AN: There will be 3 sets of questions, which is how the 36 Questions that lead to love are structured.

The first set will be asked whilst Jane is ill at Netherfield. So that you're given a sense of time in which the story occurs, each chapter occurs a day after the other unless I indicate otherwise – I will probably add in a time lapse when I transition from set 1 to 2 after which Elizabeth and Jane should have returned to Loungbourn.

Obviously, I will have to reword the modern-day questions to fit into the regency era but the purpose behind each will remain the same. However, I will put the modern questions as the title for each respective chapter.

By the way the first chapter has been edited as I found some phrasing to be awkward and made according corrections. However, none of the events that happened in it have changed.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters and some of the scenes for the questions will be based on some scenes from the novel-they will not be the same though.

Enjoy.

Chapter 2: Would you like to be famous? In what way?

It had not been many days that had passed since Jane's stay, but Elizabeth was already feeling a pressing sense of unease. As if Caroline's relentless and spiteful comments were not irksome enough, Elizabeth had recently observed that Mr. Darcy's attention upon her at the dinner the previous day had not been an isolated case. Consequently, Elizabeth was silently praying for Jane's recovery to be swift - her mind longed to return to the fortress of her home where she could openly speak her mind without, in return, receiving either the scathing looks from Miss Bingley or the peculiar lingering glances from Mr. Darcy.

More often than proper, Elizabeth caught Mr. Darcy's eyes flitting over her quickly, his voice addressing her whenever opportunity allowed him to, and his vicinity time and time again.

It would not be obvious to many; these little actions were randomly undertaken.

One of many such occasions had taken place just in the morning of this day.

Elizabeth found herself walking along the passageway in the morning, shortly after her return from a refreshing morning walk, when she noticed the slightly ajar door leading to the grand Netherfield library. Curious and eager to immerse herself in a gripping novel- it had been too long since she had found time to do so- Elizabeth swiftly crossed the hall and, in record time, pushed the oak door widely open. As she took more steps into the library, her eyes impatiently swept across the few titles that were stacked within a disappointing lack of book shelves. Lost in thought murmuring to herself and grumbling at the meager variety of book selections, Elizabeth's mind was otherwise occupied, instead, failing to take notice of the shadow of a human figure nearby. It was not until Elizabeth's body gradually grew tense from a persistent prickling sensation on her back, that she instantly swiveled around to face the dim-lit corner of the moderate library…

…only to find herself staring into Mr. Darcy's fervent, brown eyes.

"Oh!" she breathlessly exclaimed, her heart rapidly pounding from the sudden shock upon seeing him. Quickly averting her eyes from his intense look, she noticed that he was seated in a mahogany leather armchair, with his long legs neatly crossed beneath it and his slender fingers enclosed around a volume that now lay abandoned on his knees. However, the piercing touch on her skin never relented, forcing her once again to meet his disconcerting gaze.

It was like this that Mr. Darcy continued to silently watch her, her cheeks endearingly flushed from astonishment and her eyes blazing widely into his, full of confusion and surprise.

No words were spoken from either.

Reeling from the bewilderment of Mr. Darcy having been there all this time along with the unnerving silence that hung heavily in the air, Elizabeth impulsively turned around from Mr. Darcy's imploring eyes and, without hesitating, fled the library all the way back to the safety of her chamber.

There, she could not help but ask why he had evoked such an ardent response from her: had it been anyone else but him, she would have seated herself, conversed for a few minutes and then politely excused herself.

'It must be my immense dislike for his character,' she had convinced herself as she lay in her bed minutes later. Yet her heartbeat had not yet slowed down.

Still slightly fazed by the earlier events of this morning, Elizabeth decided it was best to take her supper with Jane in the room where she had been resting since she had taken ill. Despite Jane's suspicions regarding Elizabeth's slightly agitated state, Elizabeth assured Jane that she was just eager to spend a bit more time with Jane whilst she was not either half-asleep or fully unconscious.

However, Jane dismissed Elizabeth's attempts to remain with her for the rest of the night and urged her to join the others in the parlor after supper instead.

"Go," she had insisted in a weak, drowsy voice, "We must be respectful towards our host."

With a smile at seeing Elizabeth's growing frown, Jane softly added, "Despite how much I enjoy your companionship, you cannot hide away all day."

This is how Elizabeth now found herself seated next to Miss Bingley on the cream chaise longue that was situated in the center of the elaborately furnished parlor, opposite to the card table at which both gentlemen were currently engaged in a game of poker.

Upon first entering the resplendent parlor, adorned in golden décor, Elizabeth had tried her hardest to not make it obvious that she was avoiding the overall spot where Mr. Darcy was located. She knew that if she were to catch him looking at her yet again, she would be unable to halt herself from responding, whether with one of her many cutting remarks or, even more prospectively frightening, with a blush.

However, despite Elizabeth's reservations, Miss Bingley had other machinations. With the gentlemen in the corner of the parlor, Miss Bingley noticed what an advantage it would be to attract the attentions of a person- her target being Mr. Darcy- if she were to tour about the room. Hence, after having urged Elizabeth to join her, Miss Bingley was traipsing along the walls of the open parlor, her body held in a poised gait, bypassing the men thrice before she grew impatient with the frustrating lack of silence and started up a conversation with one gentleman in particular.

