UPDATE: Since a couple of people were asking about another story from Darcy's POV, I decided to write this scene from his perspective. I really enjoyed writing this one, so any feedback is appreciated :)

As Fitzwilliam Darcy strode down the main hall of his Pemberley residence, his mind flitted between thoughts of his dear friend Bingley and Elizabeth. His recent encounter with Bingley in London had not done any favours for Darcy's state of mind. He had falsely believed that putting distance between his friend and the young Jane Bennett would greatly benefit both parties. After all, Jane had seemed indifferent to Bingley, while Bingley fell more and more in love with the blonde beauty as each day passed. Her lack of reciprocation and his willingness to so freely give away his heart were both factors that convinced Darcy that an advantageous marriage would be simply disastrous.

However, he never could have predicted Elizabeth's response when he had confessed his love for her on that stormy day last April. She revealed, rather scathingly, that Jane Bennett did in fact share similar feelings for Bingley and that her true character was seldom showed to those around her.

Despite the rain-soaked clothes and feverish glow to her cheeks, Elizabeth was devastatingly beautiful to Darcy in that moment. While anger quickly took hold of him as she shouted accusation after accusation, he could not help but move his body close to hers. There was little space between their bodies, with electricity seemingly cracking between them. If Darcy had simply leaned forward, just a few inches, his lips would be so close to hers… For a moment he was unaware, or perhaps did not care, that they were arguing. He simply wished to know what her lips would feel like on his. That illusion, however, was soon shattered with the next words that came sharply from her lips:

"From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

Never had someone said something so biting, so filled with venom, than in the moment that Elizabeth had spoken honestly with him. Those very words brought Darcy to an utter stand still. All of the remarks, the rebuttals and comments he had on the tip of his tongue simply vanished, for all he felt now was sorrow. Without thinking, he leaned forward to Elizabeth.

"Forgive me, madam, for taking up so much of you time." And with that, he left Elizabeth to her own thoughts, unsure if he were to ever see her again.

It had been several months since that encounter, and yet thoughts of Elizabeth still flooded his mind with every waking moment. He wondered if he would ever be free of Elizabeth's charms.

As he moved further down the hallway, Darcy swore he could hear a familiar tune floating from Georgiana's pianoforte.

Impossible, Darcy thought, I was just with my sister in the study.

Thinking that one of the housekeepers had decided to busy themselves with the pianoforte, Darcy slowly approached the room from which the tune played. While he could not place it, Darcy was sure he had heard that tune before.

Just as he went to reach for the door handle to chastise whoever was using his sister's pianoforte, it suddenly occurred to him why that tune was so familiar.

It had been the same tune that Elizabeth had played at Rosing's. While she was by no means a skilled player, the concentrated look in her eyes when her fingers drifted along the keys intrigued and enraptured Darcy.

Impossible.

Pushing the door open, Darcy saw Elizabeth at the pianoforte, her fingers moving deftly and creating a more harmonious tune than the previous time she had played. Her back was facing him and while the door creaked slightly as it opened, she appeared completely immersed in the tune that his presence went undetected by her.

That is, until Darcy took a single step forward. The notes swiftly came to a halt and Elizabeth all but jumped out of the chair she was sitting in.

When she looked back to see who had found her, her eyes widened at the sight of him. He was sure his own expression mirrored hers, as Darcy tried to make sense of her presence at Pemberley.

"I…I am so sorry to intrude." He wanted desperately to tell her that it was okay, that he did not mind seeing her, even under such awkward and surprising circumstances. He wanted to tell her that seeing her was like seeing the sun rising for the first time; that all it took was her presence to alleviate any worries that consumed Darcy.

Instead, he simply replied: "That piece…you played that for my aunt at Rosing's." He was unsure why he had mentioned that, or even if it was relevant at that moment.

Lizzy only nodded at Darcy, leaving him unsure of what to say. He wanted to keep talking to her; to ask her so many of the burning questions that had accumulated since they had last conversed.

"It sounds beautiful. The song you just played." And it truly did. Even someone as accomplished as his sister had never played a melody so charged with emotion. Darcy wondered what place Elizabeth was playing from, and the thoughts that were going through her head when she had decided to play the piece.

"I had no right…" She protested.

"I have taken no offense." He assured her. "Such an instrument is simply begging to be played."

Elizabeth appeared rather ashamed, as she no longer made eye contact with him. She kept her head bowed rather low, with her hands firmly clasped behind her back.

Just as Darcy was about to propose she join him for lunch with his sister, Elizabeth bowed abruptly then rushed past him. There was still so much left unsaid, so much he needed to convey to her.

Running back down the halls from whence he came, Darcy feared that he had already lost her again. There were so many exists, so many places she could retreat to. He did not know what he would say to her if he were to find her once more, nor if he had anything to say at all. He simply had to reach her.

As he neared the front entrance, he saw the door had been left slightly ajar. Once outside, he called out to Elizabeth and watched as she steadily came to a halt at her carriage.

When she turned to face him, she looked as if she might break into tears.

"They said that the house was open to visitors…I had no idea." She tried to smile but from Darcy's view, it did not seem genuine. Had he frightened her so badly that she could barely stand to be in his presence?

"Let me accompany you back to the village."

She shook her head. "I'm very fond of walking."

And with that, she turned away from him once more and walked past the carriage, toward the village. Every instinct was telling Darcy to call out to her, to say something else.

Instead, he simply watched her walk away, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to stop loving Elizabeth Bennett.