Just a disclaimer. I do not approve of drinking, nor do I think Mr. Darcy does, I merely wanted a situation in which he acted out of Character and surprised Elizabeth. Please do not blame him for it, he just loves Elizabeth too much.

"What are you doing out here in the snow?" Colonel Fitzwilliam said by way of greeting as he met his much younger cousin out in the Pemberley gardens.

"Just out for a walk," Georgiana smiled at him "Elizabeth has taught me to love walking nearly as much as she does."

"And how is the new Mrs. Darcy?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked, reigning in his mount, in no hurry to get into the large house, knowing he would have plenty of time with his cousins as he was to spend Christmas with them.

At this question, Georgiana's smile faltered. "Elizabeth is quite well, I believe. She has never been ill."

Colonel Fitzwilliam dismounted smoothly to walk beside her, leading his horse along. "That's not what I meant, and you know it, little cousin."

Georgiana's shoulders drooped. "I so wanted them to get along better. My brother is the best man I know, and Elizabeth is delightful, but they just… don't."

Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned. Darcy was his cousin, and he was closer to him than his own brother. The stubborn and stiff gentleman had been blessed enough to find the perfect woman to compliment him only to go and bumble through everything from insulting her at their first meeting to insulting her family when he proposed.

Darcy came off as proud, and he was, but more of it was that he was actually shy and uncomfortable around strangers, add the woman he fancied and he was even more nervous. But unlike some shy people, he didn't hide away. Instead, he just got quiet and stiff.

As it was, the poor man had made a mess of things and had Elizabeth had any other choice she would have refused his proposal. The Colonel knew this because Elizabeth herself had told Darcy so, angrily after he had proposed, and Colonel Fitzwilliam's morose cousin Darcy had related it back to him.

Darcy wouldn't admit he was in love with her at first, but what else would make a man desire such a socially unacceptable match? What had the last three months of marriage taught the couple? That perhaps remained to be seen.

"I'm sure he loved her," he muttered squinting through the reflected sunlight on the pristine snow.

"Oh yes, I am sure of it," Georgiana quickly added. "you have only to see how he stares at her when she is in the room and the way he says her name, and the expression on his face when he talks of her. Only, I don't think Elizabeth knows. If only he would relax in her presence instead of drawing into his shell and only watching her," Georgie sighed.

"Relax, hmm," Colonel Fitzwilliam stroked his chin, an idea coming to mind.

"I think you have hit the nail on the head Goergie."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you have just given me the means of getting Mr. Darcy of Pemberley to relax around his delightful wife."

"What?" Georgiana looked puzzled.

"You forget my little cousin that I have known your brother longer than you, and that I am also a man," he strode forward, grinning, now ready to enter the Grand House.

"What does being a man have to do with any of it?" Georgiana impatiently demanded, floundering in the snow after him as she attempted to keep up.

"You will just have to see."

Fitzwilliam Darcy could nearly feel the anger radiating off of Elizabeth in waves. Across the table, from him, he could catch the spark in her eyes every time their gazed happened to meet. At which point she would quickly look away as if she couldn't bear to look at him any longer.

No doubt that was the case, he had by now begun to despair that Elizabeth would ever come even to like him. She was a wonderful mistress of Pemberley, as he had known she would be. But she could not it seemed, forgive him for not being a man she could love. And perhaps for giving her no choice in marrying him.

She was the most beautiful woman in the whole country, if not the world, and his heart ached every time he looked at her and knew that though she was his wife she was unattainable. He treasured the moments when they got along and loved her teasing banter.

She might never be truly his wife, but he didn't think he could bear to be without her altogether, better to have her near him, even if she would always dislike him. Their most recent argument had been over inviting her family to spend Christmas with them. He could not handle the Bennet horde descending on their home, especially Mrs. Bennet bewailing the loss of her husband all hours of the day and night. But Elizabeth wanted her family there.

And so on this, as on many other things, their wills clashed. Therefore, while Elizabeth blossomed as the mistress of Pemberley, he found himself drawing away more and more often to nurse his gloomy thoughts. Hopefully, the company of his cousin would lighten the mood and add a little Christmas cheer to the table. So far it had not helped.

"I believe it is time for us to leave you, gentlemen," Elizabeth rose with the grace of a queen and nodded to Colonel Fitzwilliam and her husband before leaving the room with Georgiana in tow. The Colonel studied his cousin. Darcy was as stiff and proud in appearance as ever, but his eyes followed his wife's exit with a resigned sadness that would have touched the coldest heart, even Elizabeth's he was sure, had Darcy ever let her see that look.

"Come on man, cheer up, you seem quite gloomy tonight," the Colonel poured his friend a drink and clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm perhaps a bit tired, gloomy is not the word at all." Darcy insisted. But the fact that he accepted the drink and then downed it all at once did not agree with his assurances.

