, Your Grace. However, I'm sure when your daughter feels better, she will be willing to play alongside Mary for us all to hear,” Elizabeth said serenely, copying Mary’s no-shits-given attitude.

To Lady Catherine it sounded like: I call your bluff, bitch.

“How astounding to be so proud of such little capability! My daughter has learnt from renowned music teachers, what governess has taught you and your sisters, may I ask?” She said. She already knew the answers but she was attempting to find a weak point in Elizabeth. Mary hid a smirk into her teacup.

“Mary was taught the basics, but after that, she has been self taught. Her love for music has gotten her this far, and it would be in poor form to not show encouragement for the amount of effort and growth she has shown in this regard. Lady Catherine is renowned for her love of music, so I hope Your Grace will show Mrs Collins the appropriate respect as is her due,” Elizabeth replied.

“And your governess?” Lady Catherine asked, the slightest hint of a scowl on her face.

“As Your Ladyship is well aware, we do not have a governess. Regardless, I am confident that Mary will not disappoint. She is a well chosen companion for Mr Collins,” she smiled at both her sister and her new brother-in-law. Lady Catherine hurrumped.

“Ill-mannered, like your mother,” she said, before sipping her tea.

“My mother does enjoy bothering people, Lady Catherine. She will be delighted to know that she has left such a deep impression on Your Ladyship,” Elizabeth replied back. Lady Catherine tried not to scowl, obviously still affected by the argument between mother and her, and Mary was trying not to laugh into her teacup.

Finally, Lady Catherine dropped pretenses and ordered Elizabeth to the piano. Mary came by and winked, before backseat playing by telling her she was playing the wrong keys.

She knew, all right? But she had never played a piano! She had a decent ear for piano music, what with hearing a constant loop of the finest the world had to offer, but god, give a girl a full five minutes before you expect her to be a prodigy.

That wasn’t to say she was completely oblivious about piano music either. She knew the first movement of Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata, even on the piano, but considering the time and place, she wasn't about to break into Beethoven and shock people.

Even so, Elizabeth had learnt some piano and had a little bit of practice. Enough so she could play at a decent enough pace, even if she fumbled with the keys. Thankfully, it was all that was needed before Lady Catherine claimed she had a headache and Mary took her place to smoothly play a piece.

Mary, unsurprisingly, seemed to have improved. No matter what Lady Catherine said, she knew talent when she saw it, and she had offered Mary a few pieces of music, and Mary spent all her time playing it until she became good at it. The pieces she used to play was not nearly as good as the ones she received from Last Catherine. Those were the kind of common, easy to get pieces. However, these ones were actually the good ones. She even recognised a few pieces.

Heck, she recognised Beethoven!!!

Huh.

She shuddered at the chill that climbed down her spine. It was creepy listening to Beethoven when he was actually alive and still composing his music. Interesting, but still creepy as heck.

Still, it told her that Lady Catherine just bluffed a lot. She actually liked Mary, which made sense why Mary was so relaxed. Mary knew that Lady Catherine liked her. It's only her husband who took Lady Catherine at her word.

It was genuinely mind boggling.

Charlotte was struggling with Lady Catherine though, unable to keep up with the Lady's sharp remarks about her brothers without offending anyone. Elizabeth to the rescue!

Dinner at Rosings was surprisingly more fun than she had expected. She had gone in expecting nuclear warfare, but had come out with a new appreciation for Mary. Charlotte seemed like the dinner had taken away all her energy instead of giving her any, and Mary kept trying not to smirk at Elizabeth.

She had not a single idea that her younger sister was so mischievous. Elizabeth hadn't even known Lady Catherine could actually like someone, let alone, Mary!! What an unexpected surprise.

That night, Mary actually told them the true line of events. The way she had almost started crying to her mother and her mother had confronted Lady Catherine. The tiff ending when Lady Catherine had reluctantly sent off her extra piano since Mary kept coming by to play it, as Lady Catherine had told her the first night.

Then, she had offered a piece for Mary to play the next evening. With mother present, Mary had done excellently, and then mother had left, concerned but reassured by Mary that she would handle it. And handle it, she had.

She had won over Lady Catherine with her music. She didn't just play church music like she used to, but she played actual pieces by musicians. Mary was well on her way to being accomplished in the art of music, thanks to Last Catherine.

So, actually, Mary was quite grateful to Lady Catherine. However, the Lady was not someone who liked being thanked. If Mary wanted to do something for her, she needed to entertain her. Enter Elizabeth Bennet.

Elizabeth was almost in awe of Mary’s scheming. She might have been the one to ask to visit, but she had never expected that Mary had invited her for her own purpose. She laughed aloud, practically rolling around in delight at the way she had been had, while Charlotte simply shook her head in bemusement.

At least, Charlotte confessed that she was glad she didn't have to deal with Lady Catherine like Mary did. Which sent her into another round of laughter.

Finally, late at night, Mary sneaked away from their room back to her and her husband's room.

Chapter Text

It was on yet another one of their visit to Rosings that what she had been hoping for (only a little) happened. 

They ran into Mr Darcy and Mr Fitzwilliam. It was almost adorable, the way he froze at the sight of her. She wanted to mischievously pinch his nose a little, for some reason.

Fortunately, it was Lady Catherine who broke the impromptu starting contest, by exclaiming, “Have you met my nephew?”

They redirected to look at her and she was boring a hole into Mary.

“Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley were in Hertfordshire for a short duration. Mr Bingley is currently engaged to my eldest sister,” Mary explained.

Lady Catherine did not seem pleased by this.

“Miss Bennet, perhaps you can play this evening,” Lady Catherine said, and Elizabeth silently sighed to herself. It was a punishment for the two of them for keeping the fact from her. 

Mary still winced at every mistake Elizabeth made, and had to hold a conversation with Lady Catherine in spite of her desire to correct Elizabeth instead. The less said about Elizabeth’s state of mind, the better. 

Her tragic piano skills displayed in front of all of them…yet again. There was a reason why she enjoyed singing, or even dueting rather than playing solo. Well, she couldn't really break into a 21 century pop songs for this crowd either, so…

They all suffered through her terrible piano skills and Lady Catherine looked a tad satisfied as she watched Mary pause or wince at every mistake.

“Mr Darcy. It's good to see you again,” she greeted, trying not to get away from the tune of the song. She would have rather had stickers on the keys marking all the notes. Those were very helpful in learning how to play. This!! This was bullshit, all right? She wasn't that good in the first place!

“You as well, Miss Elizabeth,” he greeted her back, practically looming over her and she almost couldn't help but smile. Thankfully she controlled herself to a twitch. Mary winced obviously at her mistake again.

“Sir, your continued presence by the piano is only going to cause my sister to burst into tears. It seems that Lady Catherine has found us an appropriately horrid punishment,” she replied back. He blinked surprised.

“Is my presence causing a hindrance, Miss Elizabeth? I was merely intending to appreciate your skills,” he said, sounding oddly sincere. Elizabeth had to stop to put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“Oh dear, it seems like Mr Darcy needs to hear someone with far better skills than mine. How about it, Mary?” She called out. Mary hurried to her, gladly taking her place. 

She sat back on the couch, and Mr Darcy followed her back, but before she could tease him about it, his companion called her attention.

“Miss Bennet, I was just asking Miss Lucas how your acquaintanceship with my friend here was. She has just told me that you were more acquainted with him than she herself was,” Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam said cheerfully. 

“It was because of Mr Bingley’s continued infatuation with my sister. The two of them were often invited together and I was the unfortunate chaperone for the two,” she sighed. The colonel’s eyes twinkled.

“Unfortunate? How so?” He asked. 

“Well, for one, Mr Darcy enjoyed sitting terribly silently for long durations. For another, my sister and Mr Bingley were incredibly lovesick. I must have gone through no less than five books during my time as their chaperone,” Elizabeth returned with humor. 

“It must have been a terrible ordeal, Miss Bennet. I must admit to not being surprised however,” he looked at Darcy, before smiling at the two females.

“Nor was I,” Elizabeth replied, almost grinning at the look on Darcy's face. “However he did manage to make up for it by behaving much better at the next ball.”

“Do tell,” he asked conspiratorially. 

“Well, he did ask a young woman not of his previously known acquaintances to a dance,” she told the Colonel, but she was grinning up at Mr Darcy, “but I was disappointed to note that he did leave the ball rather early.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed, patting Mr Darcy on the shoulder, before going to save Charlotte from her conversation with Lady Catherine.

“Was dancing twice enough to make up for leaving the ball early?” Mr Darcy asked, almost cautiously.

“Well, I do encourage dancing as a way to get acquainted better. However, I must admit that a conversation would have been quite preferable as well,” she smiled at him. He hesitated.

“I must admit that I was not planning to hear my sister brought up so abruptly. I apologise for leaving on such a note. I am aware from your conversation with Bingley that you dislike it,” he confessed. She blinked at him, surprised. 

“It should be me who apologises, Mr Darcy. I should not have brought up such a topic in the first place. I belatedly realized that it must have been uncomfortable for you to have someone guess at something you wished to keep hidden. I also wish to thank you. Mr Lucas made me aware of your role in making sure that man was sent away,” she tilted her head a little and smiled abashedly.

“No-” Mr Darcy shook his head, “but thank you. I only did what I felt I had to.” He ducked his head before looking up with a small smile.

Sweet baby Jesus, let me have your kids, was what went through her head as she flatlined.

Well, she managed to choke something out at him hoping she wasn't as red as she thought she might be. Fortunately, no one but Mr Darcy looked at her as she turned her attention towards Mary’s focused playing.

It was almost embarrassing how much she ended up talking to Darcy that evening. She had to stop herself from laughing aloud multiple times, and she had to tell herself to talk to Mary to not seem too flustered. She had no idea how people managed to like someone and not sound like a four year old with a crush.

She didn't know the last time she had liked someone, but she was honestly tempted to go hit herself over the head. She planned to play it cool, so why was she getting flustered every two seconds? Specially when his godforsaken aunt was right there. 

Somehow, when the entire thing ended, she felt like she had just made it through a war. Her sigh of relief was so obvious that even Charlotte turned to her, as dead as she was after every evening at Rosings.

“And what happened to you?” She asked, haughtily, as if she was the only one allowed to be tired.

“Ugh,” she made an incoherent sound as she leaned her head on the side of the carriage. It felt like, even though she had practically come to Hunsford to talk to him, him actually being here had flustered her too much. She hadn't been expecting him at all.

And who even chased a guy anymore? Honestly!!

But in the book, they had met accidentally, so it wasn't exactly her fault… Triple ugh!!! for this dilemma.

After beating herself up for a while, she calmed down. Mary was quietly talking to Collins and even Charlotte seemed to be in her dream world. 

“I noticed you talked a lot to Colonel Fitzwilliam. Did you like him?” Elizabeth asked abruptly. Charlotte let out a startled yelp, almost jumping before she turned red at Elizabeth’s question.

“So you do like him?” She asked, startled at the revelation. Charlotte smiled sheepishly.

“He is really good at talking and he was trying to deflect Lady Catherine’s questions whenever she was pushing at me after you left me for Mr Darcy,” Charlotte accused. Elizabeth colored a little before playing it off.

“And so? How did it go? Did he seem to like you?” Elizabeth asked curiously. She didn't remember much about the Colonel but from what she had heard that very evening, he was the son of an Earl. That was enough to settle down with quite well. Was there any other problem with the man?

“He did seem to be,” Charlotte smiled at her and Elizabeth reassuringly squeezed her hand.

“It's all right, Charlotte,” Elizabeth patted her hand. “We'll figure it out.”

Or so she hoped.

To her pleasant surprise, on her regular walk around the nearby park, she came across Mr Darcy yet again. He looked a little nervous, but when he looked up and saw her, his eyes lit up.

She had to bite her lip to stop from smiling at him like he was a cute puppy. She knew he would know and then she would be embarrassed again.

“Mr Darcy,” she greeted.

“Miss Bennet,” he bowed back.

“What brings you out to the sunlight and morning dew of this park? Do you perhaps have the devious desire to go for a walk?” She suggested, with a grin.

“It is a most grievous desire indeed,” he said solemnly, but she could see the humor in his eyes.

“Should we defy your aunt together and go on a lovely, long walk then?” She asked, and Darcy smiled at her.

Ughhhhhhhhh!!!

“We most certainly may. Thank you for the invitation, Miss Elizabeth,” he said and the two of them walked side by side quietly. They walked for a while, taking a turn and avoiding the secluded paths as they went on.

“If you have something you wish to say, you may say it,” Elizabeth finally interrupted their silence. While she had enjoyed silence with the man, this time, it was clear that he wanted to say something. He stopped and she turned to face him.

“Thank you for your advice with Georgiana. She does seem to feel better, and she has constantly reassured me so as well,” he said.

“I don't think I said anything special. I can't imagine you not having said such things before. I know how much you love your sister. More than anything, I hope that she feels better,” she replied sincerely, restraining from the urge to put a reassuring hand on his forearm.

Mr Darcy bowed his head in acceptance of that sentiment and they continued walking.

“Oh, by the way, I was wondering if your friend, Colonel Fitzwilliam, by chance liked my friend, Miss Lucas. They looked quite close last evening,” she brought up sneakily. Darcy froze a little.

“I have not spoken to him about such things,” he said. Then he cleared his throat, “However, he has been rather open about his desire to marry for money. So I must apologize on his behalf for any false impression he must have given your friend. He has always been at ease when talking, and it wouldn't be the first time such misunderstandings arose,” Mr Darcy clarified, looking carefully at Elizabeth as he did.

Elizabeth tried to hide her disappointment behind a smile and humor.

“Did I not hear Lady Catherine regale us with stories of Lord and Lady Matlock? Is there a reason why he wishes to marry a lady with money?” Elizabeth asked.

There was a brief flicker of discomfort on his face, and Elizabeth once again had to restrain herself from placing a hand on his. “It is of no matter. I don't wish to talk about private affairs, if that is what they are.”

Mr Darcy inclined his head in both gratitude and acknowledgement.

They continued walking.

“Charlotte has always wished to marry for companionship,” she started after some time. “But in the countryside,” she shrugged unable to finish it.

“It seems so distant that I myself used to regale my sister for my desires of marriage,” she said, smiling at remembering Jane and how they used to giggle and laugh every night while getting ready for bed.

“And what do you wish for, Miss Elizabeth?” He asked, his eyes on some random bush instead of her.

“Well,” she heaved a dramatic sigh which made him look at her, and she smiled at him, “I've always wanted to marry for love. To be honest, I thought it would be better to become a spinster than to end up in a loveless marriage. But I understand how difficult that would be,” her smile took a wry edge as she looked at the nature around her.

It was so much better than in her time. It was one of the reasons why she enjoyed continuing Elizabeth’s hobby.

“Who would marry someone who doesn't even have a proper dowry?” She shrugged, trying to seem uncaring. There was a reason she had started thinking about following Mr and Mrs Gardiner after all. “To be perfectly honest, I'm actually quite satisfied after seeing Jane and Bingley marry for love. She was convinced that it was impossible,” Elizabeth laughed to herself, scratching her cheek sheepishly for going on about herself when she was talking to the guy she actually liked.

She turned to see what kind of response the man would have, only to realize he had stopped walking. She turned around to face him, and the man was looking at her with eyes the colour of a storm, but somehow brighter than the blue sky.

“Mr Darcy?” She asked.

“I-” he started, only to be interrupted. (-would)

“Lizzy! Lizzy!” Charlotte called out, stopping abruptly when she saw the two of them together. “There you are,” she said cautiously, before bowing to Mr Darcy. “Mr Darcy.”

“I should be going,” he said quickly before turning and walking away at a much faster pace.

“Huh, I wonder what happened,” Charlotte said, then she shook her head. “Lizzy, why are you out here? Did I not remind you that it would rain in the next few days? You should not walk too far, or it would be difficult to return at an appropriate time. And goodness, why was Mr Darcy here with you?” she fussed a little before settling down.

“We were just walking together,” she reassured Charlotte. “I asked him if his friend seemed interested in you and he said he wasn't quite sure, but that he wished to marry for money.”

Charlotte tried to hide her disappointment, but couldn't do it quickly enough. She sighed in disappointment.

“I am not even surprised anymore, Eliza,” she said. “Marry for money,” she repeated, then she shook her head again. “Forget this, we should go back.”

The two of them hurried back to help Mary. The three of them baked bread to prepare for the next day, a small village market where they exchanged an excess of some products. It started in the early morning and lasted well upto mid afternoon.

They would share the excess bread for free, even if they could not exchange for it. It was never a bad thing to build goodwill, after all. Mary made bread often for church as well.

The next day they were all in their element. They had all been used to Meryton’s markets and in many ways this was similar. Just, no one was selling live cattle here at least.

They all separated and Elizabeth ended up getting some pork slices for her share. It was when she was returning that she saw Charlotte…talking to Colonel Fitzwilliam?

She was slightly more reserved as she spoke to him, a piece of bread was already in the Colonel’s hand, and they were speaking. Elizabeth was too far to eavesdrop, but she could see the way Charlotte was blushing, and remembering Darcy’s words, she was tempted to interrupt the two.

Before long, however, Charlotte caught sight of Elizabeth and froze. Then she separated politely from the Colonel and went to her. Elizabeth just raised her brow at her silently.

“It was nothing, he was just asking what I was doing. I gave him my bread,” Charlotte tried to look a little casual about it, but Elizabeth could still see her blushing.

“Maybe next time you should ask his intentions, Charlotte,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. Charlotte bit her lip, before smiling shortly.

“I think…Mr Darcy is right,” Charlotte said, “however, it doesn't mean I wish to snub the Colonel.”

“Of course, Charlotte,” she bumped her shoulder to hers. “Just remember what I said.”

Charlotte smiled back.

“Oh, I think I see Mary!” She said, pulling Elizabeth with her, with their arms tucked together, and baskets in the other.

