They sat in companionable silence for a moment until the intensity of Mr. Darcy's gaze pressed Elizabeth to speak.

"I have another question."

"Ask away."

"Before, when you were saying how irrational and absurd I was-" Though Elizabeth said this with more than a pinch of impishness, Mr. Darcy was startled into serious apology.

"I should not have-"

"Mr. Darcy, please, hush." Though Elizabeth's tone chastised, her smirk gave her away and Darcy was put at ease for a moment.

"You said I reminded you of Lady Catherine. What did you mean by that?"

It was a brief moment. Darcy's posture and jaw tensed as he remembered his confrontation with his aunt.

"Mr. Darcy . . . you said I could ask you anything, but I see I have troubled you. It was not my intention."

They sat in a far less companionable silence while Darcy decided exactly how much viciousness to share.

"When my aunt heard of your injury and my involvement, she expressed similar criticisms of my actions."

"She thought it was improper for you to carry me here?" Mr. Darcy heard subtle concern overtake the teasing in Elizabeth's voice. She genuinely was worried about her reputation. She was in every way the opposite of all the horrible things Aunt Catherine had spewed about her.

"Pray forgive my directness, but what did she say?"

"Hateful lies that are not worth repeating."

" , you once told me you abhorred false pretenses." Though each of them blushed at that unfortunate recollection, Elizabeth pressed on. "You need not concern yourself with sparing my feelings, and I implore you to tell me the full truth so that I may know what I am up against." Darcy decided that as difficult as it would be to repeat his aunt's words, Elizabeth should be prepared.

"Lady Catherine claimed that you put yourself in harm's way on purpose in order to force a compromise."

The absurdity of being accused for something so wholly contradictory to her every intention shook Elizabeth into bewilderment, which for a half-moment allowed her to forget the awkwardness of the conversation.

"I fear your Aunt missed her calling as a novelist. Such tales would put our dear Mrs. Radcliffe to shame . . . That a woman would seriously risk her health on the off chance that a man would come along and save her! It is too ridiculous! Are you certain you did not misunderstand her?"

Mr. Darcy remembered all the awkwardness for both of them, and could not meet Elizabeth's eye as he continued. "There was no mistaking her meaning, and I fear she was entirely serious. She was made to believe that her parson, your cousin Mr. Collins, had previously offered for your hand." Here he glanced up to confirm, and at Elizabeth's blush of acknowledgement, grimaced and continued. "My Aunt somehow made it seem that you refused Mr. Collins' offer because you had 'set your cap' at me . . . She thinks you are an artful fortune hunter and that your aim in nearly killing yourself was to become the next Mrs. Darcy . . . "

Though Mr. Darcy usually preferred Elizabeth's laughter over any other sound, hearing it now, protruding from the suggestion that she could have desired to marry him, cut him to the core. He knew she meant no harm in it, that the hollow, desperate sound arose from extreme discomfort, disbelief, and perhaps fear for her reputation, but that knowledge did little to sooth his immediate hurt. He heard her laugh at the idea of being his wife. She was so wholly opposed to him that the mention of a fictitious connection with his name drove her to her current state of unmitigated shock. The last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry. At the memory of her words, he responded coldly.

"Believe me, Miss Bennet, the irony of these accusations was not lost on me. I warn you not to take my aunt so lightly, she is not above slandering your name or reputation."

Elizabeth sobered at the sudden change in his demeanor. She felt hurt at the loss of his kindness and then foolish for her hurt feelings. Why should she care if he was distant, cold, or demeaning? He was still Mr. Darcy, despite whatever tenuous companionship they might have shared for the past hour or so. It mattered not at all, and if Mr. Darcy, with his exhausting emotions, had settled on haughty indifference, so would she. "Is there a reason in particular that your Aunt intends to ruin me? Or is it common for her to besmirch house guests?"

"She sees you as a threat."

"If Lady Catherine is threatened by anyone who does not immediately succumb to her whims, or who even slightly challenges her self-imported authority over their lives . . ."

Darcy, recovering from his perceived rejection, attempted to make amends. "I think, Miss Bennet, you do not give yourself enough credit. Your impact was anything but slight; I doubt my aunt has ever been treated the way she was by you."

Unfortunately for both of them, Mr. Darcy, though not an incapable pupil, was far from mastering the art of teasing. What he meant as an admiration of Elizabeth's wit and admonishment of his Aunt's imposing nature was delivered with flat timing and more severity than intended. Combined with his recent display of disregard, the effect of his comment was one of censure rather than praise of Elizabeth's actions.

For her part, Elizabeth was reminded of the last time she heard 's reproach against her. At his proposal, he had chastised her situation in life and had been merciless in his criticism of her family. To hear him now admonish her treatment of his family member awakened Elizabeth's desire for justice. Despite her extreme frustration and the tightness in the back of her throat, Elizabeth very nearly managed a steady, light tone.

"It is difficult for me to believe, Mr. Darcy, that any member of your family could consider me a threat. In my understanding, to be a threat necessitates some acknowledgement, regard, or respect from those threatened. Those of your family in my acquaintance have taken pains to communicate how decidedly inferior I am, and surely a lowly being cannot be respected or feared."