This just might be easier than he had thought. The Colonel refiled his cousin's glass and took a seat next to him.

- an hour later -

"No, she does not care for me, and that is enough," Darcy said morosely staring into his glass.

"Have you told her how you feel?" Colonel Fitzwilliam asked.

Darcy shook his head "no-yes, I told her I loved her when I proposed, it made no difference, she despises me. I have made too many mistakes already."

"Perhaps you should tell her again."

"I do not see what good it would do, nor do I particularly like having such deep feelings tossed back in my face."

Had it not been for the brandy, they would never be having this discussion. While alcohol made some men cheerful and giddy, it had a different effect on Mr. Darcy, changing him from his usual reserved stiff into a man who was bluntly honest instead of insisting all was well.

"Perhaps you ought to go to bed good man and think about what I said," Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped his cousin on the shoulder and directed him from the study where they had been.

"Perhaps," Darcy muttered, leaving the room.

The Colonel sighed, emptying his own glass for the first time. Why did reasoning with his cousin seem like a battle half the time? Either way, his outflanking maneuver of relaxing his cousin had failed. The conversation had taken too long, and now it looked as if Elizabeth had retired for the evening.

Elizabeth set aside her needlework and rubbed her eyes. She was getting cross-eyed from staring at the tiny stitches for so long. It was time to retire anyhow. Her infuriating husband and his cousin had been visiting for quite some time, but she was sure they would be retiring soon as well. The Colonel was no doubt tired after his journey, and Darcy wouldn't want to sit up alone as she and Georgiana had already gone to their rooms.

Elizabeth had a hot temper, but it cooled quickly, and while not forgiving Darcy for his refusal to invite her family for Christmas, felt that by morning she would be able to offer an olive branch of conversation so that the table might not be so difficult to sit around.

She was just preparing to extinguish the lamps when she heard a crash from downstairs. Hurriedly slipping on her dressing gown, Elizabeth hurried down the stairs, hoping Georgiana had not hurt herself tripping over something in the dark.

What she found instead was not at all what she had imagined, but her husband, who had apparently toppled the glass pitcher on the table in the downstairs hall.

"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth said in surprise.

He turned towards her slowly, and while not quite unsteadily, there was something about his behavior that clued Elizabeth into the fact that he had been drinking. While she had not known him long, Elizabeth had never known Darcy to drink more than one glass.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Perfectly," he responded, his tone clipped. She could not make him out entirely in the dark, but she could see enough in the moonlight to see him nearly miss the first step in the stairs. Apparently, he had been drinking and had had a little too much. The crash would soon bring the servants, and she knew he would not want to be seen in such a state, nor would the servants wish to see their beloved master in such a state. Nor she decided, did she want him to fall down the stairs and hurt himself. My, but she was charitable this evening.

Elizabeth sighed. "Let me help you," she said, in a no-nonsense tone, joining him at the stairs and without thinking wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him as she had done for her sister Lydia more than once when they came home from a party where she had had too much to drink. Thankfully Mr. Darcy was not as suborn as her sister an accepted her help, his arm going around her shoulders and enveloping her in his manly scent that made her at once remember that this was nothing like Lydia.

She looked up to find him staring back down at her, the expression in his beautiful dark eyes seeming perfectly coherent. She was surprised to see that he had a slight smile on his face as he stared at her that looked entirely out of place for him. They reached the top of the stairs without mishap and Elizabeth was about to release him when she heard the servants downstairs, whispering over the accident.

Not wanting to be seen, for the above reasons and especially as it appeared she was nearly wrapped in an embrace from her husband, Elizabeth quickly tugged him into her bedchamber as the door was right there.

From there he could cross into his room without being seen. As Mr. Darcy seemed in no hurry to let go of her support, Elizabeth kept them as they were and started across the bedroom, only to be surprised when he spoke.

"You're so beautiful," the words were nearly a whisper, as if he breathed them out, in awe. Now it was Elizabeth's turn to stumble. She got over her surprise soon enough and laughed lightly "there is no need to waste your flattery, Mr. Darcy, I will help you across the room without it."

"Tis not flattery, it's true," he sounded almost affronted and halted his progress across the room, forcing Elizabeth to stop as well. She looked up at him, finding his warm gaze on her once again.

"You have had too much to drink Mr. Darcy," she stated, lightly, feeling humor was the best way to deal with the situation.

"Perhaps," he conceded honestly, his gaze never leaving her face "but I can still see," then to her further shock he reached out and caressed her cheek in a move he had never once made to do ever before.

His touch made her flush, or perhaps it was his warm gaze, either way, it seemed he was actually unable to see straight or was confusing her with someone else, after all, she was only tolerable. Either way, he needed to get to bed. She needed him to get to bed.

"Come along," she turned away, wrapping her arm around him once again, but this time more because she needed to tug him in the direction of the safety of his room that because she feared he couldn't walk straight. She to her relief he allowed her to lead him unresistingly.