Chapter Text

She was surprised to see that Mr Darcy joined her often on her walks. They spent some of the time in silence, but even more time was spent actually talking. 

She had read all the books in her father's library and she would sometimes bring them up. It was always hilarious how bamboozled (and impressed) he looked whenever she brought up something she should not know much about. 

She would admit that governing or estate management wasn't her area of expertise, but she had learnt her high school physics quite well. She didn't take advantage of it just yet, but patents were a thing and she knew how to create a light bulb.

It didn't change the fact that she was a woman though, and she hardly cared about inventions that would be made centuries in the future.

High school physics aside (which elected hilarious reactions from Darcy), she did enjoy talking about Greek and Roman mythology as well. There were some versions of stories that were lost to time, and it was fun to read them again.

She was also aware of the recently published Grimm tales which had later become famous as children's fairy tales. It had become quite popular and she told Darcy about them when he told her that he had not read them.

Knowledge from the 21st century for the win!

It was so curious.

There were many interesting things going on. Life was always happening around you, whether you wanted it to, or not.

There were still so many remnants from two centuries ago, and she could only appreciate this after she was thrown out of time.

That said, she did like the fact that he never looked like he was indulging her whimsical fantasies even if she accidentally said something a little ridiculous. In fact, he seemed more curious than anything, even if he never quite did ask.

She was pleased to note that Mr Darcy was someone who could handle a little bit of modern eccentricity, and she liked that he could.

And she also liked that he was able to relax a lot more in her presence. Watching him visibly unwind made her feel ridiculously accomplished.

He walked around looking like he was dissatisfied with the world and yet, she had managed to make him smile. More than once even. And it wasn't even while he was at Pemberly!

Even if this dating thing didn't work out, she was making solid progress in making a great friend.

But it was rather bothersome too, because after Mary heard that Mr Darcy joined her on her walks, she had taken to joining them as well. Or at least, keeping a very strict eye on the poor man while telling them not to go too far. 

She insisted on Charlotte joining them when she couldn't and it was starting to feel more like chaperoned dates instead of…walks.

But somehow, neither of the two protested (what was there to protest?) and neither did the man stop visiting her during her walks (thankfully). She would have been crushed to have been rejected like that, if he had.

Honestly, she was actually beginning to feel like he did like her. These were not the actions of a man who merely thought of her as a good acquaintance.

However, simply suspecting it did not make it easy for her to actually ask it. It wasn't like she had never asked people out of her own volition before. She had.

But it felt nerve racking to think of doing it now. With him.

And what was even worse was that she kept wanting to touch him. She wanted to touch his arm to comfort him, to pinch his cute ears or tease him by pinching his nose until it reddened. She wanted to wind her arm along with his and walk down the road and wanted to lean her head on his shoulder. 

She had never realised how much physical affection she had taken for granted until she was simply not allowed. It would be infuriating if it wasn't so frustrating. 

Still, she did enjoy her conversations with him, more and more as he unwinded and started to say what was actually on his mind. She had heard his long winded explanations even, and every time he ended it, he seemed flustered by her attention on him.

It was cute.

He looked like he liked her. 

He definitely liked her. 

Finally, one day, it was both Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam who were waiting for Elizabeth and Charlotte, and she couldn't help feel nervous about the look the Colonel shot Mr Darcy as she approached the man. 

Mr Darcy didn't look any different however, and while she shot a suspicious look at the Colonel, it didn't take long before she left them behind. The two of them didn't talk in the beginning, content to walk silently through the familiar path.

She couldn't help sneak glances, however, and smiled to herself thinking about how he was determined to look forward instead of at her. As if tired of her gazing at him, Mr Darcy glanced at her, and she had to make herself look away, still trying to fight off the indulgent smile (dubbed by Mr Darcy as the smile Georgiana had when looking at a cute animal!!).

“I find myself surprised that you still enjoy thinking about animals when you spent all of yesterday regaling me of your hunting achievements. Particularly a rabbit incident that you mentioned,” Mr Darcy said. 

“Mr Darcy,” she gasped with humor, “are you taking advantage of the fact that I confided in you? Besides, the owners would collaborate with me that I never hurt their rabbits.”

“Would that not have something to do with the fact you replaced them?” He replied, the edge of his lips quirked up as she gave him an offended look.

“My my, sir. You have such a poor opinion of me. I have never been near those poor rabbits!”

“Because you shot them from a distance and your sister carried them back home to cook them,” he retorted.

“I have not spoken a single lie,” she grinned, and his smile grew wider.

After a while, when they were completely out of sight, Mr Darcy stopped walking. He looked at Elizabeth and just stopped, for long moments. His hands fidgeted nervously, and she waited patiently.

“What do you wish to say to me?” She asked finally, when she could almost see him catastrophizing. His eyes focused on her.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “Since the moment you spoke to me at the ball, you captured my attention.” He shook his head, as if he wanted to say something else.

“I have never spoken to someone with as much ease as I have this past week with you. I am aware that-”

Elizabeth was blue screening.

She was screaming very very loudly inside her head.

Was he…asking for her hand in marriage?

Was he proposing??

But!

But!!!

They hadn't even-

Hadn't even what? Kissed? Gone on dates? Had sex?? None of that was allowed without a marriage.

She wanted to scream a little.

“-you believe that both fortune and pride can prove to be a hindrance, but I hope that you will give the desire you hope for a chance.”

“What-” she gasped out a little faintly.

And Mr Darcy walked forward and captured her hand. The touch of warmth on her cold fingertips brought her back to the present. The man enveloped her cold fingers in his warmth and he looked at her with his light blue eyes that melted the shock of it from her.

“You like me?” She said, blinking up at the man.

“I love you,” he replied back, his eyes gooey-warm, and vulnerable. “Miss Elizabeth, I wish for you to accept my hand in marriage.”

Her fingers twitched in his grasp, curling closer to his. She stared wide eyed at the man proposing to her.

“You have bewitched me…body and soul,” the man said, somehow his words were even softer and it tickled her heart and ears both. “I never wish to be parted from you from this day forward.”

They were close.

Ridiculously close.

Then the words registered and she pulled away, yanking out of his grasp to the point she almost fell over.

“Miss Elizabeth!” He called out in surprise as she almost stumbled over a rock and fell.

“Um, one moment,” she called out. Then she curled up a little.

Why was he saying his final confession lines??? What did she do??!!? Does this meant if she rejected him he wouldn't confess to her again??!! Why would she even reject him?? She liked him!!!!

Her mind was utterly incoherent as she tried to cobble together some sense. She took deep breaths, counting out her inhale and exhale.

Okay.

From the top.

Mr Darcy has proposed to her.

Why was she panicking?

Well, modern her was going: we haven’t even gone on dates! We barely know if we actually like each other!!

Regency era her was going: say yes! say yes! I already like him back and I'm not confused about it!

She made an incoherent sound to herself.

“Miss Elizabeth?” He called out, sounding very very confused about what she was doing.

“One moment more,” she told him, muffled through her palm.

So, she liked him. She should just say yes, right? She wasn't like original Elizabeth, who used to hate the man. She liked him from the beginning. She just hadn't actually known him.

What if she couldn't live with him? What if she didn't like his snoring?? No wait, she snored a little too. What if he didn't like her snoring??

Then she slapped herself.

Elizabeth Bennet, you get your shit together, girl.

There's a man waiting for her answer. A very important answer.

She took a deep breath and stood up. She could do this. She turned around to face him. She could do this.

However when she opened her mouth, instead of saying ‘yes’ what spoiled out was:

“I snore in my sleep,” she put her hand on her face and turned around again. “Never mind, put me out of my misery and kill me, please.”

“I would rather not,” the man said, and she could hear the smile in his voice as he did.

“I also a terrible cook. I've only cooked like, instant noodles,” she said, then she wanted wanted to slap herself. She was in Regency era. No one knew how to cook!

“That's all right. We have cooks in every house,” he told her, taking a step closer to her. She could feel the heat off of him already.

“Um. I'm terrible at playing the piano, and I enjoy hugs, and books, and I dislike mathematics, and- and-”

Mr Darcy turned her around, and she looked to the side, face completely tomato red.

“I wouldn't mind being married to you,” she whispered finally. She finally looked up at him and and-

Yeah.

He’s pretty.

He was smiling, wide and beautiful. His pupils were so wide, like it would swallow the view of her whole.

She remembered something about how a pupil could go up to three times its size when you were looking at someone you loved.

“I love you,” she blurted out.

And she did.

It took positively centuries for them to continue walking. The two of them were completely silent. However both of them were smiling.

When they returned, flushed and pink cheeked, the Colonel stood up abruptly. Charlotte looked up, confused.

“Lizzy! Whatever is the matter?” She fussed a little. “Are you cold? Did Mr Darcy do something?” 

“Charlotte,” she caught her hands and squeezed, “Charlotte, we're engaged.”

“Engaged?” She asked, confused. Then, her eyes widened. “Lizzy? You're engaged to Mr Darcy?”

Elizabeth nodded.

“Oh dear! I knew I should have walked along with you. How could I let the two of you be unchaperoned?” Charlotte asked herself. “Mary! We need to tell Mary!”

Elizabeth opened her mouth before shutting it close, reality asserting herself.

“I need to write a letter to my father,” she turned to Mr Darcy. They were at Rosings, with at least one vengeful aunt in reach.

“I will ride out to Longbourne. Perhaps you can give me your letter and I shall give it to him,” Mr Darcy said, and for a moment the two of them looked at each other and smiled ridiculously.

“All right!” Colonel Fitzwilliam clapped Mr Darcy’s back. “We should tell your aunt before you leave. I will go visit my mother and father as well, so I don't have to deal with our dear aunt either.”

“Poor Mary,” whispered Charlotte, shaking her head. Colonel Fitzwilliam smiled humorously.

“It comes with the territory,” he grinned at her.

“I don't think it's avoidable for me either,” Elizabeth shook her head, remembering the linchpin that brought about the final confession.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” Mr Darcy asked.

“No, there is no need for that. I can handle your aunt,” she smiled fondly at him. “It would be more urgent to tell my father the news instead. And Jane. And Bingley.”

“I would like you to meet my sister as well,” he said, his eyes gooey-warm warm in the way that melted her completely.

“Okay,” she nodded, smiling.

They stared at each other for another moment.

“I finally understand why you were so adamant about not chaperoning your sister and her fiance, Miss Elizabeth,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said, and she blinked a few times, before blushing.

“We should go back then,” then she smiled at Mr Darcy, half teasing, half flirty, “would you care to escort me, sir?” she said.

“Of course, Miss Elizabeth,” he agreed, but his blush gave him away.

He offered her his arm and (finally!!) she was allowed to hold onto it with no repercussions, while the Colonel and Charlotte lingered behind.

She didn't feel him up and felt proud of her restraint, but she smirked to herself as she watched his blush creepy up to his ears.

She mentally fist pumped.

She was gonna make every 21st century woman proud and flirt ridiculously with this silly man who barely had any idea what he had just agreed to.

Chapter Text

Mary looked shocked out of her mind at the news. Mr Collins spilled hot tea twice over himself and Charlotte looked like she hadn't stopped giggling, by the time Elizabeth wrote a quick letter for her father and handed it to Mr Darcy.

She couldn't help but enjoy the way Mr Darcy’s eyes snapped to her the moment she entered the room. Or the way he stood up for her. 

“We will have to return by carriage so it will take a few days before I reach,” she smiled. “Will I see you there then?”

“Yes,” he said, almost before she could get the question out. “I will wait for you.”

She tried not to smile harder. 

“We should be going now,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. The four of them bowed and the two left, with Mr Darcy practically being ushered out.

“I had no idea you liked Mr Darcy!” Mary exclaimed the moment the door closed. 

“Charlotte did,” she gestured to her friend. Charlotte tried not to laugh. 

“Don't you dare turn on me, Lizzy. You were the one who couldn't stop thinking about him!” Charlotte said. 

“Charlotte!” Elizabeth exclaimed, mock-offended. Mr Collins was standing statue-still while staring at the door in utter shock as the three ladies went back to the living room to talk. 

“I must apologize, Mary. You might have to tolerate Lady Catherine’s temper after we leave,” Elizabeth squeezed Mary’s hand. Mary shook her head.

“It is all right. She cannot go a week without asking for me. I do not believe we will be at odds for two long. However, I won't pretend it will not be unpleasant,” Mary admitted, but she still did not look too bothered. 

“Marriage becomes you, Mary,” Elizabeth admitted. 

“It must have something to do with not having two sisters running underfoot and not dealing with mother’s constant screaming,” Mary admitted. “However, I have to admit that having a husband is also a rather enjoyable experience.”

“Well, I should hope Jane and I get to greet marriage with as much joy as you have,” Elizabeth said. Mary laughed, before her eyes turned to Charlotte.

“Is something the matter?” She asked, concerned. Charlotte looked up suddenly, plastering a fake smile on her lips. 

“Oh no, nothing. I was just feeling happy for you, Elizabeth,” she said. Elizabeth took hold of her arm, before standing up to hug her. 

“I understand, Charlotte. You don't have to hide it. I won't take it the wrong way,” she assured her, rubbing her back. Charlotte clutched back. 

“I’m sorry. I know this is a happy day for you, Lizzy. I just…I just wish such joy was bestowed upon me as well. I never wished for love, however, I am getting older now and I wish to have a companion to share a marriage with. Elizabeth, you do not know how difficult it is for me,” she said before pulling away, and attempting to wipe her eyes. 

Elizabeth sighed. 

She still believed that Mary was a much better match for Mr Collins. However, she also felt bad knowing that she was the reason why Charlotte was alone.

“Perhaps, London might offer some insight. The season would be brimming with balls, whereupon you could meet someone. It may not have to even be a ball where you meet the one you end up spending your life with,” Mary reassured her.

Charlotte cleared her throat, and wiped her eyes, smiling bleakly at the two sisters.

“Enough about my self-pity. While I should still hope to find someone, I must keep looking. And I truly am happy for you, Elizabeth. I hoped at the Netherfield Ball that the two of you might be mutually interested. I mean, every mama in the ball knew that you were the only woman he danced twice with,” Charlotte laughed. Elizabeth smiled at the memory.

“Yes, the first dance was offered as recompense by Mr Bingley, and the second, I asked myself. Rather cheekily, I might add,”, she laughed at the twin looks of surprise. “I was rather shocked when he agreed to it.”

“Perhaps he liked your forward nature, Elizabeth,” Charlotte said consideringly.

“I do not believe I would have behaved in such a manner if I did not like him myself. And I doubt anyone else could have accepted me as I am. No doubt another man would have certainly been put off by the way I talk and tease or even walk,” then she shook the thought out of her head. “I know that I am rather lucky to have someone who loves me for who I am.”

It felt like sense was finally reinstating itself in her mind. When he had proposed to her, she had felt like all logic had left the premises and she had to deal with only a fumble of emotions. She still remembered how completely enchanted she had been at the moment. She had even confessed to him and had not even doubted her feelings for a single second. 

Even now, she found it difficult to doubt what she felt for him was not love. How could it not be, when she felt so accepted and embraced?

She loved his humor and his desire to not insult his friends. She loved that he cared and that he indulged her and his sister so completely. She wanted to know more about him until a single glance at him could unveil his thoughts completely. 

She wanted to know and be known in turn.

Unknowingly, she had begun to smile at the thought of a future by his side. 

“Elizabeth!” Charlotte shook her and she had to blink furiously to get herself back in the present. 

“My apologises, I was so lost in thought I did not even realise-”

Mary’s snort interrupted her. 

“We all know what you were distracted by, Lizzy. You just got engaged,” she continued. “However, it would be best if we called for a carriage sooner to take you to Longbourne.”

Elizabeth shook her head. 

“No. I believe Lady Catherine will come for me, and while she will be angry at my impudence, I do not wish to turn that anger onto you. I will face her whenever she wishes to speak to me and it will be easier if I stay here for the next day or so. It shouldn't take much longer,” she assured Mary.

“I will never know why you wish to face the Lady when she is angry with you, Elizabeth,” Charlotte shuddered at the thought. “She seems frightening enough already.”

“She is Mr Darcy’s aunt,” Elizabeth gave as an excuse. It was partially true. She wanted to see if it was a salvageable relationship.

It took a little longer than she had expected. Perhaps Mr Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam attempted to give her time to reconsider her decision to stay. Lady Catherine arrived in the evening and a single look from her cleared the room of everyone but Elizabeth.

Her sheer anger was practically radiating from her deceptively-frail form.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” she started, and the venom in her words could not be doubted. “I could not believe when I was informed what had transpired in the early morning of the day. Just before Colonel Fitzwilliam hastily left, he gave me the letter written by my nephew which stated in no uncertain words that you were to marry my nephew!”

“That's correct, madam,” Elizabeth said. “Would you like some tea while we talk, Your Grace?”

“Do not change the subject! Tell me it is a lie and you have not seduced my nephew away from far better prospects than a country girl from nowhere! You have no dowry, no governess, and your family is completely unacceptable in all regards! Do you dare to admit to your failings?”

“Lady Catherine, I love Mr Darcy,” she said frankly. “Even if the reverse were true and he had not a penny to his name, I would still love him for everything that he is. I care not about his fortune or the circumstances of our marriage. We have simply decided that come what may, we must have the other in our lives. It has nothing to do with my family or want of connections.”

“Lies!” Lady Catherine said, hand banging down on the newly furnished table. “Since you met my nephew, I could see you going after him like the fortune hunter you are! You do not love my nephew, you simply want him for his money!”

Elizabeth’s lips twitched. 

“Lady Catherine,” she said, eyes narrowing a little, “I heard that you wished to get a hold of Pemberly by making sure your sickly daughter was married to Mr Darcy. Do you deny it?”

“Watch your mouth! I am on my last nerve with you. My daughter has a better peerage, reputation and circumstances than you ever will have! How dare you compare the two of you?” She hurled back.