"Mr. Darcy." Her voice rang out clearly, cutting through the stillness of the room.

"Pray, tell me. How is dear Miss Darcy?" she asked him directly, yet clearly intending to showcase to all her close acquaintance to the Darcy family.

Although Mr. Darcy was not fond of Miss Bingley at most times, her question about his beloved sister elicited a small smile on his face. Elizabeth could not help but notice the slight upwards curving of his lips, the sudden glint in his usually clouded, dark eyes and the dimple forming on the left side of his cheek.

'You should smile more often," she mentally thought as she observed him, his more joyful demeanor traded for his usual proud, reserved manner. He looked almost approachable.

"Georgiana is in excellent health," Darcy smilingly declared before continuing, "Although she's occupied in Bath, she still diligently practices the pianoforte."

At Mr. Darcy's response, Miss Bingley stopped in her tracks as if to emphasize her next point, forcing Elizabeth to stop alongside her.

Facing the cards table, Miss Bingley admirably flattered, "Miss Darcy is one of the most accomplished women I know. Elegant, cultivated and distinguished. She meets all the requirements there are to be met."

Although Elizabeth knew that Miss Bingley's flatter was primarily aimed at Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth could not help but respond to her previous statement, which she found rather absurd.

"Really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in response, "I know no such woman who meets all three of those traits fully."

The men had stopped playing poker by now, and they curiously glanced up at the ladies as Elizabeth continued her remark.

"Perhaps at most, women can try to live out a life of elegance and possess the artistry of playing an instrument or painting. However, I do not know any such woman who is distinguished but meets the necessary condition of being elegant too."

"And thereby you mean?" Mr. Darcy prompted her as she ended her short rant, only grasping little of the whole picture she was trying to portray to her listeners.

This time Elizabeth did not hesitate before responding back.

"Thereby I mean," she began, wittily mimicking Mr. Darcy's words, "that all the women I would consider accomplished would not be considered so in the eyes of Miss Bingley and most of society".

Despite waiting for her to expand further, Elizabeth had quieted down, and Mr. Darcy did not know how to encourage her to continue without seeming too fixated on her; he either found himself too distracted by her charming demeanor to voice his thoughts or her sentiments would set off a surge of his own overwhelming set of questions. Mr. Darcy found himself in such situations only too often when in the presence of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as he had earlier in the morning in the library. Suddenly seeing her there, deep in thought as she had gracefully entered the library had left him transfixed by her.

The moment was still as clear as if it had just happened.

Her cheeks endearingly flushed. The hazel in her eyes twirling like a ripple of waves. Her vivid eyes blazing widely into his.

That was his predicament. She was his predicament.

As a result, either too much or too little was always said in her vicinity.

To Mr. Darcy's relief, Miss Bingley helped to fuel his questions as she insipidly asked Elizabeth what she considered an essential characteristic to be that a woman of society must possess.

"I cannot judge different women of different situations from the same criteria." Elizabeth remarked in a serious tone before jokingly adding, "A love for walking, though, is unquestionably a requisite."

Mr. Bingley gently chuckled at Elizabeth's repertoire of quips and Mr. Darcy's face too lit up in a smile at her wit. It was only Miss Bingley that remained unamused at this, exasperatedly shaking her head instead.

Yet again, Mr. Darcy found himself unrelentingly directing his questions towards Elizabeth.

"Well then," he inquisitively posed, "Which accomplishments of yours would you wish to be recognized for?"

There was a long silence. Frustrated by the lack of address towards her, Miss Bingley had started up the walk again, dragging Elizabeth along as they toured the room in rounds. This gave Elizabeth the opportunity to thoroughly contemplate the question instead of responding with a witty remark like she had done to Miss Bingley. To her own surprise, she felt the inexplicable need to give Mr. Darcy a truthful and profound answer- he was one of the few people who had taken their time to attempt to understand her and she wished to reward him for that.

Mr. Darcy had nearly given up on a response from her when she softly replied. "To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."

Some more minutes passed before any more words were said.

"If I can say anything after having been acquainted with you for this duration," Darcy eventually said with a glint in his eyes and the boyish smirk on his face once more, causing Elizabeth to halt and glance up at him, "it is that Miss Elizabeth Bennet can be no other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

Like she had feared earlier, a ruby-red blush crept up her neck and unfurled along the cheeks of her face.

As the meaning of his words sank in, her lit eyes met his and, like the slight smile that graced his face, her lips gradually curled upwards in a contented smile to match his. No witty remark was needed.

"By all means then, you are a very accomplished woman!" Mr. Bingley grinningly pointed out, connecting Mr. Darcy's observation to Miss Elizabeth's previous explanation.

Mr. Darcy could not agree more to that.

AN: The quote "To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment" is from Ralph Waldo Emerson, who lived during the 1800s and was an American poet. I do not know if Mr. Bennet and, hence, Elizabeth would have read his works or heard this quote, but I happened to come upon it whilst writing this chapter and it was too perfect not to use.

By the way, I was trying to do some research on how the Bennet sisters would be addressed individually when I public or private, but I came up short-handed. If any of you do know or have any corrections regarding conventions of the era that I portrayed in this story, feel free to message me.