She smiled in challenge and Darcy paled. How had the conversation gone so far away from him? He felt her judgment, that to her he was equally as self-important as his aunt, that he too had made her feel inferior. A wash of shame mingled with some defensive anger over his neck and cheeks. Did she insinuate that he had no respect for her? How could she think he would want to marry a woman he did not respect?

"My Aunt Catherine is hardly a fair representation of my entire family."

"No, indeed, and as I said, I base my judgment on all of your kin that I have had the pleasure of meeting, and I will attempt to make a balanced assessment. Though Lady Catherine De Bourgh has publicly bemoaned my prospects, situation, and education, she did attempt to improve on the latter by allowing me access to an instrument in her servant's quarters. I do wonder though that a lady of such discernment should be appalled by my manner towards herself when it must, in her esteem, be only as wanting as every other aspect of my personhood."

Had the candle been a bit brighter, Elizabeth might have noticed how Mr. Darcy seemed to physically reject the notion that there was fault in any aspect of her personhood.

"But your aunt is not the only one who went out of their way to remind me of my deficiencies. Her daughter has never spoken ill of me directly, but has thwarted my every attempt at civil conversation with haughtiness. She has also, on multiple occasions, ignored mine and Charlotte's discomfort in favor of her own convenience, even going so far as to make us stand in the cold for half an hour because she refused to come inside and out of her carriage."

Darcy was properly mortified. How had he, thinking himself honest and just, enumerated the flaws in Elizabeth's family when his own had displayed at least equally deplorable behavior. He wanted to apologize for his own actions and for the way Elizabeth had been treated, but the lady continued on a surprising course of conversation.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam seems a lively, good spirited sort of person and engaging conversation partner. He, at least, was more tactful in his admonishment. He merely dissuaded me from forming an attachment by indicating that my lack of fortune and non-existent connections were too wanting to support the second son of an Earl. Rather presumptuous, to be sure, but kindly meant at least.

Darcy felt an immediate, irrational burst of anger towards Richard for being arrogant enough to assume Elizabeth's affection, before remembering he had made the same error, ten-fold.

"Your own assessment of my insufficiency I will not repeat, but be content in the knowledge that you were the most successful by far in your degradation of my person."

Elizabeth's throat then seized and despite her best efforts, she felt her air of lightness collapse. How vexing that her little effort at retribution had left her feeling more exposed than before. For a moment, Darcy and Elizabeth merely stared at each other, while Elizabeth worked to regain an evenness of breath. It was a brief moment.

"So you see, Mr. Darcy, I think you must be mistaken. For your aunt to view me as a threat, she must respect me, and your entire family has made it your cause to show me how undeserving of respect, how powerless you think I am."

Though Elizabeth forcibly regained her composure and even managed to flash a bright, defiant smile, her eyes betrayed the hurt behind her words. There were many things Darcy wished to say; he had apologies, questions, and words of defense, but all that managed to come out was: "You are wrong."

Elizabeth braced for further conflict. She worked for a steady tone, though at this point she was so confused, frustrated, and exhausted that all she wanted was to be left alone for a short cry and some sleep. Nevertheless, she persisted. "Please enlighten me then, Mr. Darcy, what did I say that was inaccurate?"

"I take no issue with your assessment of mine and my family's actions, Miss Bennet. I trust that they are all justified. Yet your conclusion could not be farther from the truth. You must know you hold complete power over me."

Elizabeth froze, she did not know what she had been expecting, but it was not that. She had never desired to hold power over anyone, least of all Mr. Darcy. Desperately, she tried to form a response but all she could think of were the words he spoke to her just days ago. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." He had said many things on the night of the proposal which overshadowed sentiment, but now it was laid bare again.

She felt panic rise. Her heart beat in her throat, she felt her nails pierce her palms, and despite her best efforts she could not control her breath. She felt consecutive waves of guilt, then pity, then anger with herself for allowing such feelings when none of this was her fault, really.

Mr. Darcy seemed aware of her struggle and jumped in with kindness, if more than a bit of discomfort.

"Miss Bennet, please do not trouble yourself, I did not mean to- you do not need- that is, I do not wish to make you uneasy . . ."

As he spoke, Elizabeth chose to focus her attention on the absent-minded circles he traced in the carpet.

"You have already made your feelings well known on this subject and I only need to apologize for referencing my own, which must be upsetting to you. I assure you that I will not try to change yours- of course I would- I do want- I will al-

His fingers changed direction often and Elizabeth studied them intently. She searched for some method to the movements, but they seemed entirely unpredictable.

"-But none of that is of any importance because you do not, and I know this and will never press you to change. That is to say, I am genuinely content and can want for nothing now that I know you are alive."

The gentleman's fingers stilled with his speech. For a brief moment, Elizabeth looked directly at the man across from her, whose pattern-less feelings had suddenly become clear. She could no longer hide from or excuse away the obvious conclusion that Mr. Darcy was very much in love with her. Elizabeth struggled to appear calm despite feeling herself buzz with nervous energy. Once adequately composed, she whispered two words:

"And awake."