“If you know Mr Darcy at all, you know why he has never agreed to marry your daughter. No matter her peerage, do you believe she could ever make him happy? Is it not his happiness in marriage that you wish for?”

“She would bring him the respect he deserves. He will own Rosings! What could be be unhappy about?!” She threw her arms out. Rosings was gorgeous, yes. It was huge and it was obvious that it would bring a lot of wealth to the person who married Anne. However-

“She is still sick, Your Grace. Has he not lost enough of his family already?” She said, almost kindly, knowing that it would hit her the hardest.

True to form, Lady Catherine was struck silent. It was something that she had clearly struggled with as well. As a sickly woman, it would be next to impossible for her to give birth to a healthy child and survive at the same time.

She clutched at her heart, and for one terrifying moment, Elizabeth thought Lady Catherine was about to have a heart attack.

“Your daughter is unsuitable as the next Mrs Darcy. And Mr Darcy has already chosen me. He loves me, just as I love him. I don't wish to be parted, regardless of the circumstances. That is why, I wanted to gain your blessings as well. You are his aunt, one of the few reminders of his parents. So, I hope that Your Grace can do me the honor of accepting me as Mr Darcy’s future wife,” she bowed her head to the silent Lady.

There was a long moment of silence.

“You-” Lady Catherine started, and then abruptly cut off. Elizabeth looked up at the Lady. Lady Catherine looked completely closed off. Her inexpressiveness could give Mr Darcy a run for his money.

She shook her head.

“Do what you will,” she said, before storming out.

After she left the house, Elizabeth met three pairs of stunned, wide eyes with a smirk on her lips.

They got one more invitation to Rosings for two days later, which specifically invited Elizabeth, and so they decided to delay their departure yet again.

Lady Catherine was practically chilly when they arrived and when they were having dinner she looked at Elizabeth’s table manners with the finest of scopes. Even her angle of holding the cutlery was criticised.

Lady Catherine spent the entire time grilling Elizabeth about her knowledge and seemed dissatisfied by her subpar knowledge, even if her knowledge of literature and theatre seemed to impress her, even if only slightly.

She even made Elizabeth stand up and sing a few pieces for her, barely giving her a passing grade for it. Elizabeth would have been offended if she didn't know that even passing grades were difficult to obtain from the Lady.

To be honest, Elizabeth was clearly quite lacking in many aspects when compared to normal women of the time. Specially since Elizabeth never truly had any proper education aside from her father's books and the occasional oral knowledge passed on from other people. 

But she had a little more knowledge of music than Elizabeth did, and she knew a little more about some of the trends in London.

The most that Lady Catherine bemoaned over was her etiquette and manners, which were supposed to prevent her from speaking up all the times she had. Well, Lady Catherine was in for a harsh call if she thought she would.

Even after arriving in this world, she had never felt as restricted by mannerisms because she had always been in the countryside. She knew that London was a different beast altogether.

The societal norms were stricter there and Lady Catherine was attempting to remind her of the same thing. She would go to London, and whenever she did, she must be careful of how she interacted with strangers. She would not only have to resort to Elizabeth’s manners but tame even them.

It sounded suffocating already, but as long as she was beside people she knew…she would learn to be fine. It was also why she must have people on her side, as much as possible. Her faux paus must be easily dismissable, and her good character obvious to all.

While she wasn't very familiar with high society in London, she must also not be offensive to it. Not if she didn't want its ruthless claws turned against her.

Still, it was only a threat because she actually enjoyed dancing and socializing. If she just stayed in the countryside, people would be much more lax about mannerisms.

By the time Lady Catherine let them go, Elizabeth was dead on her feet. She was out the moment she hit the bed.

She took one day to rest, where they packed up and then they left for Longbourne.

-

She was welcomed back home with Jane rushing up to the arriving carriage with a harried look on her face, before it completely melted away at the sight of her.

“Elizabeth! You're back!” She exclaimed loudly, and suddenly, her sisters, mother and maids were rushing out of the house to greet her. Thankfully, she had left Charlotte at her home first, so she was allowed to take her things down and the carriage left. She was ushered back home with what felt like a hundred voices speaking simultaneously, before she loudly clapped her hands a few times.

“Mr Darcy proposed to me and I accepted his hand. Has he arrived yet?” She asked her mother.

“Arrived? Dear Lizzy, do you hear yourself? The man has expressed his intent to your father already!” Her mama said with a hand on her chest, clearly emotional. Jane took hold of her hand, trying to fight off a smile.

“I'm so happy for you, Lizzy,” she said, and the two hugged. Elizabeth squeezed Jane tightly before pulling away. “I knew you liked him!”

Elizabeth laughed at Jane’s words.

“I did! I was just trying to fool myself,” she shook her head. “Has father accepted yet?”

Jane shook her head.

“He said that while the letter was reassuring, you would arrive soon and he would accept the proposal only after he had spoken to you,” Jane smiled at her. “I have no doubt that he will accept him, Lizzy.”

“I should speak to him then!” Elizabeth said, walking towards the study quickly. “Papa?” She asked.

“Lizzy!” Her father said, standing up. He came over and hugged her in welcome. “I couldn't tell if it was you or another one of the wedding decorations.”

Elizabeth laughed.

“It seems that all of you have been rather busy,” she said.

“Yes, of course. Right after Mary got married, Jane was engaged, and to a far richer man! In fact Mr Bingley has been chipping in for the wedding preparations and your mother is determined to make it a grand one,” he shook his head.

“Papa, I know both you and mama would miss us, but we'll be very happy in our new homes. And just because we will be married doesn't mean that we will never come home nor host anyone,” she assured him. Her father sighed heavily, taking out the letter she had written and Mr Darcy had handed to him.

“So it was true,” he said, sounding heavy. “I had hoped that you would stay a little longer.” Elizabeth hugged her father again, staying there until she could hear the steady beating of his heart.

“I really like him. I love him. I want to marry him and make him happy. Papa, he makes me so happy,” she told him quietly. Her father read the sincerity in her eyes and sighed again. 

“All right. He's staying in Netherfield. He's been waiting for you for a few days already,” her father smoothed her hair lovingly. “Whatever will make you happy, my dear daughter. If it is him, then I could never deny you.”

Elizabeth grinned brightly at her father, kissing his cheeks.

“Thank you! I should go visit him then!” She told him, but barely moments before she could rush out, her sisters captured her.

“Don't you dare! I haven't been able to see Miss Bingley because of all this! If I have to wait, then so will you!” said Lydia rather viciously, as she held onto Elizabeth’s waist.

“Lydia?” She asked, startled.

“Jane sent an invitation already! And you just arrived. Instead of running off to Netherfield, you should make sure that you look your best and wait for them to arrive,” sniffed Lydia, before pulling away.

“You're right,” she said, fixing Lydia’s hair from the slight mess it was in. “I should clean up a little. It won't do to look dusty from the road after all.”

Elizabeth smiled to herself, and went to her room to freshen up, leaving Lydia to smile rather bitterly to herself.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth was properly cleaned and dressed when the Netherfield party arrived at their sitting room. She smiled when Mr Darcy’s eyes directly met hers as they greeted the room.

“It's been a while, Mr Darcy,” she said, and the man’s face lightened up.

“May I speak to Miss Elizabeth in private?” He asked, and her mother ushered everyone to the dining room, even if it was slightly early for dinner.

The moment the door closed, the two of them surged towards the other, meeting in the middle of the room. They were suddenly temptingly close.

“Mr Darcy, I would just like to remind you that the doors are very thin here,” she whispered to him, and Mr Darcy smiled at her.

“Miss Elizabeth,” he said, then he took a breath and tried again. “Elizabeth,” he said, and Elizabeth’s eyes widened in surprise, even as her cheeks pinkened, “I wish to give you a proposal gift. Will you accept it?” He asked.

“Yes, of course,” she said instantly, and Mr Darcy brought out a beautiful necklace, clearly antiquated and heavy, with crystalline jewels that looked, frankly, intimidating. She swallowed.

“What…what is this?” She asked, stunned. 

“A gift,” he said. “Or, at the very least, one of them. I wish to see you wear it on our wedding day,” he said, and his eyes fell to her bare neck. She swallowed again.

Well, that look she was familiar with.

“Are you sure it won't cut my neck right off? It looks rather heavy,” she joked through a dry mouth.

“It won't, my dear Elizabeth,” he said, as he raised a hand to cup her face. She peered up at him and could feel that it was a mistake the instant she made it. The way he was looking down at her made him look very very tempting. She glanced down at his lips.

There was a clatter at the door, and the two of them stepped away from each other abruptly, coughing.

“My father gave us permission to marry,” she said after a while, when no one came in and the quiet became a tad heavy.

“Yes,” Mr Darcy said, clearly his throat. “Yes, I'm very glad.”

The two of them looked at each other, smiling.

“And I'll accept your gift,” Elizabeth said, “no matter how burdensome on my neck it may be.”

Mr Darcy smiled at the humor.

“It was my grandmother’s favorite. I must have seen it on her in at least three different portraits,” he said and she instantly changed her tune.

“She must have been a woman of great taste. Like her grandson,” she said solemnly.

“Miss Bennet, you are a delight,” he said, shaking his head a little and smiling.

“I am also your future wife, my dear Fitzwilliam,” she said, huskily.

She had never seen a man go from amused to aroused so quickly. She watched with humor as he coughed, trying to cover the fact that her calling his first name had had an effect on him. His pinkened ears were rather difficult to cover, however.

“Miss Bennet,” he said in a stained voice, “Perhaps we can reconvene in the dining room with the others?”

“I should put away this gift first. Shall we meet after so we can enter together?” She said, and Mr Darcy nodded quickly.

She hid her smirk as she opened the door, to a surprisingly lack of people, and went up to her and Jane’s room to keep the jewelry. When she came downstairs, Mr Darcy was as put together as always and they entered the dining room together.

It was a cheerful dinner, Mr Hurst was eating, Mrs Hurst was engaged by mother, Jane and Mr Bingley were in their own world, and as were Lydia and Miss Bingley. When the two of them entered, they were ushered into seats beside each other.

Very well arranged, mama, she praised her mother silently, as they started eating.

The dinner was easy. She impressed her fiance by telling him how she won over Lady Catherine, and he told her that he had sent letters to his relatives about his upcoming nuptials.

Jane’s wedding was prepared to be arranged at Longbourne and Mr Bingley’s friends and family would be hosted at Netherfield Park.

They had not yet thought of the arrangements to be made for Elizabeth’s wedding yet, but there was still time for it. Jane would be married first and they would go on a quick honeymoon, before returning to stay at Netherfield Park to await Elizabeth’s wedding.

Mr Bingley had already arranged to buy Netherfield Park permanently, and by the date of their wedding, Mr Bingley would be of a gentleman status.

However, it was only days after Elizabeth and Darcy had publicized their engagement, that Mr Darcy confessed to needing to go back to Pemberly. He not only needed to attend to his duties and prepare for Elizabeth’s arrival, but he also wished to bring Georgiana back in time for Mr Bingley’s wedding.

So Elizabeth bid him goodbye before going back into arranging Jane’s wedding. Jane was getting married at the same church Mary had, and they would have a reception in front of Longbourne.

However, it only held superficial similarity to Mary’s wedding. The Bennet's with their means have found it difficult to even hold two grand weddings in a year, let alone three. So Mr Bingley had provided financial help for Jane’s wedding preparations, just as Mr Darcy would, for Elizabeth's.

Elizabeth had been in Hunsford when Jane had gone to London to get herself measured for a dress far more suitable for Mr Bingley’s stature, and only two weeks before the wedding, the two sisters and their mama had gone to collect it.

Jane had looked wonderful in the dress and the final fitting was done quickly, before they all returned. 

One week before the wedding, Mr Darcy returned to Hertfordshire with his sister and her companion, Mrs Annesley.

Unfortunately, they were so busy that Elizabeth could only spare moments to greet her future sister-in-law and her fiance, before she had to leave the two with great reluctance as her mother or sisters called for her.

But it was all worth it. 

Jane looked gorgeous on her wedding day. The pale gold of her dress and white lace in her hair went gorgeously together with her beautiful features shining with happiness and love. The bouquet in her hand was filled with flowers in shades of yellow and white to match her theme, and barely two minutes into the wedding, she and her parents were crying. Elizabeth couldn't help her tears, watching Bingley and Jane smile wide enough to tear their faces.

She couldn't help herself from peeking at her future husband and was pleased to find him looking at her as well.

The wedding concluded with their vows and then the reception. Jane was even busier than Mary had been during the reception, being introduced to what felt like everyone of Mr Bingley's acquaintance.

Elizabeth made use of the time to quietly search for Mr Darcy and his sister. She didn't have to look for long since she found her fiance looking right at her the moment she started looking for him, and she had to smile.

“Mr Darcy,” she greeted, “What a pleasant coincidence to meet you here.”

“Pleasant indeed, Miss Bennet,” he said, his eyes telling her that she truly was pleasant to look at. She blushed.

“How dare you bring your charms to my sister’s wedding? You mustn't steal the stage from her,” she narrowed her eyes in mock-scolding. Mr Darcy placed a hand on his chest with similar mock-sincerity.

“I will endeavour to leave it back at home next time,” he agreed solemnly. She bit her lip, trying not to laugh. A soft tinkling laughter distracted her and she looked behind Mr Darcy’s frame to see his sister, Georgiana.

“Hello, Georgiana. It's very nice to meet you. Your brother has been talking about you since the day he started speaking to me,” she said lightheartedly.

“Miss Elizabeth,” she bowed shyly, giggling at her greeting words, “My brother has also spoken a lot about you. I feel as if we are friends already.”

“That's a good thing, Miss Georgiana, since I have been hoping we would be,” she grinned at her. “Alas, you have to deal with the Bennet sister who is quite terrible at playing the piano. However, I'm sure we can find more common ground soon enough,” she said, winking at Mr Darcy.

However, instead of playing along Georgiana looked surprised.

“Terrible? But my brother said you play so well!” She exclaimed. Her said brother froze where he stood, and she had to stifle her laughter with her hand.

“I said, quite well, not very well,” Mr Darcy attempted to defend himself. 

“Quite well, not very well,” she agreed, almost crying from breathless laughter. “I will accept this edition.”

“Elizabeth,” Darcy said, his voice amused but also a tinge exasperated. She felt heat curl through her spine at the sound of him speaking her name without any honorifics. She broke out into coughs, before showing a modicum of decency by not laughing at his face. Of course, as long as you ignored the blush on her cheeks. 

“Mr Darcy, you are interrupting our fun. If we cannot even laugh at you, sir, what can we even do?” She asked cheekily.

“My sister and fiance both seem to possess a wide array of interests. I'm sure Miss Elizabeth will have no difficulty in finding a more suitable topic,” Mr Darcy said, and she had to restrain the urge to stick her tongue out at him. He seemed like the type who pinched the tongue if someone stuck it out at him. 

(Not that it was an actual deterrence though).

Regardless, this was about creating a good impression on her sister-in-law. She dismissed a few topics before settling on one.

“So Miss Georgiana, what do you know about fairy tales?”

As it turned out, it wasn't only Georgiana who enjoyed fairytales.

“Miss Winston,” Mr Darcy interrupted Elizabeth and Georgiana’s riveting conversation. The two of them turned to face the curious new face.

“Mr Darcy,” the women greeted. “I was curious since I heard mention of the Grimm tales. I was not aware that someone of particular note also enjoyed it.”

It was clear she was looking up at Mr Darcy with clear interest.

“It is my fiance, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who holds the most interest in literature. She enjoys reading immensely and holds a similar interest in folk tales such as theirs,” clarified Mr Darcy. He smiled at the two women nearest to him. 

“Georgiana, Miss Elizabeth, this is Miss Winston. She is the younger sister of an acquaintance from Cambridge,” he introduced. Elizabeth smiled at the woman as she fanned herself casually. 

“May I ask as to the location of your brother, Miss Winston? I hope he won't miss you,” she said.

“Not at all,” she clarified, tilting her head towards the throng of people around the bride. “My brother and his wife are greeting Mr and Mrs Bingley at the moment. They are quite busy already.”

“I see. Do you have any particular interest in literature, Miss Winston?” Elizabeth asked. She hadn't exactly been expecting anything, but it was still a surprise when she snapped her fan shut with her eyes glittering like she had just been waiting for someone to ask.

“I do enjoy going to the opera as often as I can actually. It's such a wonderful thing, to feel a story with all your senses. Since I read the tales, I have been hoping for an opera adaptation but alas, it does not seem to have occurred just yet,” and she continued speaking about her love of opera for a few more moments before any of them found space to interrupt. 

“Miss Winston, I would be delighted to continue this conversation at a later time. However, I must soon depart to greet some of our distant relatives,” she curtsied. Miss Winston had no choice but to bid goodbye and Elizabeth found that she truly did have to leave as well. She brushed her fingertips to Mr Darcy’s hand and openly squeezed Georgiana’s hands, before she left as well.

Thankfully, they didn't really have any relatives who came from afar, unlike Bingley. They all greeted Elizabeth and welcomed the chance to attend her wedding as well. There were no relatives from their side of the family that would be required to stay from Jane’s wedding to Elizabeth's.

However, Georgiana would stay in Netherfield Park assisted by her chaperone, Mrs Annesley, until her brother's wedding. Mr Darcy would have to leave one more time for Pemberley, before their wedding, but allowed Georgiana to stay unless a problem arose, during which she could return to the Darcy House in London at any time.

It would allow Elizabeth to finally get to know her future sister-in-law, and neither of the three involved wanted to pass up such an opportunity.

In the time after Jane’s wedding, Hertfordshire seemed astoundingly empty. Mary had left again after the wedding, and Jane was on her honeymoon. Lydia frolicked with Miss Bingley in God knows where, and her mother was crying almost constantly, from happiness or sadness, no one could quite tell.