Once in his room, she released him immediately, ready to be away from him. This warm complimentary man seemed to be someone not at all related to her husband, save he was still quite as handsome.

"Would you like me to ring for your valet?" Elizabeth asked.

Darcy shook his head, "I think not," he decided.

Elizabeth hesitated, then, determined to be practical, and shove aside this strange awareness, moved towards him again. "Then let me help you off with your jacket at least." He stilled completely as she quickly unfastened the buttons of the aforementioned garment. "Now, I think we ought to go to bed," she said, giving him a quick smile.

A light she had never seen before kindled in the back of his eyes, which, naive as she might have been, even Elizabeth could recognize as desire. It was as if his mask had come off and she clearly saw all the emotions that he usually kept hidden

"An excellent notion, Mrs. Darcy," his voice had changed to a low husky tone, and before she could see what he was about, he had taken her hand and turning it over kissed the sensitive skin on the underside of her wrist. Perhaps he was not so intoxicated as she had thought, or perhaps he was.

"Mr. Darcy," she stuttered, quite startled by his behavior. "What has come over you?"

"Nothing at all," he had yet to release her hand, and Elizabeth found that her heart was pounding quite oddly with the way his dark eyes were fastened on her.

"You are so beautiful," he repeated, shaking his head as if unable to believe it.

"And you Mr. Darcy, have had too much to drink," she retorted again, giving him an arch look, meaning to defuse whatever situation she now found herself in. With the way her heart was beating, she found it rather hard to think clearly.

His response once again surprised her. At her look he groaned "do not do that to me Elizabeth," and before she could think what to do, he bent his head and kissed her hungrily. There seemed to be a blinding flash of light when his lips touched hers, and suddenly she lost what little breath she had. Who knew a kiss felt like that? She melted against him unable to think or move. The kiss was not long, but Mr. Darcy seemed in no mood to stop, changing direction and kissing her neck, making her catch her breath. His kiss made her weak. Who was this man and what had he done with her gentlemanly husband?

"Mr. Darcy," she weakly protested, managing to push back against his chest. He let her go, but not far, only loosening his hold. Not sure she could stand on her own after that, Elizabeth allowed him to keep her there. His expression showed no embarrassment or remorse whatsoever only something she uncomfortably noted looked like devotion.

"Mr. Darcy, what are you doing?" she protested, breathlessly.

"O what I have wanted to do from nearly the moment I laid eyes on you," he murmured, ducking his head to kiss her again, this time softer and longer. Elizabeth realized she should have been afraid, or angry, but she could not feel either, she was too confused, and he so gentle and soft.

What had come over him? Was that all he wanted, to take her to his bed? Was that why he had married her? If so, why had he not done so earlier when it was entirely in his right to insist. Instead, he had given her as much time as she wanted.

Was this the way Mr. Darcy treated the nearest woman when he was in this state or was she special? It seemed that Mr. Darcy's drinking had made him unusually open and honest, and as she managed to settle down the erratic beating of her heart, she realized this was the perfect time to get some answers that she desperately wanted to know.

Placing a hand against his chest to stop him from kissing her again she stared into his unfathomably deep gaze. "Why did you marry me?" she whispered.

"What?" he blinked seeming genuinely surprised by the question.

"Why did you marry me?" she repeated.

"Because I love you," he responded as if it were the plainest thing in the world. Elizabeth's breath caught indeed this time.

"You love me?"

"I told you so when I asked you to marry me." So he had, but in everything else, he had said she had somewhat overlooked it.

"But now-" Elizabeth started.

"I love you more than words can say," he whispered. His gaze turned almost sad.

"Why have you never told me?" Elizabeth murmured, her world was rocked by this piece of information, were it true, and there was truth in all his looks. Whatever he had felt at the time of his proposal she was sure his other feelings would soon drive it away altogether.

"Because you make me nervous and I cannot think what to say," he replied. Apparently, she did not make him nervous at present, in her nightdress.

Elizabeth swallowed hard her heart pounding "if you love me, Mr. Darcy, show me."

"How?" he asked.

Elizabeth later had no idea where the next words she spoke came from "court me, Mr. Darcy, make me fall in love with you." And then she quickly left the room for her own. Diving under the covers she lay there, her heart pounding and her mind reliving the feel of his lips against hers. He did not follow her, and she was relieved. Had she been wrong in thinking she had condemned herself to a loveless marriage? Did he love her more than words could say? Could she love him in return? Did she want to? What was going to happen in the morning?

let me know what you think, this is the naughtiest I have ever portrayed Mr. Darcy, he is just too much of a gentleman, but I enjoyed writing it. let me know if you are interested in hearing more. and how believable the Characters are. I feel like Elizabeth is a bit out of Character, but remember they have been married for three months and she does not want her marriage to be like this...