So Elizabeth spent most of her time with Miss Georgiana and Mr Darcy. The three of them went on walks and when Georgiana claimed exhaustion, they allowed her to rest and walked alone together.

Mr Darcy was a man of propriety, unfortunately, so Elizabeth could not even take advantage of the man. However, the time they were afforded, allowed them to hold hands and lean into each other. Georgiana was only too happy to look away from such displays, her lips constantly stretched into a teasing grin as she skipped ahead of them.

But Elizabeth could not pretend to not appear as if she was deliberately teasing Mr Darcy. If he enjoyed holding her face, he must bear with her lips kissing his palm or teasing his thumb with the briefest flicks of her tongue. 

She had already lost count of the amount of times she had seen him close his eyes as if in pain, and every time she had to restrain herself from cackling loudly. She didn't quite pretend to be an oblivious gentlewoman, instead playing up her role as a country chit who had seen an unfortunate number of things.

But, it was hilarious, the way Mr Darcy tried to avoid telling her what the matter was, each time he pulled away from her abruptly.

Hahahahaha.

Poor man.

She was definitely laughing at him.

She hadn't even known how much delight she would take from just teasing him in these ridiculous ways.

In fact, they even played hide and seek in the library of Netherfield once and she still remembered the startled expression on his face when she jumped over a table to avoid him. Georgiana had burst into giggles, giving away her position underneath a table, and that had been that.

While she wouldn't say she didn't have her misgivings about Georgiana, she was incredibly relieved to find the way the three of them fit together. It was like how it would feel to have a version of Jane as a younger sister, but at the same time, she had a bit of Lydia’s mischievousness, Kitty’s awe for Lydia (directed towards Elizabeth, surprisingly), and Mary’s restraint.

Georgiana was still far more timid, but Elizabeth was happy to see the way she had opened up to her. So was Mr Darcy, in fact.

The only point in contention was that she didn't have enough time with Mr Darcy. In fact, it didn't feel like enough time even if they spent all day together. 

She knew this was what people often called the ‘honeymoon’ phase of a relationship, but she honestly hoped that she would never lose the thrill of joy in her chest every time she saw Mr Darcy smile.

Unfortunately, wedding preparations for her wedding were about to start as well. Her mother seemed stretched thin from sending Jane away as it was, so Elizabeth let her mother spend some time resting as she decided what parts of the previous weddings she could use and what must be packed away.

The good thing about these weddings was that the groom's were incredibly aware of the financial situation of the bride’s family and had paid for most, if not all, of the wedding preparations.

She felt rather guilty about it, but she hoped that she would be able to earn back the money during her time as Mrs Darcy. She had never hoped for a grand wedding, but she knew there was no alternative. Her husband was a rich (ridiculously rich, actually) man, and while that opened a lot of gates, it also opened him up to a lot of censure.

Even if nothing could be done about her lack of money or connections, she must not embarrass him as his wife. She wanted him to be proud to speak of her.

She might be a country girl, but she was also a working 21st century woman and she was far more confident in herself than any 20 year old, no matter how amazing, had any right to be.

She would be gracious and perfectly mannered, throughout her wedding. Well, not completely but enough.

No pressure though. Just a passing Earl and his family had RSVP’ed their attendance.

Still, she wasn't too worried about it. She had Georgiana on her side after all!

Soon, Jane returned from her honeymoon, looking bright and beautiful and utterly happy. She settled into Netherfield and Jane, Elizabeth and Georgiana spent some time together as Mr Darcy became busier.

Even though they had expected it, it was still a slight shock when Mr Darcy told them that he must be leaving for Pemberly. It wasn't that he hadn't occasionally gone to London for business, but Pemberly was still farther away.

In the end, he left and Elizabeth and Jane started planning for Elizabeth's upcoming wedding. Their mother felt much more revived in spirit after Jane returned, and she was gratified at having at least one married daughter so close at hand.

The four of them set out for a boutique at London which was booked for Elizabeth’s wedding dress soon after.

Georgiana ooh’ed at practically everything, and Jane was surprisingly picky. Their mother kept holding Jane’s hand and trying not to cry, even as she criticised just about everything.

In the end, Jane was the one who ended up being the most helpful. She picked to have flowers woven through Elizabeth’s hair, and white was chosen as her colour.

Georgiana helped pick out the best material and Elizabeth put her foot down about the design. It was Georgiana and Elizabeth who chose a dress which would go with the jewelry Mr Darcy had sent to her, and the graceful design of the flowers in her hair. 

Elizabeth hoped to never seen the prices of everything they had decided on, but Georgiana pushed them to get the entire wardrobe from the same boutique (which was…ridiculously expensive as she had previously stated!!). But it was difficult to argue with someone who held the power of money.

Georgiana seemed eager to drain her brother dry for the first time since she had seen her. She liked everything Elizabeth did and wore, and had a great taste for material.

It wasn't like she didn't like it! She did. The material felt heavenly on her skin, but who didn't enjoy the feeling of being spoiled? But. It was still not her money.

She felt embarrassed to be doing all this with her future husband's money.

Even Jane did not understand. After all, the people of this time were used to this. Their parents did not have to work for money. The daughters spent their father's money before going off to spend their husband's.

It wasn't like she didn't understand the amount of things women lost because of it either. But it still felt like she was being shameless. 

She buried the feeling, however. 

Georgiana was happy enough to spend her brother's money and she knew Mr Darcy was rich enough, so…it was alright to simply enjoy it.

An entire wardrobe later, she finally left the boutique feeling drained. The plan had been to buy her wardrobe from other boutiques, but in the end, they had done everything in the same place. They took a break to eat and refresh themselves and then went back to buy bits and pieces, like some ribbons or hats for everyone.

They spent some time in London and Georgiana took them to her favorite places. They went to visit the opera once, before they had to return back to Longbourne.

It was overall, a rather enjoyable time.

Georgiana had not only come almost completely out of her shell, but she had enjoyed her time immensely with women who could be called both family and practical strangers. 

However, the Bennet's were much more used to women, so Georgiana felt very little discomfort in being welcomed into the family.

Unlike the loneliness of being home, having no mother or father, with a brother who seemed more like a father than brother, she was immediately over-attached to the family made almost completely out of women. Regardless of their rather obvious problems with mannerisms, they were a warm family who welcomed Georgiana immediately.

Their mother seemed to have hoarded Georgiana in with her daughters, and even though Georgiana was clearly unfamiliar with such things, she took to it happily. 

Elizabeth called it the ‘small town effect’ where everyone was adopted by everyone. Just like Elizabeth was practically half Lucas, and Charlotte was practically half-Bennet. Georgiana had already become a half Bennet as well. She just didn't know it yet.

She wanted to laugh whenever she thought about the kind of expression Mr Darcy would have upon returning and realising the same. Poor Mr Darcy who disliked her parents. It would be incredibly funny to see him try to drag his sister away from her mother's grasp. 

Her mother had almost completely forgotten about Mrs Annesley, and hovered over Georgiana like she didn't have her own companion. 

Her mother barely even talked about money anymore. It still happened reflexively, but in the past few months, she had prepared for three weddings, each grander than the previous one. She almost had three of her five daughters married off and the burden on the Longbourne estate was bound to be much less. Or well, it would be as long as they stopped having weddings. 

If her mother still had the same sense of money as she did after the last few months, Elizabeth would be surprised. 

Still, Elizabeth’s wedding was bound to be grand. It would not have as many people as Jane’s did, but each and every one who arrived would be a someone in high society. 

The wide field near Longbourne where they had arranged for Jane’s reception, would be redone for Elizabeth’s wedding as well. It was less silk and more flowers than Jane’s.

Where Jane’s wedding could highlight the natural flowers already blooming, putting more focus on the elegance of the silks, Elizabeth would do the opposite. The background was already set and the flowers would be the highlight.

Elizabeth enjoyed arranging the venue to her needs. The carriages that pulled up to reception would enter through a path of full autumn bloom, and when they stepped onto the venue, they would see bright beautiful flowers complementing the colours of autumn.

She almost wished she could put those small electric lights in the middle of each table and open up a restaurant at night. She could only imagine how beautiful looking up at the open sky would be. Or perhaps even an array of electric lights to hand over the people.

It would have been the perfect place for a romantic dinner at night. However, since reception happened during the daytime, she had to arrange for a vast array of fresh flowers to be moved.

She was honestly, so freaking glad she loved watching those decorating DIYs because there was no way she could have arranged something this utterly gorgeous without all the necessities of modern times otherwise. 

Jane’s wedding had gone perfectly with the beauty of spring, and the shades of golden flowers and cloth had only highlighted how beautiful she was. Elizabeth was having her wedding in the fall, with perfect ripening of the leaves, not yet fallen, and she would make sure it was as utterly gorgeous as it could be.

As the leaves changed their colours into yellow, Elizabeth knew from the bottom of her heart that it would be an utterly perfect day.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth was very involved with her own wedding preparations. She had been involved with both Jane and Mary’s preparations as well, and she had spent some time just drawing up a sketch of her idea before putting it into action. 

She could have been pretty great at event management if she could say so herself, cause she was crazy good at this. Or maybe it was because it was her wedding she was planning. 

Georgiana was also surprisingly involved as well. She had never helped plan a wedding before so she was eager to learn. But she was also a woman of expensive taste so it was also a test of how impressed she would be.

Georgiana and Mrs Annesley were also a great help to make it look just the right amount of gorgeous without making it over the top. It was a good thing that women were taught to have things like good taste, instead of simply expected to naturally acquire it. 

Jane and their mother handle the details at the church because Jane had handled that part of her wedding excellently. True to taste, Jane had decided the perfect look for Elizabeth’s wedding.

When Mr Darcy returned, they spent time together wherever she could while Mr Darcy was taken away to hunt what felt like half of Hertfordshire’s animals. Mr Bingley kept the poor, hassled man company and tried to keep away all the enthusiastic, extroverted men away from her introverted future-husband. 

Even his own sister, Georgiana, had abandoned him by throwing herself eagerly into the Bennet family and the wedding preparations. All she seemed to talk about day and night was how beautiful everything looked and she really wanted to see her brother get married and how she was sure he would cry when he saw Miss Elizabeth in her wedding attire.

Elizabeth mostly laughed the entire time, and tried to prevent Georgiana from giving anything important away. After all, one of the delights of being a bride was her future husband’s reaction.

It was only in the short, peaceful duration of after most of the preparations were done and before any guests had arrived, that Elizabeth noted something suspicious.

Jane was drinking their mother’s unpleasant tea!

There could only be one answer to this.

“Jane, you're pregnant?” She blurted out one morning during breakfast.

The entire breakfast table became silent, as Jane smiled and shared a look with Bingley. They looked at Elizabeth and then at the company at their table before smiling and owning up to it.

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” Jane giggled, “but yes, Lizzy. I'm about to become a mother.”

Elizabeth hugged Jane excitedly, barely hearing Bingley repeat the same thing.

“Congratulations!” She said, hugging Jane to herself and rocked them back and forth, trying to blink back her own emotional tears. “I can't believe how soon it is!”

“It isn't that soon,” Jane laughed, “We’ve been married almost 5 months now.”

The reply struck her oddly, and she gave a quick glance at Darcy before smiling at Jane.

“I can't believe I'm already about to be an aunt! I'm really happy for you, Jane!” She kissed her cheeks and backed away to let everyone else give their well wishes. She turned to Bingleyv and smiled brightly at him. 

“I'm so happy for you. I know you will be a good father,” she told him. 

“Thank you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with his grin so bright it looked like the sunlight. In fact, she even saw his eyes get teary as Mr Darcy came up to wish him well. 

She quickly went to Mr Darcy and held his hands, gently squeezing it for reassurance. Their tangled hands hidden between their bodies, went unnoticed by everyone else during the occasion. 

Later on, she took him to a balcony for a private discussion.

To be perfectly honest…while she wasn't the 20 year old she looked like, she also didn't feel ready to just… have a child. She didn't have anything against them and she also knew that parents didn't necessarily need to take care of a child. They had nannies for that. But she needed time. 

She tangled her fingers together, unsure of how to have this conversation.

“What is it, Miss Elizabeth?” He said, and he picked up both her hands and held them gently in his own. She watched their fingers tangled together with a faint smile before sighing.

“Would you be alright if I don't wish to immediately have a child?” She asked him. Then she kept her eyes closed because she didn't want to see a first reaction that could hurt her.

Mr Darcy gently let down her hand and she closed her eyes even tighter. She was kind of hoping he would go through his first reaction and reach the negotiating stage soon-

Mr Darcy cupped her face and kissed her forehead. 

And just like that, all her fears drained out of her. They stayed like that for a few moments longer. Just him holding her face and nuzzling into her hair. Then he pulled away with a concerned look. 

“Do you have any…” he faded away, looking a little embarrassed.

“No! No, God no. There's nothing wrong with my health,” she assured him with pinkened cheeks, trying to look anywhere but at him. He shifted awkwardly.

“I just want to spend some time as just the two of us. I know…that you need an heir,” she got out with difficulty. “Actually, nevermind-” she quickly abandoned as the awkwardness became unbearable.

“Wait,” he called out, capturing her hand. “Elizabeth,” he said and she had to stifle the shivering it caused.

“I do not wish for you to be discomfited by my presence in any way. Please,” he asked- no, begged- her, “tell me what you wished to say.”

Elizabeth chewed on her bottom lip before sighing.

“I was just wondering if you would be all right with having a child a little later on, is all. I won't drink any infertility tea or anything. And if it happens, it happens. But I don't wish to care for a child just yet,” she said. Mr Darcy pushed back one curled strand from her face and sighed.

“Miss Elizabeth, I would never wish to cause you any discomfort,” he said. And he kissed her forehead again, and that seemed to be the answer.

When he went to pull away from her, she held his hand and kissed his palm, smiling into it.

“You would make a brilliant father,” she whispered into her palm, smiling up at him.

For a moment, she could imagine him holding up a little girl in his arms, both turning to look at her with identical eyes, and had to breathe through the temptation of climbing him like a tree.

Bad Elizabeth!

She kissed his palm again, softly kissing up to his wrist, where he twitched. She smiled against the sensitive skin there.

“Mr Darcy, are you not tired yet?” she put her cheek in his palm and laced her fingers through his. She blinked up at him mischievously.

“I am not,” Mr Darcy said, his thumb tracing the lower edge of her lip. She smiled.

“You have been running through my mind all year. I thought you would have been tired by now, sir,” she teased. And Mr Darcy’s lips quirked up.

“It has not yet been a year since we met, my dear Elizabeth,” he said warmly.

“It will be a year on our wedding day,” she told him, cheekily. “A year anniversary since the day you met and insulted me at a ball,” she grinned.

Mr Darcy’s eyes lightened with laughter.

“And I have spent the last year learning my lesson. I will endeavour to make sure that the next year should go better for my dear wife, than the year you spent without me by your side,” his sincerity was a palpable thing as he kissed her hand. 

He looked like he wanted to kiss her lips, but restraint and respect held him back from it.

“My dear Fitzwilliam,” she said back to him and he blushed a little at the sound of this name, “I will make you the happiest man in the world.”

He smiled.

“And I you, my dear.”

It was the day after Jane revealed the news of his pregnancy that guests started arriving.

The first few to arrive was, unsurprisingly, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and her daughter, Lady Anne. She looked over Netherfield Park, which would host all the guests and nodded, saying nothing distasteful.

When Elizabeth went to greet the woman privately, that was when she got the lashing she had been expecting. However, even that was very tame compared to what she had gotten from Lady Catherine before.

Lady Anne looked surprised for only a moment, before she continued to ignore the people in the same room as her. However, Lady Catherine did not dismiss her and instead had her invite a few women of her acquaintance.

When she invited Jane and Georgiana, Lady Catherine looked surprised. Both were the epitome of courtesy in front of her, and Elizabeth kept to it as well, pretending to not hear the few remarks of ‘who did she inherit such a quick tongue from’ and other disparaging remarks towards herself. After a while, Lady Catherine rolled her eyes, seeing through Elizabeth's act, and demanded for some music.

However, instead of asking Anne, she asked Georgiana, which almost made Elizabeth grin. She had to hide it, however, or she would be scolded again.

After Lady Catherine, came Colonel Fitzwilliam. After greeting her briefly, he spent an awful lot of time attending Mr and Mrs Lucas’ dinner invitations.

Suspicious.

Slowly, Mr Darcy’s maternal family creeped in as well. The Earl of Matlock, his wife and their eldest son made an appearance. Then came some more distant relatives and Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley’s friends. 

She was pleased to note that Mr Darcy had friends of taste. He was an excellent judge of character and the company he kept defined him well.

While she wouldn't say everyone overlooked her previous lack of connection or money, she also couldn't say they didn't respect her for who she was going to be.

As she had expected, everyone acquainted with Lady Catherine was rather surprised to not see the lady laying down scathing remarks on the soon-to-be bride. Instead, Lady Catherine was downright polite, which seemed to take not only her daughter, but the entire list of her large, extended family by surprise.

Mr Darcy had to hide his smile at the way Colonel Fitzwilliam looked at Elizabeth in wide eyed shock. He, after all, was most aware of the fact that he had left behind a raging aunt, and had come back to see her treating the soon-to-be bride as practically her own daughter.

Lady Matlock seemed to appreciate it and actually started talking to her beyond the polite inquiries of before.

Lady Catherine ignored Elizabeth’s curious glances, and only spoke shortly to her daughter. It didn't stop everyone from raising their brows when Lady Catherine asked Elizabeth to escort her back to the room after dinner. 

When they reached her room, Lady Catherine dismissed her daughter before turning to Elizabeth.

“I have done my part. Do take care not to bother me with inane requests any further,” she said, before slamming the door in her face. Elizabeth blinked at the door.

“But-” I didn't request anything?

“Thank you,” she said to the closed doors instead, before turning around and walking away with a bewildered smile.

In the short time before the wedding, Elizabeth got acquainted with the people Mr Darcy worked with and respected. Some were from Derbyshire, and some not. Some were from farther away. Some were in the military. Some were already married as well.

She met with such a large variety of people, she was rather surprised she remembered everyone’s name after all. Though, she might have to refresh exactly how they knew Mr Darcy again. The exact relations got rather confusing after a while.

She was pretty sure there was an entire family of someone Mr Darcy was only vaguely related to. However, they had scored an invite, which was a big enough thing when they were all invited by Mr Darcy himself.

It was an interesting thing, how Mr Darcy introduced Elizabeth to everyone. As if he wanted to make sure everyone knew who she was to him.

She couldn't help but feel flattered by how special he made her feel. How on earth had she found a man like this?

She couldn't help but go around pink cheeked and smiling, staring at the man with such obvious awe and love that not only did her future husband preen, but his family were forced to conclude that no matter how unsuitable the match looked on paper, it indeed would be difficult to find someone better.

Well, of course.

After all, a poor judgement of character had never been amongst Mr Darcy’s faults.

Chapter Text

Elizabeth woke up ridiculously early for her wedding. All her sisters were running around and talking while she washed and got ready.

Jane got her a light breakfast before she was forced into the various underclothes prepared beforehand. She was put in her wedding dress and her hair was done to Jane’s specifications, and then she was taken to the church. 

She was barely awake and feeling rather tortured by the time she managed to stand in front of a church filled with guests waiting for her to be wedded. She was also quite terrified of marriage all of a sudden for no particular reason that she could tell. 

However, it melted away like rain under the sun when Mr Darcy saw her.

The ceremony was simple and modest, as it ought to be, but she remembered absolutely nothing aside from the look on Mr Darcy’s face.

It was only after they had spoken their vows and exchanged rings, that she finally felt like there was a world outside of the two of them. It had felt like everyone else had disappeared for a long long while, and the sudden jarring sound of voices startled her awake.

Mr Darcy squeezed her hand and she couldn't help but smile at how handsome he looked.

Even though she had been a part of every step of the preparations, she still found it rather surprising to suddenly be married to someone. She felt like she had not been prepared enough.

But even so, time stopped for no woman.

She was now Mrs Darcy.

Just like that. 

The post-wedding breakfast was as beautiful as she had made sure to be. Neither Jane’s nor her’s could be called lacking in any way.

She changed her clothes to ones more suitable for travel and she spent the rest of the time walking around with Mr Darcy and speaking to just about everyone. 

Perhaps the best part of the entire thing was that she could finally touch her man without a million people telling her why it wasn't allowed. It had been exhausting, having to be carefull and show restraint.

She met her mother's eyes and jerked her head away, in embarrassment. She still remembered what had happened the night before. 

Flashback

“Elizabeth,” her mother sat down in her bed and carefully held her hand. “I am aware that you have read a lot and are quite intelligent. However, there is an aspect to marriage we have not told you about.”

Jane took hold of her other hand and Elizabeth had a sudden realisation of what they had wanted to speak about. 

“Among the martial duties that you need to carry out, there is one more that is very important,” her mother started. 

“The duty to give your husband an heir,” Jane said, when their mother seemed at odds about how to continue.

Elizabeth remembered thinking about Mr Darcy with a child, remembered the heat that has suffused her at the thought, and wanted to die.

“Yes,” she choked out. “I am aware.” She cleared her voice.

“These duties…they take place at night, you see,” her mother started. “He will know what to do. However you must not refuse him or be startled. It is a very natural thing,” she assured her.

Jane smiled at Elizabeth.

“It might hurt a little, but don't worry. The pain will fade,” she said.

“Or it might not,” her mother added. “But it will be all right!” She hurriedly assured.

“There might also be some blood,” her mother said.

“I did not have any during mine,” Jane confessed, confusedly. “However, Mr Bingley is aware that I have never done such things before.”

“You did not bleed?” Mother said surprised. Jane pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“I do not think it odd,” Elizabeth assured Jane, and Jane smiled at her.

“So there might be some pain and blood involved and you said not to resist. Is there anything else to tell me?” Elizabeth said. Jane and their mother looked at each other.

“Um, it might involve…” Jane started hesitantly.

“Jane,” her mother scolded.

“Mama, she can't go in so unprepared!” Jane protested.

“You did and you were fine,” their mother said, gently stroking Jane’s hair. Jane shook her head, brows furrowing in concern.

“Lizzy, don't be afraid. It may even feel…good,” Jane admitted, blushing a fetching pink.

Elizabeth blinked blankly at the two.

“All right, I must confess,” she sighed. “I already know what the two of you keep avoiding speaking about.”

Her mother and sister gasped in sync. Elizabeth looked away.

“I happened across a couple near the stream, and I was curious about the noises. I did not expect to see what I did,” she craned her head away from the twin shocked expressions on her mother and sister’s face and tried not to turn red.

It had actually happened, though Elizabeth had seen nothing, she had only heard them.

But even so, she almost wanted to shake these two people.

Honestly, what kind of preparation was “don't be afraid, he'll know what to do”? Seriously.

No wonder this era was nuts.

People had no idea the amount of things people had sexualized in the 21st century. From knowing her soon-to-be husband’s character, she also rather doubted whether he would actually know what he was doing.

He might know what to do in theory, but she doubted his experience. Whatever experience the poor man did have, she was quite sure she had way more.

However, even if she happened to tell the man her story…there was no way in hell she was telling him she had any romantic experience.

That said, she hid a smirk, she had a pretty good idea of what she wanted to do.

Flashback end

The night had ended on a rather awkward note after that. Though at least Jane seemed glad that Elizabeth knew what to do.

She had a feeling that Mr Bingley, no matter his numerous fancies, had rather been further in the inexperienced department than she would have liked. Poor Jane.

She took a glance at Mr Darcy before turning away. She actually had no idea how much he knew or not, but he had seemed willing enough to indulge her in most matters. She did not doubt this would be one of them either. 

“Oh!” She yelped, when someone suddenly spilled a glass of wine down her back. When she turned around, she was surprised to find Miss Calenbury, the first cousin of Lady Matlock, on her knees. She was quite young, around Mr Darcy’s age, but in this era, she would be called a spinster already.

“Are you alright?” She asked, concerned. She helped the lady up by her elbow and spotted the quick glance the lady gave to the table Mr Darcy had just been speaking to. 

“What happened, Elizabeth?” Mr Darcy hurried to her side, his hand briefly touching the wet spot on her back. 

“It's nothing. Miss Calenbury spilled some of her wine on me,” she told the man. He nodded, picking up the glass to place it at a table. 

“If you are feeling dizzy, please rest for a moment. I will ask for some water,” Elizabeth said, but before she could go, the woman tilted almost directly into Mr Darcy’s arms instead. 

“Whoa,” she said, quickly embracing the girl and her now-husband steadied her. “Miss Calenbury, can you hear me?”

Them she turned to Mr Darcy and told him to find her brother and some water.

“Tch,” the woman said, sitting up with flushed cheeks. “Mrs Darcy, you are too nice. Someone could steal your husband if you're not careful.”

Elizabeth smiled at the lady.

“No one I know could ever debase themselves in such a manner, Miss Calenbury. However, it is not very sightly to be drunk so early in the day,” she steadied the woman as she swayed in her seat. 

Miss Calenbury waved her hand carelessly. 

“It does not matter. I have no interest people who care about such things,” she slumped on the table, looking up at her with bright sparkling eyes. “Mrs Darcy…”

Then she suddenly took hold of her arm and yanked her almost over her body. Elizabeth was so surprised that she almost hit the lady's head with her chin instead of catching herself on the table in time. 

“What are you-” she blinked down in shock when Miss Calenbury stroked her cheek.

“You're rather pretty, Mrs Darcy,” she grinned teasingly. “Perhaps an invitation to your house would also interest me.”

Then, someone else took hold of her arm and pulled her back. She looked up to see Mr Darcy frowning.

“Miss Calenbury, do control yourself,” he said firmly. “This is my wife.”

“Sister,” the man by Mr Darcy’s side sighed heavily. “Please don’t say anything else or I will be forced to look at your expenses for this month.”

Miss Calenbury merely winked at her, keeping a finger to her lip to show her being quiet. Elizabeth laughed, as Mr Darcy pulled her away. 

“Mrs Darcy,” he said into her ear, rather fiercely, “perhaps you require a change of clothes.”

“Perhaps, I do,” she whispered back as she was dragged back to Longbourne.

However, instead of leaving Mr Darcy and going up to her room to change, she pulled them through the open doors of their dining room and closed it behind her. 

Without any trepidation, she pushed Mr Darcy against the door, stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.

She could feel the way the entirety of her husband froze up at the action, but she continued. She ran her hand into his hair and tilted her head and pressed more insistently against his lips.

His hand ran up her side and to the back of her head. For a moment, she was surprised by the action, before he flipped them around and she let out an audible moan as she was pushed up against the door and pinned down by his hard body. His hand simply made sure she didn't hit her head. 

The first press of their open mouths was heavenly. The heat of his mouth suffused through her entire body and when he traced the sensitive areas inside her mouth, she whimpered and pressed up against him. 

In the next few minutes of heat and wetness, she could barely tell when she wrapped her legs around his waist or how his hands trailed up her bare legs, pushing the hem of her dress higher and higher…

“Elizabeth!” Her mother called out to her, knocking on another door in the hallway. She opened the door and grumbled to herself before moving onto the next one. “Elizabeth?! Where are you?”

Meanwhile, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam pulled away to stare at each other with wide eyes.

-

Even though Elizabeth looked very obviously rumpled, her mother did not reprimand them.

On seeing the strain from the wine, Elizabeth was ushered upstairs and forced to change into her other dress which she had set aside in case an accident happened to the first pair. 

The problem with this, of course, was that she was planning to have that ‘accident’ with her husband, on the carriage to London. However, no plan survives contact with the enemy, so she had to discard her plans.

When her things were loaded up onto the carriage, the two of them went to the reception and bade them goodbye before leaving. From experience, she knew that most would leave after a gathering in town.

She knew Jane had chosen to host a private ball in Netherfield itself for the members of the wedding party. However, such matters were not for her to think about anymore.

She leaned against Fitzwilliam’s shoulder inside the cozy, enclosed carriage and sighed.

“I feel as if I will return at any moment now,” she told him. Fitzwilliam wound an arm around her shoulder reassuringly, briefly kissing her head. She turned towards him, putting her feet over his legs and wrapped her arms around him.

“This actually feels quite nice,” she said, nuzzling against his shoulder, and he hummed, pulling her securely against him.

She didn't even realize when she had dozed off after that. She only remembered the steady rocking of the carriage and her husband's warmth sinking into every part of her and before she knew it, she had fallen sleep.

She only woke up when the carriage had to stop midway and Fitzwilliam left her alone to address whatever the problem was. She curled up unhappily against the corner and dozed off again, only to be woken up when the carriage started moving.

“What happened?” She asked, grumpily, curling closer to Fitzwilliam’s side as she waited for him to answer.

“Fitzwilliam?” She asked, blinking her sleep away as she looked up at him. His expression immediately erased all traces of sleep from her mind. “What happened?” She asked again, this time more alert.

The silly man tried to calm her down by stroking her head and shaking his own silently.

“Don't hide things from me, Mr Darcy,” she said sharply.

“Mrs Darcy,” he said indulgently, tipping her head up, and she had to resist the urge to smile. She flattened her lips and tried to look stern.

“Tell me,” she demanded. He sighed, sitting back.

“It seems Mr Wickham has sold his commision,” he told her.

“Sold his commision? Whatever for?” She asked, confused. Fitzwilliam showed her the letter he had just received.

“A lieutenant associated with my cousin has been rather harsh on him for the past few months. He seemed to have mentioned my name after getting news of my wedding, and the next day Mr Wickham sold his commision and left,” Fitzwilliam said. She went through the letter and it said much the same.

“And his debts? Did he repay them or are there debtors pursuing him still?” She asked, after returning the letter.

“He has repaid his most immediate debt, however, it is not enough to save him from debtor prison if he leaves his commision,” he told her.

“I wonder what he wants now. Do you think he will attempt to hurt you or me?” She said with slight concern, then she sat up with a frown. “What about Georgiana? She is still in Netherfield. Would she not be safer in Pemberly?”

He shook his head.

“The journey to Pemberly could pose a danger. I would rather not chance her falling into his hands. It would be safer for her to remain in Netherfield. After all, the moment he enters Meryton, he will hear of our wedding. Perhaps he will reach out in London,” Fitzwilliam ran a finger down her arm absentmindedly.

“I will put out news of our wedding on the papers. The moment he reads it, he will know to not return to Netherfield, and will instead attempt to go to our house in London, or Pemberly. He will be caught far before he can attempt anything,” he told her.

She was trying to piece together what he said while he very distractingly ran his hands up and down her arms.

“Mr Darcy,” she smiled mischievously at him, “Are you attempting to seduce me right now?”

Fitzwilliam looked startled at her words.

“I- Am I?” He asked her, caught off guard. She laughed at his confusion.

“Sir, you are very good at touching me. You should keep doing it. I enjoy it,” she told him, holding onto his hand that had stopped caressing her arm.

He carefully ran his fingers down her arm and she lay her head on his shoulder, and smiled up at him, curling a finger under his chin.

“Mr Darcy,” she breathed out, “perhaps we should not be thinking of unrelated people on the day of our wedding.”

“Mrs Darcy, you have taken the words right

out of my mouth,” he said. Her eyes dropped to his mouth.

“Have I?” She asked.

She never quite received an answer.

Chapter Text

Mr and Mrs Darcy stepped off the carriage looking rumpled, however no one dared to point such a thing out to them, even if they all took silent amusement at the sight. 

However, it was obvious from the first sight that it was quite obviously a love match. Mrs Darcy had a difficult time looking away from her spouse and it was much the same with Mr Darcy.

“This is Mr and Mrs Harold,” Mr Darcy introduced and both of them bowed to their new madam. “They have worked here for almost all my life and will take care of you if any problem arises. You can ask them anything,” Mr Darcy said, gently petting the hand Mrs Darcy had placed on his arm. 

“Thank you,” Mrs Darcy told her husband before turning to the housekeeper and butler. The number of maids behind the two stiffened just slightly at the sharp way she looked at them all.

“Shall we wash the dust and eat, my dear?” Mr Darcy said, sounding so terribly tender. Mrs Darcy blushed deeply, attempting to avoid the numerous eyes her husband was ignoring. 

“Yes,” she agreed. “I would like a brief look around the house as well.”

“Very well,” Mr Darcy said, and Mrs Harold bowed her head elegantly. “Make sure that there is nothing that inconveniences my wife.”

“Yes, Mr Darcy,” the housekeeper said.

“I will go ahead first,” Mr Darcy said before leaving her. His valet accompanied him. 

“Mrs Harold,” Mrs Darcy said, “could you tell if a lady maid has already been chosen for me?”

“A maid has been selected from Pemberly for your leisure. If there is any inconvenience, she can be replaced,” the housekeeper said. 

“Could I be introduced?” She asked, and the housekeeper led her to a maid and introduced her as Claire. Then, Mrs Darcy asked for a brief tour where they showed her the living and bedrooms before the housekeeper left Mrs Darcy in her own room with her maid.

“Shall I call for a bath, Mrs Darcy?” Claire asked with a sweet voice.

“Yes, thank you,” Mrs Darcy said, and so Claire called for one, and then had her sit in front of a mirror as they started to untangle her elaborate hairdo.

Elizabeth relaxed under her skilled hands, and it wasn't long before she was sinking into hot water and being wiped clean.

“Did you volunteer or were you chosen?” Mrs Darcy asked after a while of being in the water. Her lady’s maid froze, before continuing on with her task.

“I was chosen, ma’am,” Claire said. Mrs Darcy hummed in response, and Claire could not figure out what it meant.

“Ah, forgive me, I was rather distracted,” she excused, smiling, “It is my wedding night, after all,” she told her, looking sheepish.

“It is no problem, Mrs Darcy,” Claire fluttered her hands. “You must be eager to spend time with your husband,” she tittered.

“Oh? Was I so obvious?” Mrs Darcy smiled. “My husband is an amazing man. How could I not?”

“Well, Mr Darcy certainly seemed rather smitten as well, Mrs Darcy,” Claire said gingerly. Mrs Darcy’s smile widened.

“Did he?” She asked, with a hint of teasing. “I couldn't tell.” Claire laughed nervously.

“There's no need to be nervous,” Mrs Darcy said, “At the moment, nothing could displease me,” she said as she left the bath. “Other than my husband being busy,” she tacked on when she was being dried.

“I doubt anything short of a household emergency could keep him from you, Mrs Darcy,” Claire said and Mrs Darcy blushed a little. 

“An exaggeration, I am sure. But I like it,” she said, winking at Claire. Claire took out the packed away clothes after attending to Mrs Darcy.

“Please don't keep my wedding dress away. I will have need of it later tonight,” she told Claire froze in surprise, shooting a subtle confused look. However, Mrs Darcy chose to say nothing more to alleviate her shock.

Soon after, Mrs Darcy was ready for dinner. 

-

The moment Elizabeth saw Fitzwilliam, she felt like she could take a breath of fresh air. She couldn't believe how relaxed he looked at his own home.

He smiled warmly at her, taking her hand to kiss the back of it.

“How are you this fine evening, Mrs Darcy?” He said and Elizabeth had to smile at the endearment.

“I missed my husband rather terribly, Mr Darcy. Perhaps you could be of some help?” She teased back. 

“It seems I must keep you company while your husband stops disregarding his beautiful wife,” he said, but he looked so fond it was difficult to go along with it 

“What can I say?” Elizabeth laughed, “My husband is such a striking man, that I would be willing to be discarded for a moment of his time.”

“He would never,” promised Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth held onto her husband's face and smiled.

“I know so as well,” she told him. 

“Come,” Fitzwilliam said, holding her hand and bringing her to the table.

He was a complete gentleman as he sat her down and ate by her side. She was tempted to run her foot up his leg, but she restrained. That was for their second day as a married couple. She didn't want to shock him too badly just yet. 

That said, it didn't stop her from running her mouth, and they teased each other lightheartedly for a while.

After she was done, she smiled up at her husband and told him to wait for her outside his room. She would call him inside after she was done.

Fitzwilliam blushed at her bold words, and was surprised at her forwardedness, but he agreed. Elizabeth walked back with a skip in her step, leaving her husband staring.

Claire was waiting for her when she reached her room, and while she understood when Elizabeth stripped down to her chemise, she was confused when she was asked for help to put the gorgeous wedding dress on. 

Elizabeth went to his bedroom from the conjoined door and dismissed her maid after telling her to call her husband up. 

Just by being in his room, she could tell how much time he spent in his house in London. It had everything he would need and it was obvious that they were well used.

She had always known that Fitzwilliam was rich. It was practically the first thing anyone knew about him. But it was something else to watch that wealth in action.

She had never seen so many maids assigned to one house, and it wasn't to mention how utterly gorgeous the house in London was.

She made a sweep of the room before ending at the mirror. She looked beautiful, as she had known she would. The wedding dress suited her perfectly.

While it was modest and looked deceptively simple, the sheer quality of it could not be hidden. Even when she did not wear any jewellery, even though her hair feel loosely around her shoulder, she could still tell that it was expensive. That she was expensive. 

She used to hate hand-me-downs and being in another’s debt. She hated the concept of using people for money, because it was the people who were so goddamn precious.

But she couldn't help feeling pleased when she looked at herself now. It was her but also not.

Elizabeth Darcy neé Bennet.

She liked it a whole lot better, actually. Specially because it came with this one very special man.

As if in cue, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” she said, turning towards the man with a smile. She couldn't remember the last time a man had knocked on her door and waited for her to respond.

She knew it was the manners that he had grown up with, but she couldn't help but find them endearing. She respected him so much for them, and she knew he felt the same.

It was why she had never taken advantage of their engagement and kissed. She knew that they could. They could even go much farther. But he wouldn't have liked it.

Someone like him, who grew up with strict morals for himself, who had seen what Wickham’s dalliances left behind, who loved and protected his sister from the same thing…how could he be completely free of second thoughts if they did something while engaged?

He opened the door and stepped through, his eyes widening in surprise at the sight of her dressed up in her wedding dress. He closed the door behind her quickly.

He was so dressed down and looked unbearably comfortable. A simple shirt and pants, compared to the formal wear of vest and tail coats she had always seen him in.

She smiled brightly at him, extending a hand out to silently ask for him. He didn't disappoint. He took hold of her hand, and when she turned to look at the full mirror, he stepped behind to watch her as well.

The candles all around them threw light at them, making her look like a shimmering creature. She looked enchanting.

“My dear Elizabeth,” left Fitzwilliam’s lips as he smiled at her through her reflection. “Did you ask me to come admire your reflection this lovely evening?”

Elizabeth slid her hair off one shoulder, baring her neck to him and smiled demurely.

“I was hoping you would help me take off the wedding gown you put me in, Mr Darcy,” she said, and the sharp inhale of breath told her everything.

There was a soft press of lips on her bare neck, and firm hands at her shoulders. He reached back to the laces at her back and slid a finger easily through them, unraveling it.

He pressed kisses down her neck and to her shoulder, and when she looked up at herself in the mirror, she couldn't believe the expression she had on her face. She looked completely mesmerized by his benign touches.

“Mrs Darcy,” he said to her, meeting her eyes in the mirror, “do you enjoy watching me unravel to your will?” And while she could sense the frustration in the words, she could also hear the pleasure in it.

“Yes,” she breathed, “I rather think I do.”

“I think you do, as well,” he told her, kissing her cheek tenderly, before his hands slid down her shoulders, taking the sleeves of her dress down with it.

She couldn't help the way her heart raced in her chest. She was beautiful. She knew she was, but she was having a goddamn heart attack at the leisurely way he was unwrapping her slowly, like a desert to be enjoyed.

She knew it was her who was doing this, who had directed this. But she couldn't help the blush on her cheeks as the dress dropped into a heap at her feet.

Under the dress, she was wearing a soft stay- which was a soft version of a corset- underneath. And below that, her chemise. Going without a stay was like going without a bra and she liked the way she looked in it.

She could see the blush on his face as he took her in- so bared and underdressed. He could see up to her knees.

“There's a knot at the back,” she said, and even she sounded breathless. The stay was not as loosened as the dress has been, but he was rather good with his hands so he unknotted it quickly- even though his hands were shaking. He pulled the threads, letting it loosen completely before he looked up at her again.

This time his blush was visibly reddening his face and ears. But he still looked her in the eyes, waiting for her next move or request. 

She felt like she could ask him to let her step on him and he would agree to it without a second of hesitation. She could probably ask for the deed to his house and he wouldn't even care what he was signing away. 

She smiled at him, and then dropped the stay.

Hee chemise was very obviously meant for her wedding night- short and sheer. She could see her dark nipples through the fabric and the line of her hips turning to legs. 

She grabbed his hand, stroking his wrist as she pulled it to her face. He let out a low groan as she kissed his palm. She could feel the heat of his body, so close and yet they were barely even touching. 

She tipped her head back. Leaning against him, as she slowly slid the hand she was still holding over her own body.

She bit her lip when she felt his fingers graze her neck and collarbone, and shivered when his thumb brushed against her peaked nipple. She couldn’t help but brush up again. Instead, he flicked it, and she couldn't help the moan that left her throat at the touch.

She tilted her head and looked up at Fitzwilliam, and he was watching the mirror like he was enchanted by the sight on it. He lay his other hand on her waist, as she continued to direct the other down her body.

Under the thin hem of her chemise, their hands were completely visible. She traced down the hand to his fingers, guiding his movements to stroke her sensitive spot, showing him how she liked it.

She enjoyed the touch of every hard callous on his hands, rough when his touch was unbearably gentle.

She shuddered in his arms, and he pulled her even closer. Breathing hard against her neck as he lay wet kisses on it. She trailed his fingers down even lower, and he moaned low and long as she sank his fingers into her heat.

She couldn't help rolling her hips into it, as she showed him how to curl his fingers just right and touch her. She stroked herself with his hands, guiding his long fingers inside her own heat.

She barely registered when he took over, curling his fingers just right as she rose up to her tip toes and rolled her hips into his palm, sparks of pleasure lighting up behind her eyes when she grinded down on his strong and steady palm.

She held onto his wrist, keeping him there as she moaned. His other hand rose up to cup her breast, touching her lightly and when she opened her eyes, it was all she could see.

She looked completely lost in pleasure, lost and owned. He had his hands everywhere on her, and even worse, he was looking right at her. 

Pleasure streaked down her spine and she pulled him down to her lips, kissing him desperately as she muffled the sound of her pleasure. She couldn't bear to see him with that expression anymore.

Like, he would like nothing more than to watch her like this for the rest of his life. Like, he couldn't believe he had her. Like. Like, he would die happy if she was the last sight he saw.

She fell apart with a shudder and a cry. 

-

Coherence was surprisingly hard to reach, after. 

They were on the bed, and her husband was attempting to lay her down. By “attempting” she meant that she was sticking to him like a koala.

“Mr Darcy, are you planning to avoid your newly wed wife already?” She asked him, feeling satisfied and lazy, and also very clingy. He gave her a crooked smile, awkwardness emitting obviously.

She wondered if he thought she was done for the night. She smirked at him, pulling him down over her by his shirt. She could feel ~every~ part of him like so. 

“Mr Darcy, you mustn't leave your wife unsatisfied,” she teased, and she wanted to laugh when his eyes widened in shock and confusion. Well, she was actually pretty satisfied already. In fact, she was feeling ridiculously satisfied. 

But of course, it wasn't over until it was over. 

“Turn over for me, darling husband,” she asked, and laughed when he flipped them both over, with a hand on her waist. She ran a hand over his chest, pulling his shirt up.

“Take this off,” she demanded, and he did. She raised a brow and tugged at the pants and he took them off as well. Then she sat on his abs and took off her chemise lazily, dropping it somewhere to the side. 

After making him touch her everywhere, he seemed to have received the memo. He ran his hands from her thighs to her hips to her chest, caressing her as she liked it. He teased her, looking in awe when she arched into his touch, moaning.

“That feels very good, Mr Darcy,” she said, feeling out of breath as he continued. She leaned over to whisper it against his lips. She didn't let him reply, kissing him deeply.

Then trailed down his lips, nibbling at his jaw before going down lower. She sucked love bites everywhere. From under his jaw, to his Adam's apple, to behind his ear and down his neck. Even then he didn't stop touching her, caressing whatever part of her he could put his hands on. 

He kept teasing her breasts, as if he knew how sensitive it was to his touch. He kept stroking that fire in her as she tried not to squirm out and kept biting and sucking him to elect his own response and feel what gave him pleasure.

By the time she was done, he was littered in bruises, and she loved to feel how hard his heart was beating in his chest and the way he was feeling apart so easily under her touch too. She loved knowing that she was in control, that he was allowing her to do anything and everything she wanted. He took everything she did, watching her with dark blown pupils as he ran his hand over her body.

She had taken thorough advantage of that. She sucked a hickey on his collarbone and nibbled her way down to his nipples. She enjoyed his yelps when she found a ticklish spot and she laughed with him before avoiding them.

As she sucked a final mark on his hip bones, one she would definitely be coming back to revisit, her fingers trailed down to the very obvious protrusion not too far from her. He let out a startled sound when she grabbed it, gently, teasingly, rubbing it up and down.

“Elizabeth,” he moaned out, and she was very very tempted to say fuck it and put her mouth on it. He looked delicious and she never could say no to a treat. 

However. This was still their first night. They had time. They could do everything slowly.

She climbed on top of him again, and after making sure he was looking right at her, she slowly sank down on him. For the life of her, she could never describe the heady rush that overcame her when she saw the desperate way he clutched at her hips, threw his head back and moaned.

Loud, wanton. Desperate.

It clawed at her, settling into her as she gave them both time to adjust. But he never took control. Not even as she started rolling her hips and pinned his hands on the bed. Not even when she kissed him and moaned desperately as he thrust up just right. 

He followed her lead perfectly, running his hands over her body, watching her when she pined it down, spread her legs and put on a show. She did it slowly, aware that he wouldn't last long, and she was barely surprised by how quickly the thought filled her with increasing heat.

When they finally came, it was like the stars of a constellation. Perfectly aligned. 

She had never felt better than when she felt that rush of foreign heat inside her. She barely remembered getting off and falling into his arms. 

They stayed like that for a while.

Silent, post coital bliss. 

Plus cuddling.

She felt great, but god was she tired.

Thank god she enjoyed those long ass walks through nature.

She nuzzled into her husband, now with their marriage consummated. He was finally stuck with her no matter how strange she was. But she had a feeling he could live with it.

If nothing else, this night had shown her that he had a truly great capacity of indulgence. He hadn't even looked bothered to be so thoroughly dominated. Plus those Regency era manners seemed to apply to their bed too, which was really…hmm. Yeah. It was great.

She felt the tickling of something wet seeping out and had to sigh. She used a finger to check and was surprised to see blood.

Like. A lot of blood. 

…Fuck.

There was a towel near the bed, thankfully, but she couldn't help scowl a little as she wiped her thighs and put it between her legs, letting it soak whatever the heck left her legs.

“Elizabeth?” Fitzwilliam sat up, looking rumpled and cute and very obviously drowsy. Then his eyes widened when he noticed the smears of blood. “Are you hurt?”

She smiled at him.

“No, ah,” she winced at the small smear on their bed, “It's just…virginity blood?”

He blinked at her for a few moments before looking at the towel she had pressed between her legs with a frown.

“Normally it is much less,” she assured him. “My mother told me a few drops were more normal, and Jane barely had any.”

Before, she hadn't bled at all, but it had hurt like crazy. Probably cause she had been young and foolish. This time hadn't hurt at all, but she was bleeding like a goddamn faucet.

“Should I call for a doctor?” He asked, looking very conflicted at her naked form. She shook his head, smiling at his clear reluctance.

“It should stop soon,” she assured him. She sighed, holding one of his hands as he sat there awkwardly. “I will feel better if you hold me,” she added.

And so he did. He shifted until he could hug her without moving her, and the two of them stayed like that for a few long minutes.

“I think it stopped,” she said after a while, feeling very reluctant to leave his arms. “Could you get me a wet cloth? I need to wipe myself.”

Fitzwilliam got off the bed, found a towel from somewhere, dipped it in water and wringed it before bringing it to her. She pulled off the towel, made sure she wasn't bleeding anymore before wiping herself down.

The entire time she was wiping herself down, Fitzwilliam looked downright horrified at the amount of blood that had left her body.

“Are you sure you're all right?” He asked her again, looking very concerned. She couldn't help but laugh. He looked a little offended at her laugh and she had to shake her head, laughing even harder.

“I am very grateful for the concern, husband. But you must get used to the sight of me bleeding. All women bleed monthly, and it simply means that we are healthy,” she had to laugh again when he deadpanned at her words.

“Healthy?” He said doubtfully.

Thankfully, he did not mention that stupid thing everyone in this time (and some even in her time) believed about period blood, that it was dirty or filthy blood getting expelled from a woman.

“A woman who does not get enough to eat for a long time, stops bleeding almost completely. This is because she has lost the ability to nurture life within her. If she has enough to eat again, she will start to bleed again,” she told him, and he seemed surprised at her words. 

“About twenty years from now, I too will stop bleeding, which will mean that I can no longer have a child. We stop bleeding when we are with a child as well. All the blood that normally gets released, will go to nurture the child. If the child is hurt, he will bleed my blood. We would be connected from the inside. This is why so many women die in childbirth,” she told him absentmindedly stroking her abdomen. 

Midwives knew a lot about childbirth, more than doctors of this time. It was why it was almost useless to have a male doctor during such a time. Without knowledge, without instruments, she couldn't imagine the amount of horrors childbirth of this time held. 

Then she shook her head, and found Fitzwilliam looking pale. 

“Are you all right?” She asked him, concerned. He closed his eyes for a moment before reaching out to hold her close. He hugged her tightly. 

“My mother got very sick after she gave birth to my sister. No one could tell what was wrong with her,” he whispered to her. “My father blamed Georgiana’s birth, since it was only after that she started growing tired and pale.”

He nuzzled into her. 

“My sister does not even remember our mother,” he confessed softly. She stroked his arm, then she reached up and pet his hair.

The thing was, there was very little she knew as well. She knew it could be some sort of postpartum depression, but it could also be many other things and she had no way to reassure him. 

So she turned in his arms and held him back.

Finally, the two of them slipped into some light clothes and cuddled under the blanket and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

The sunlight was caught in her hair, and caressed her skin. There was an easy grace in the way she hugged her pillow, lips tilted up into a smile as he twirled a strand of long brown hair.

He dropped the curl on her bare shoulder and moved onto her skin, tracing the edge of her chemise as she sighed into the touch. Her lips tilted up farther, even though her eyes did not open.

“You are making me wish I never wore this chemise in the first place, Mr Darcy,” she said, her voice sleep heavy and pleased.

“Good morning to you as well, Mrs Darcy,” he said, leaning in close to kiss her lips.

She enveloped him, and they kissed slowly, leisurely, with all the time in the world. She nuzzled into his face, sprinkling his lips and nose and cheek with gentle press of her lips.

When he pulled her into a deeper kiss, he could feel her smiling into it. Truly, she was temptation personified.

“My beautiful wife,” he whispered to her when they separated, “you are quite the mischievous lady.”

She fluttered her eyes open at the words, smiling up at him with a clearly love-struck look. He stroked her cheek and smiled back, warm and with everything he felt pouring out of his chest.

“Mrs Darcy,” he said, “how on earth did you learn to do all that?”

Elizabeth blushed deeply, opening her mouth and then closing it, before turning away to bury her face into the pillow.

“Ishawt,” she said into the pillow. He smiled at her, affectionately, stroking her shoulder.

“I did not hear you,” he said, enjoying the way she lifted her reddened face and glared at him.

“I saw it once before. A carriage broke down and they sent their coachman away. They seemed to think that the sound of the stream would muffled their voices, but it only carried it out farther,” she huffed, before planting her face into the pillow again. He laughed, tracing her reddened ear.

“How long ago was this?” He asked. She glared at him with one eye.

“5 or so springs back,” she told him, “I was innocently walking around and when I heard the sounds, I investigated and found the couple tangled with each other. I ran away, but could not find it in me to speak of it,” then she looked away at the headboard of the bed.

“Later, I…did my own research,” she muffled her words into the pillow, but he heard it. Fitzwilliam laughed.

“It seems I have gotten myself quite a wife,” he teased, and she threw out her arm to slap his chest. He grabbed it and kissed it. He remembered last night and kissed it slowly, from the tips of her fingers to her palm and wrist. He grazed his teeth against her wrist, the way he remembered enjoying, and he was gratified by the sound that left her, as she squirmed on the bed.

“Mr Darcy, you are quite wicked yourself,” she said, staring at him in a rather tempting manner.

“I learnt from my vivacious wife,” he said, ignoring a large patch of skin to kiss her shoulder. He pulled her hair off her neck, wanting to kiss her neck, only to accidentally yanking it up in his hastiness but before he could apologize, she shuddered under him, panting open mouthed as she bit on her fingers to stifle a moan.

He tugged her hair upwards again, gentler this time and kissed her bare neck. She squirmed under him again, and let out a breathy moan.

“Mrs Darcy,” he whispered against her neck, “Mrs Darcy,” he whispered again, biting into her skin, “Mrs Darcy,” he whispered and she whimpered under him.

He felt obsessed with her. He could understand now why she had kept biting him everywhere. He wished to sink his teeth inside her flesh, to bring her pleasure and hear the sounds ring through his ears.

“You're too much,” she moaned. He smiled against her skin.

It was only a matter of a moment to slide her chemise and his own clothes off. He lay back on her, and she arched and widened her hips, and let him enter her heat.

He kept her pinned down on the bed, sinking into her leisurely. He was heavier than her, but she kept shuddering and moving, but he brushed his lips to her neck and bit down.

She welcomed his touch, as he sucked her skin and lay bruises upon them, slowly and leisurely marking her skin and filling her completely.

She stopped squirming after a while, simply taking it with noises of pleasure falling from her lips. His body was heavy with sleep and a deep abiding arousal for her.

She got her hands under her, turning her head towards him and whispered against his lips, “Kiss me.”

When he drove into her again, she startled, moaning and panting against his lips temptingly. It was him who held her face up, turning it to him as he kissed her breathless. He kissed her through the tightening of her heat, sank into her until she shuddered and trembled around him. Until her cries of pleasure and the vice-grip around him sent him into a world of pleasure and heat.

“Good morning, Mr Darcy,” he woke up to the sound of his wife's voice. He blinked awake, to the sight of her still very very naked and in his bed. 

He groaned and closed his eyes and tried to forget the sight of her lit up like a goddess under the light of the sun. She laughed.

“All right. I won't tease you further,” she said getting up from the bed. 

“No,” he moaned, already missing the weight of her in the bed. He forced his eyes open and watched as his very beautiful wife opened the door to her own room, still very very naked. 

Hmm.

He should tell his valet to never enter either of their rooms. Ever. He would be fine with charging into his clothes in another room. In fact, he should turn the room on the other side of the wall into his dressing room. Less risk of anyone sighting his gorgeous wife. 

He sighed to himself, watching as she bent down to find herself another chemise to wear, this one much less sheer and exactly as thick as needed to be. Instead of calling for her maids or closing the door, however, she walked back towards him. 

“Are you enjoying the show?” She asked, a wicked smirk on her lips. 

“Yes,” he said, and was pleased to find a splattering of pink on her cheeks for his honesty. He was still finding out many new things about his dear wife.

“I enjoy the sight of my wife,” he said sitting up from the bed and her eyes immediately dropped down his chest. He had to resist the urge to hide behind a blanket. She was remarkably shameless in the way she took in the sight of him with a smug, pleased look.

Well, he already knew that from last night. He had had many acquaintances who enjoyed dalliances with widows, rich women or unmarried women who became their mistresses, and he knew how smugly they talked about this or that activity they had partaken in.

However, he had never met someone like her before. He swallowed under her steady, unwavering gaze.

It wasn't even shameless anymore. It was as if she wanted him to go crazy for her. She wanted him to forget property, to want her, to need her, just as she did him.

Elizabeth seemed to have finished looking her fill, because she walked up to him and ran one finger up his chest and neck and to his cheek. She smiled lovingly before kissing him. 

What a wild, terrifying woman he had found. 

He smiled against her lips. 

“Mrs Darcy,” he whispered between the sweet but filthy kisses, “you look ravishing.”

Elizabeth smiled brightly at him pulling away.

“Then my work here is done,” she giggled before getting away from him. “We are already late for breakfast. We mustn't be late for lunch as well.”

With that remark and a wink, she closed the door separating their rooms. 

He must have spent the next ten minutes smiling at the closed doors like a lovestruck fool.

Elizabeth absolutely loved her honeymoon.

It was absolutely wonderful to be able to be with someone, just one person, and just, like everything. It felt like the sun shone brighter and flowers smelled better.

She coaxed her husband into giving her a second tour of the house, and made sure to get her fill of kisses in every room they went to. Fitzwilliam was only too happy to indulge her. 

They spent the day in the library, where she almost got too lost in the books. And even more time kissing each other. The servants walked in on them many, many times. 

Their nights they spent getting lost in each other. 

They went to the opera on the third day, and the servants seemed to have a sigh of relief. However, it was impossible to hide their numerous hickies that they had placed all over each other, much to her maids exasperated.

She smiled every time one of the purpling marks on his neck or throat peaked out, and she absolutely felt like the smuggest peacock ever. Well, it wasn't to say she didn't have her own set of decorations, but lace and jewelry did much to hide most if not all of them.

She ended up liking the opera, though it had more to do with the way Fitzwilliam kept stroking her wrist and whispering what was happening on stage, than the actual opera. She could swear that the sole reason for this man’s existence had to be to drive her wild.

They went on walks too, and he introduced her to London in a way she had never been. After all, it wasn't as if she had ever had a house in London, nor has she had reason to spend the reason in London when she enjoyed the countryside so much.

It was on their second time to the opera, most of the time spent giggling and trying not to kiss him in front of everyone, that they had an unexpected visitor to their box during a break.

“Mr and Mrs Darcy,” said Miss Winston with a delighted, high pitched voice, “what a wonderful surprise! I was hoping it would be the two of you!”

“Miss Winston,” Fitzwilliam greeted dryly. “A pleasure.”

“It truly is!” She replied to him, before focusing on her. “Are you familiar with the tonight’s story? Would you mind if I sat here? I so dearly wish to speak with you after we met at your wedding-” she monologued for an entire five minutes without allowing anyone to speak and Elizabeth had to signal to Fitzwilliam to get rid of her.

He excused himself, leaving her to suffer for almost the rest of the break, before returning with her older brother who had also been at the wedding. He looked like he was laughing at Fitzwilliam about something, but he behaved in a gentlemanly manner in front of her and excused himself with his sister before the break ended.

“Was he laughing at you, husband?” She asked him, as the lights dimmed again. Fitzwilliam sighed. 

“You have no idea the amount of men who were at the wedding to simply catch a glimpse of who managed to tie me down,” she smirked at his wording but he seemed oblivious as he continued. 

“He was wishing me a happy marriage. He is also married, however he had to come to London for business, leaving his pregnant wife at home. He attended the wedding with his sister due to the convenience. They are having their second child now,” he told her. She hummed lightly before focusing back on the show in front of her.

Sneakily, she tipped off her shoes and ran her foot up against his leg, slowly. His hand tightened on her wrist, and he looked at her with glittering eyes thrown into focus by stray light. She didn't say anything, as she dragged her feet down and then up again. 

When it inched higher than he found acceptable, he grabbed it. He ran his hand over her stockings and garter, and hesitated only for a second, before he reached her bare skin. She looked at the stage, blushing furiously, as her husband put her leg back to its normal position but left his hand on her bare thighs, gently caressing the soft skin there. She looked away from him, so he leaned in to gently kiss her neck.

“Are you planning to leave your hand there?” She whispered to him, hoping he wasn't going to hear the breathless note under it. He squeezed her thigh, close to the shorter drawers she favored now.

“Why? Is there a problem, Mrs Darcy?” he asked her, stroking her inner thigh.

She closed her eyes for a moment, praying for strength. Why was this man starting to call her bluffs??! So okay, she knew that the theatre was a place where a lot of hanky-panky happened, but she couldn't do anything in a place so populated okay?!!

She remembered absolutely nothing about what happened after the break there, just the way he stroked her thigh and played with the bottom of her drawers, and the way he whispered what was happening on-stage into her ears like he was reading erotica. All. The. While. He. Was. Playing. With. Her. Panties.

Did she want him to touch her? She wasn't sure. Was she absolutely frustrated that he didn't? Hell yes! 

She practically stomped out and Fitzwilliam walked behind her smiling the entire time.

Ridiculous! He was ridiculous! 

How could someone of this time be more willing to do these things than someone from the 21st century! Where sex was like peanut butter! Fucking everywhere! Pun intended!

Was she being affected by Elizabeth’s senses? She considered it for half a second before discarding it. No, she just wasn't into it. But!!! It was still offensive somehow!

She raged silently on the way back home and Fitzwilliam kissed her cheek and took her coat and did his husbandly duties while she pouted about it. He one-upped her! 

Suddenly she spotted something and a wicked grin promising sweet revenge slowly spread across her face.

“Husband,” she purred in his ears, and she could see the way goosebumps rose at the back of his neck. “I have a rather wonderful idea for tonight.”

Later that night, Fitzwilliam looked both indulgent and apprehensive when she told him to close his eyes and extend his arms. 

She had only done it once before, and it had taken YouTube videos and a couple tries on her friend before she got it right. But she had gotten it right.

She tied his arms together with silk.

She made him keep his eyes closed as she sneakily tied him to the headboard and giggled when he didn't resist. When he finally opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself tied to the headboard. 

“What do you think?” She asked, only slightly nervous. He tugged at the silk entrapment gently and then a little harder. 

“It is difficult to get out of this,” he said, trying to twist his wrist around, with the slightest of frowns.

“I can take it off if you don't like it,” she shrugged. “You can also try it on me, if you like,” she winked cheekily. He stopped resisting, smiling at her. 

“No. Since you have gone through the trouble to do this, I would like to see what you have planned,” he said, tilting his head in a very endearing manner. She smiled shyly, before going up to kiss him gently on the lips.

“If you're sure. There is no need to try something you feel unpleasant about,” she told him. Though she was lightly caressing his calf as she said it.

“I am comfortable,” he said, and he looked it too, surprisingly. She narrowed her eyes. Why did she have a feeling like he was getting sex tips from his friends? How did someone like him, suddenly get so comfortable with doing kinky stuff?

How long had it been since they were regularly hooking up? About one and a half week, just about. She knew that he had left home on one occasion to visit a friend during the first week.

She crawled up his body, slumping over him and stared suspiciously at his face. He smiled and kissed her cheeks and nose and lips, which she had left in easy reach.

After a while of being kissed, she pulled away with a slight pout.

“Did you talk to someone about all this?” She asked directly, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt. “During that first week when you went to visit a friend?”

She might not have noticed before because they mostly did things in an impromptu manner, but now that she was suspicious, she wanted to get to the bottom of it.

Fitzwilliam flushed red, arms jerking once against his restraints in surprise. She pulled back, surprised as well. She guessed right? Wow, her relationship senses had never been this good before!

“I did, once,” he got out, awkwardly. He was still tied up, so she could see why he felt like he was in a difficult position. To put him a bit more at ease (and also make it a little difficult) she kept unbuttoning his shirt, kissing every new patch of skin she found.

She nuzzled into his chest hair and giggled at the ticklish sensation. She looked up to find Fitzwilliam smiling faintly, so she raised a brow at him.

“So? What did you speak about?” She asked, and tried not to smile when he went back to speaking obediently.

“I just asked how to feel more at ease, and he simply said to focus on your pleasure, if I ever felt unsure,” he said, his blue eyes were bright in the candlelight. “I always feel good whenever you are pleased.”

For a moment, she felt flustered. And flattered. But the words registered and she frowned. 

“Unsure? Have we ever done anything you did not like?” She asked him, climbing up on his chest to gently stroking his cheek. He shook his head.

“I enjoyed everything,” he assured her, kissing her palm. But she still frowned. He sighed at her.

“I meant if I was unsure what you liked,” he said, looking into her eyes. She blinked in surprise. Weren't they always doing what she liked?

He smiled. 

“For example,” he suddenly leaned up and nuzzled her neck, he placed a gentle kiss on her neck and she had to resist the urge to bare her throat to him, “you enjoy this.”

She swallowed.

He kissed his way up her neck, and she closed her eyes at the feel of it. His lips touched the shell of her ears, “you enjoy being teased.”

She moaned.

He hooked a leg around hers and flipped them so she was the one below him, pinned down by the weight of him. Her loose hair fell around her face gracefully and his shirt swung open. They watched each other for a long moment, admiring the beauty in front of their eyes.

“You enjoy the sight of me longing for your touch,” he said lustfully, and yet kissed her nose affectionately, then he leaned into her space, breathing against her lips for a few long seconds without actually touching her. When she tilted her head a few centimetres up to kiss him, he pulled away with a smile.

“I enjoy teasing you as well,” he whispered. “I enjoy watching you.”

His hips grind down on hers and she gasped aloud, at the hard length she felt against her stomach. She could feel an echoing throb between her legs. 

“You enjoy my pleasure,” he told her huskily.

He leaned in and licked her neck, ending with a nibble at an erogenous zone. She shuddered under him, pressing her legs together to relieve the pressure.

“I enjoy your pleasure as well, Elizabeth,” he told her. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to bite on his ear.

“I also like the way you say my name,” she whispered, breathing harshly into his ear, and he groaned against her neck, before biting down. 

“You enjoy the pain,” he bit back, and her entire body shivered.

“I enjoy you talking like this,” she defended and Fitzwilliam smirked against her cheek, kissing her slowly and she opened up to his touch, letting him do whatever he wanted. 

They kissed each other slowly. After only these few days, they could map every part of each other beautifully. Even with their burning desire for the other, they took their time being thorough.

She dropped her head back, smiling and watching him above her, stroking his lips, now so much more used to kissing her.

“I'm still not certain,” she told him. “You enjoy letting me take my pleasure from you, but you pulled back from doing anything today at the theatre.”

“Elizabeth, were you not unwilling at the theatre today?” He said her bluntly, and she blinked in surprise.

“A little,” she admitted. “I would not have minded if we…did something, but I would rather not show how I look in the moment, to anyone but you.”

“That is what he told me,” Fitzwilliam said, kissing her fingertips with affection and pride. “As long as I am aware of what you are enjoying and what you are not, I would not go astray. After tying me up, you asked me if I was all right with it and you offered yourself up as well, which is a promise I will definitely collect on,” he added, kissing her once before pulling away laughing.

“But it was simply that,” he said.

She looked up at the man who was studying the concept of consent and the difference between “enthusiastic consent” and “okay-consent” and wanted to kiss him very badly.

So she did.

The era had a very bad understanding of consent. Her mother had literally told her to “not resist”, and informed consent, even in medical terms, was very skewered. They had no concept of marital rape either.

In this terribly backward understanding of the word ‘consent’, this man had understood the minute differences in her mood and never crossed the line, no matter how blurred it seemed.

“Mr Darcy,” she said, kissing his lips again, “I am a very lucky woman to have met you.”

“Mrs Darcy,” he smiled at her, “I am a very lucky man to have met you.”

Still, after confirming their affections, she did happen to see how awkwardly he was holding his hands above her and they had to flip back around to stop her poor husband's hands from falling off.

She did climb on top of him, after that, dropping her chemise over his face with a teasing “oops” and giggled as he groaned between her thighs.

She kissed, sucked and nibbled at each and every one of his fingers, only doing her duty as his wife and making sure he had not lost sensation in any of them, of course. While he behaved like a miscreant, attempting to put his beautiful nose where it certainly did not belong. 

Every time he tried however, she had to admit that she enjoyed pushing him down. He satisfied himself with biting into her inner thighs, and sucking plentiful bruises to make her moan. However, she still didn't sink down on him. 

Instead she pulled back from his wet and well nibbled fingers and teasingly pulled up the hem to expose herself.

“Mr Darcy, do you remember promising not to impregnate me so soon?” She whispered teasingly. She sank her own finger inside her and watched as his lips fell open, going wider the deeper she sank her finger. 

“I do,” he replied with difficulty. 

“I am rather fertile right now,” she said with a brief caress over her stomach. She had actually stopped being bothered by the thought of being impregnated already, but she did enjoy teasing him with something he could not have.

She would still rather give herself more time, but even if she fell pregnant, it would be a happy occasion. 

“So you cannot come inside me,” she told him, smirking, and then she dropped her chemise and turned around. When she peaked over her shoulder, she had to giggle at how offended the man looked.

It was as if she had promised him a toy and then taken it away when it was right in front of him. The frustration of a man who had spent the last few days having hot, heavy sex and was currently being refused.

She climbed over his body and down to his hips, she grinded down on the bulge of his pants, looking over her shoulder to enjoy the sight of him with his eyes closed and his mouth dropped open in a silent moan.

She giggled, and he opened his eyes, staring at her hungrily as she bent forward and put her hands on his knees, rolling her hips to put on a pretty show for him. His pants were positively drenched between them, but she didn't bother to remove it.

She enjoyed the sound of his moans, and the way he rolled his hips with her, taking whatever she wanted to give. When she pulled away again, the groan of sheer frustration that left him sent shivers down her spine.

Well, it was a good thing she had no plans to untie him until she relieved his frustration. She smirked, slowly peeling him pants off him and licking her lips at how delicious her man certainly was. 

She got comfortable on her knees, putting her face on his hip bones to smile up at him, thereby completely ignoring the part of him desperately seeking her attention.

Fitzwilliam was panting, his arms straining against the silk each time he forgot about its presence. He made such a beautiful picture.

The sight of his arms, strong and veiny, was beautiful. The look of desire in his face, his blown pupils, his beautiful bitten lips. His bare neck and chest, littered in her marks. She savored every inch of him.

“Mr Darcy,” she teased, “you seem rather desperate. Is something the matter?” She asked him. 

She turned her face and blinked at his intimidating length right beside her face, she used one finger to trace a vein, biting her lip to stifle a sound at the noise that tore through his throat. 

“Yes,” he panted, when she got her finger off him.

“How concerning, sir,” she told him, mock-concerned. “Do you require any help?”

“Yes,” he said, thighs tightening around her, before he relaxed again when she massaged it. “Yes, I seem to require your help,” he gritted out. She smiled at him, shifting a little so she could comfortably massage his thighs, occasionally dragging a nail teasingly towards him. She closed her eyes, savoring the sound of his moans.

“Mr Darcy,” she said, and he could hear the desire in her voice, “my hands seem quite busy. Whatever shall I do?” She breathed against the leaking tip and he couldn't respond for a long moment, his thighs quivering desperately under her hands. 

When he finally lifted his head to look at her, his eyes looked pitch back, a thin ring of blue around it.

She had never seen a more beautiful sight in her life.

“Use your mouth,” he said, low and gutteral and absolutely, beyond ruined.

And so she did.

He was very quiet afterwards. 

She gently climbed up the bed from his panting figure and untied him. She massaged his wrists, wishing she had some cream to ease the reddened marks around his wrists.

She kissed them gently, instead, trying to soothe the marks. Fitzwilliam was looking at her, silently, letting her massage his wrists as she liked.

“Are you all right?” She asked him, holding his hands in hers.

“Yes,” he told her, but there was still this…look on his face. It made her feel a little uneasy, but not quite uncomfortable either. 

He turned their hands around, holding her smaller hands in his. Then he roved over her shoulder and to her back, pulling him into his arms. She sighed into his warmth, feeling relaxed as he ran his hand up and down her back for a few months. 

She almost got fooled into thinking that they were about to go to sleep, when he pinned her down and used the abandoned silk rope to quickly tie her hands up. 

“I think Mrs Darcy has forgotten a very important fact- that she is not the only one who grew up in the countryside,” he whispered into her ears, and every inch of her quaked from the wrath she could feel in his voice. 

…She also happened to remember that she had also learnt the exact same roping technique as Elizabeth, though it had been on a horse then. She had simply not related it to the bed until now.

Son of goddamn bitch.

She wanted to bang her head against a metaphorical wall, for thinking she had gotten away with it so easily.

“Mrs Darcy,” he whispered darkly, and she whimpered at the sound, stomach clenching.

He pulled away from her smiling and she realized that while he looked calmer than before, his pupils were still wider than normal. She swallowed nervously. 

He didn't say anything watching her face as she strained against the ties nervously under his gaze. His eyes drifted down, to her heaving chest and then he smoothing his hand from the ties and down her body, touching her like she was his. 

He didn't stop anywhere, in particular. Not her chest or hips or even between her legs. No, he caressed his hands down the entirety on her body, as if mapping every inch of her, and then he lifted the hem of her chemise.

Inch by painful inch, as she panted under his attention. Even he has reached her chin, uncovering the entirety of her body, he gently pulled out her lip from between her teeth, and then pulled the dress up further up. 

She made a helpless sound when he dropped it over her eyes, letting the majority of it fall over her head to prevent it from falling onto her nose and mouth. 

“Fitzwilliam?” she called out, confused, and warm, familiar lips met her. He kissed her thoroughly until she forgot that she was tied up and blindfolded to their bed.

“All right?” He asked her, lips brushing the shell of her ears. She pressed her legs together and nodded.

“Yes,” she breathed out. 

He pulled away. 

With her body completely open for his perusing pleasure, he watched her as she squirmed under his gaze, unable to see him back. He touched her occasionally, holding her leg still, holding the side of her chest as he kissed between her breasts. He flicked her nipple, watching the way she jerked in surprise and then massaged her hips.

She could practically feel him smiling down at her as he teased her with his finger, trailing it down from her chin to her crotch, and yet not even touching her properly.

If this was her punishment…then what a delightful punishment this was. She just wished he would touch her more. 

As if he had heard her silent request, he followed the line made by his finger with his mouth. She trembled under his attention, moaning as he kissed each swell of her breast, before continuing on. He parted her legs, before kissing her softly there. He brushed his lips to each of the swelling on either side of her wetness and flicked his tongue out. 

They moaned at the same time and she trembled in her place. 

“Husband,” she breathed out, “please.”

“Do you want me?” He asked, kissing her there again and she spread her legs wider, moaning when she felt him licking his lips.

“Yes,” she cried out. She screamed when he bit into her thigh instead. He smiled against her skin there, and she shivered.

He ran his hands up her body again, letting her wrap her legs above his waist. She ground down on his abs and her mouth dropped open as she moaned loudly. She didn't even care how it looked, it just felt so fucking good.

She yanked on the silken tie and ground against him desperately, tipped her head back at the sensation spreading through her from between her legs. Fitzwilliam bent over, kissing her holy, swallowing her wild moans as she continued to take her pleasure.

He kept a hand on her waist, kept her grinding on his abs and she felt the peak of her pleasure approach. She panted against his lips, needy and wanting, as her toes curled and she came with a loud cry. 

Fitzwilliam dropped her legs down gently, and ran his up and down her sides. She sighed against her arm, waiting for him to untie her.

Instead, he nosed his way down her body, kissing her hip bones before spreading her legs again. She barely had time to widen her eyes before he set upon her- only this time with her mouth. 

He knew what she liked and he made sure she knew it too. He kept her open with his hands and descended down hungrily on that one spot. 

He kept her completely pinned down, unable to even roll her hips or pull him in. Not only could she not see this delicious sight of him, she was denied any control too. He controlled the pace, dragging his teeth against it, before he lay delicate kisses around it and then went below to tease more of her sopping wetness.

And then!

He had the audacity to completely ignore her, kissing up to her breast to take one in his mouth, teasing her while she cried out desperately for his touch below.

“Mrs Darcy,” he said, low and gravelly, “did you not want my touch?”

“I do,” she sobbed out to him. She could feel his smile when he went back to her breasts and she had the overwhelming urge to tie him up and ride his face until he choked and died under her. 

She would have laughed if she wasn't so close to tears. How did this man wind her up so well? She wanted to get him inside her, she wanted to claw at his skin and fuck if she got pregnant, she'd be fucking delighted to have his child.

Thankfully, she said none of it out loud, and he left her peaked, wet nipple to kiss her, filthy and wet and messy. They had never kissed like that before. She had never gotten like this before, in front of him. 

She was crying and drooling and he was kissing her so perfectly.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him so fucking much.

She kissed him back, wet and filthy and messy, with the taste of each other in their mouths, and so goddamn in love it hurt. 

“Now get between my legs before I never talk to you again,” she said when she pulled away, as if the kiss was a whole ass in depth conversation about their feelings, and he let out an actual laugh before saying, “yes ma’am”.

She always knew he was a momma’s boy, she thought smugly before he took full advantage of his free fingers and sank them inside her, curling them just right. Before she could get used to it, he set his mouth exactly where he needed to be.

Tied up and pinned down, completely at his mercy in many more ways than just one, he gave her pleasure. Again and again until she was crying for mercy. 

He occasionally came to kiss her, to let her taste herself before sinking down in her until she was writhing against the restraints, and soaking through half the bed. 

He only stopped when she was finally too overwhelmed. Then he untied her and curled up around her, holding her tightly to him as she shivered through the oversensitivity in his arms. 

Even though the bed was messy and she was naked, and she wanted to talk to her husband…inside his tight embrace, she fell into the deepest sleep she had had since she became Elizabeth Bennet.

Chapter Text

“You are a terrible, wonderful human being and I love you,” was the first thing she said when she woke up the next morning. 

Fitzwilliam laughed at her.

So the second thing she said was,”You're not allowed to touch me today,” and then she limped back to her room with the broken tatters of her dignity.

Of course, her threat was completely useless because the first thing she saw when she came out was Fitzwilliam offering to escort her to breakfast. Then when she sat down, he kissed her cheek and by then, she had completely forgotten what she had threatened him with. 

It was only after almost half the day had passed that she remembered that she had said it, and she had to gasp aloud at the utter audacity of the man.

When she sat up right to stare at the bald faced lying liar who she married, Fitzwilliam looked up from his perusement of the day's paper, pausing the massage he was giving her feet, to look at her curiously. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Is something the matter?” He asked. 

“No,” she said, leaning back comfortably on the couch and went back to reading the book in her hand. Then she couldn't help but laugh into her book, much to her husband's confusion. 

There were a total of three self defence techniques she had ever learnt in her life. 

The first was a basic. How to make an asshole regret the day they grabbed you from the back. 

The second was if an asshole tried to choke her with a rope. Less convenient, all things considered, but still possible to at least delay dying for a while. 

The third was if an idiot charged at her from the front, with a knife in their hands.

She didn't quite know any idiots who had done that in the modern times, but god could she place at least one idiot who did. It was that plus sheer dumb luck that she saw him coming at all. 

First was the slice of her flesh with the goddamn knife, only distracted from its goal due to her flailing.

The second was when she actually managed to grab and twist the man's hand, dropping the knife, and he kicked her instead. 

The third was when the coachman turned to her, startled at the sound and jumped to help her. It took him and another stranger to pin the man down while she stepped away from the mess, trying not to breathe too hard. 

She quickly used her dress to put pressure on the wound and thanked every star in the sky for the necessities of corset in this day and time. Or stay, as it was called now. It wasn't a corset until Victorian era…or something. She wasn't quite sure. 

“Madam! Madam! Are you hurt?” asked a man, and she turned away from him to walk back to the Darcy House.

“Don't let him get away,” she told him, and he looked so offended that she wanted to pick up her shoe and throw it at her face. “That man just attacked Mrs Darcy of Pemberly. Do. Not. Let him get away,” she emphasized.

The man’s eyes widened and he turned just as the man hit her coachman in the nose and shrugged off the stranger who had tried to help. The man practically jumped on her attacker, knocking him down again until her coachman wrapped him up in rope. The madman looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. 

“You!” He said, “You married him?!” He started laughing almost hysterically.

“Mr Wickham,” she said, blinking at the terrible state of him. She took in the sight of the man from head to toe. It wasn't that he wasn't dressed properly- he was. But she had never seen a man go through such a drastic change before. 

His face looked haggard, his eyes were sunken, cheeks hollowed and it was obvious that he wasn't as healthy as he used to be.

…What the hell did they do to him after he was transferred???

“What happened to you?” She asked, with shocked wide eyes.

“Didn’t you hear Mr Darcy transfer me?” He spit at her feet and her coachman took a swing at him. He cackled with a bloody mouth.

Maybe…there were some valid reasons for Fitzwilliam not wanting to take active action against Mr Wickham.

If him deciding to send the man away after reporting him had caused such a drastic change to happen to Mr Wickham…she couldn't imagine what would have happened if he actually maintained a grudge against him.

They seemed to have bullied him severely in the militia, and because he had bought the commision due to necessity, he was unable to stop simply because he did not want to. He stayed as long as he could, paid back enough to allow him to sell off his commision and came to Fitzwilliam.

Then she narrowed her eyes.

Did he come to threaten him or talk to him? Or both? Did he actually mean to stab her or was he attempting to threaten her?

To be honest, she didn't know. She saw the knife, and tried to get away from him. She didn't know what he meant to do.

“Mrs Darcy! Oh, Mrs Darcy!” cried out Mrs Harold, her husband ran behind her along with a few maids. She could see Claire running towards her, her eyes big and scared.

“It’s Mr Wickham,” she said immediately, “please make sure he doesn't run away. And please call for Mr Darcy. Claire, could you help me inside?”

She made it as far as the hallway, before she almost collapsed. The pain was hitting her hard, and it wasn’t feeling very good.

Abdominal injury. Come on, Lizzy, think positive!

Well, abdominal stabs were supposed to be one of the most slow and painful ways to die.

“The sitting room, okay?” She told Claire, wincing as she hobbled into the closest room with a couch. She dropped on it, and kept the pressure on the wound.

Thankfully, it was quite likely that it was shallow. Annoyingly, it still hurt like a bitch.

“Claire, I need you to do exactly what I tell you to do, okay?” She smiled at the girl. Claire nodded obediently. “Good. Now get me a bowl with boiled water. In a pan, boil some linen or common strips and bring the entire pan here after it's done boiling. Also, get me some brandy.”

The moment Claire left, the people who had entered behind inched towards her.

“Did you call for a doctor?” She asked them.

“Yes, Mrs Darcy,” one said, her face looking a little pale as she saw the way Elizabeth was holding onto a large splotch of blood.

“All right. Make sure Mr Darcy comes in before the doctor. I will need to take off my underclothes and I will not do it without my husband here. The doctor is not even allowed inside this room without Mr Darcy, is that understood?” She told them.

The maids looked at each other, and hesitated.

“Is that understood?” She repeated.

“Yes, Mrs Darcy,” she said.

“Good,” she leaned back, still holding onto her wound. She sure freaking hoped she didn't need stitches or she had to argue with a doctor about boiling everything before even touching her with a 10-foot pole. Considering they didn't even boil the water they drank when they could have…it was fair to say that she did not have a large amount of trust in the people they called doctors in this day and time.

Also…her stomach was starting to really hurt.

“Mrs Darcy! I brought the brandy! The water and linen are boiling!” Claire came in soon and told her.

“Good,” she told her, “Now go bring me some honey.”

“Y-yes, ma'am!” Claire said obediently.

“Everyone else can leave until Mr Darcy returns,” she waved them off.

She took low, steady breaths and tried to think of anything else. They didn't have anesthetics either, did they? If she needed stitches, she would need to do it while she felt everything.

Son of a gun.

She hadn't even gotten stitches in her time! Why the hell did she need to get injured in a place with stupidly backward medical knowledge? They didn't even know what germs were! If she died from this stupid wound, she was going to stab the fucking king and make them discover a while world of pain until they goddamn invented anesthetics.

She didn't know how people dealt with broken bones because every single pinch of pain from her stomach due to her breathing was getting super annoying, super fast.

She took a swing of the brandy and wished she could just get drunk and forget about this. 

“Elizabeth!” Fitzwilliam rushed through the door and dropped to his knees in front of her, hands hovering around her stomach. He swallowed nervously. “Is it bad? I heard Wickham attacked you.”

He looked so sincerely concerned about her that she wanted to smile. Well, she did smile at him, reaching out with her non-bloody hand to stroke his hair. 

“I will be fine. It didn't go very deep, I suspect,” she gave him a wry smile. “Could I ask you to look and confirm for me?”

He nodded tightly, and she took her slightly bloodied hand off her abdomen. She pulled open the tear in her clothes to show the cut.

“How is it? Will I need stitches?” She asked, finding a tinge of humor in the doctor-patient roleplay. But Fitzwilliam looked at the injury seriously with a frown. 

“I believe you are correct, and it will not need stitches. However, it is rather wide. It will leave a scar,” she let out a sigh of relief from the depths of her heart. She was going to actually pray to a god after she was healed up more. 

Actually, wasn't there actually a Greek god called Asclepius, who the snake and cross of medicine was based on? Huh, if she actually remembered his name at this moment, then it was a sign to pray to that God at least.

Sure enough, doctors were right. The best cure was to never get hurt in the first place. 

She was so happy, she forgot that they had called for a doctor after all.

After stopping the doctor from pouring vinegar or spirits onto her wound and God knows what, she convinced the man to sit to the side and watch. Then she had Claire wash her own hands with soap before cleaning the blood with the cooled water and the clean and boiled strips of linen.

She had her clean it with the brandy again because literally ever movie with a Russian in it had told her that alcohol was definitely was sterilizer. Then she put honey on top of the cut before plastering on a few strips of linen on top.

Honey, because her mom used to tell her that she had grown up putting honey in her cuts and it always helped. Internet had proved her right and she thanked her mother for insisting on putting honey on her every little cut during childhood for it. 

The doctor tipped his hat and didn't protest to being politely kicked off after some more basic advice.

Then she had to be carried up to her room, and it was her room, where she got a change of clothes without the bandages being displaced off of her, and Claire burst into tears.

Elizabeth spent an exhausting half hour calming her down before she collapsed into her own deep sleep.

She woke up to Fitzwilliam laying beside her in the bed. He was a distance away though, so she discreetly shifted closer to him until they were touching.

Seeing that he hadn't moved, she took his hand and pulled it up under her head. She kept her own arm near her abdomen, in case he tried to hug her in his sleep and dozed off again.

Fitzwilliam opened his eyes after a moment, staring at her face carefully. He didn't move at all, just looked at the way her lips tilted up as she relaxed and she snuggled closer to his lax hand. The way she sighed, and took shallow to not aggravate her injury.

It was after a long while, when she had already fallen into a deeper sleep, that Elizabeth’s maid entered the room after knocking gently. She quietly picked up her chemise and replaced the bandage the way Elizabeth had told her to, before bowing to him and leaving. 

Elizabeth stirred again, and the moment opened her eyes, looked for him, found him and smiled.

“Hello, my love,” she said, and her words sounded like music to his ears. He carefully leaned closer, kissing her lips softly. “What a beautiful day,” she remarked against his lips, still smiling.

“Yes, it is,” he agreed with her. She snuggled with his captured hands. 

“How did it go, yesterday?” she asked just as quietly, blinking up at him drowsily.

“Wickham will be going to debtor jail,” he told her.

“Sounds quite reasonable,” she said. “Should we call Georgiana back then?”

“I will write her a letter,” he said, stroking her hair leisurely, as if he had nothing but time.

“What about food? I feel a bit peckish, shall we eat?” She asked, quirking up her eyebrow. He petted her hair and then got up.

“I will call for food to be brought to you,” he said, before walking out the door directly. He returned moments later and lay back down on his side, in the same position, and slowly stroked her hair.

“I feel as if I am about to be spoiled,” she smiled up at him, but Fitzwilliam said nothing in reply.

“All right, I'll ask. What is it?” She asked him.

“I worried for you. When I was told Wickham had attacked you on the street, I thought my heart would stop. No matter the treatment he received, I could not bear to imagine him retaliating by attacking you for it,” he told her quietly.

“It was a shallow wound,” she reassured him. “I managed to get him to drop the knife and the coachman got him after that.”

“There was a bruise on your thigh,” he said.

“He kicked me there when he dropped the knife,” she retorted.

“Elizabeth,” he almost scolded. She flattened her lips.

“Should I perhaps learn some martial arts? A small pistol would also be helpful,” she suggested. And the almost invisible frustration drained from his features.

“I will make sure of it,” he promised her. 

“In Pemberly,” she told him, narrowing her eyes. He finally cracked a smile at her words. 

“In Pemberly,” he agreed.