Disclaimer: I will continue to post full versions of stories on here initially and then submit to publishers after. I apologise if you have only just found this story as I had not thought I would ever attract the interest of publishers!

Please enjoy x.

p.s I have also began another story which I will start posting within the next week.

It was a windy and overcast late September morning, as Elizabeth Bennet stood before the imposing residence of Darcy House situated in the fashionable and affluent Grosvenor Square, London. Elizabeth stood rooted to the spot with her heart beating an erratic staccato of uncertainty and fear in her ears. As the sun had not yet risen, she was aware that being here was most improper, but what choice did she have? She had to be sure he was there to receive her. She had hoped to never see Mr Darcy again and most definitely did not want to ask him for help. A shudder of apprehension coursed through her. Elizabeth was under no illusion that he would want to see her, not after the words they threw at each other during their last meeting at Hunsford. The universe was clearly amusing itself at her expense, but given her current predicament, desperate times called for desperate measures and Elizabeth was desperate.

How could her sister, Lydia, be so foolish and downright selfish to have eloped with Mr Wickham? Her father and Uncle Gardiner had been tirelessly searching for them for the past two days, with no luck. The only bit of information they had managed to glean was that they were last seen entering London but not beyond. With any luck, that would mean that they were still here in London. Elizabeth flinched at the memory of the look on her father's face when he had received the letter from Colonel Forster telling them of Lydia's reckless decision. She had never witnessed her father in so much pain before and it broke her heart. She shook her head to try to dispel the unpleasant memory.

Her mother, of course, had taken to her bed and has since been diligent in telling anyone and everyone of how she had never been fooled by Mr Wickham, of how Mr Bingley would never come back for Jane now and how Jane should have done something more to secure his affection. Poor, sweet Jane! Jane was truly the better person. Elizabeth knew, had she been the one on the receiving end of such derision, she would not have borne it so well.

Not five hours ago, Elizabeth and her Aunt Gardiner had waited for her Papa and uncle past midnight, hoping that they would come back with Lydia in tow. Unfortunately, they had once again returned home empty-handed, with nothing to show for their efforts and no more leads. It had been two days since Elizabeth and her father had arrived at the Gardiner's, to begin searching for Lydia and Mr Wickham. Elizabeth had watched her father walk into the parlour last evening as though there was a great weight about his shoulders, pulling him down into oblivion. Ever since the letter had been received, her father had not looked at her, his shame at his failure to protect his children emanating from him.

Elizabeth had been careful not to remind her family of Wickham's connection to Mr Darcy as she did not think she would be able to take the humiliation of coming face-to-face with him again. She would only seek him out if they truly had no other options. Her family had all heard from Mr Wickham, how ill he had been treated by Mr Darcy. In truth was another reason for her hesitancy in approaching Mr Darcy. She could not help but wonder that if Mr Darcy had been of a kinder disposition and honoured his late father's will, Mr Wickham would have the living he had been promised. Perhaps then he would not have become such a scoundrel!

As everyone was about to retire, Elizabeth realised that they had exhausted all of their options and knew she would have to speak with Papa and Uncle Gardiner about asking Mr Darcy for his assistance in the matter. She had stood nervously, halting them by the door.

"Papa, Uncle I…", her words were cut off when Mr Bennet suddenly gasped, clutching at his chest before falling against the door frame and collapsing to the floor in a heap. Elizabeth recalled her Aunt's scream followed by a rush of activity. Upon closer inspection, it became clear her father's head had collided with the handle on the door causing an angry cut on his forehead. Her uncle applied pressure to the wound and ordered his staff to make haste and call for the doctor immediately. Dr Jones had recently just finished delivering a baby not far from her Uncle's residence and had arrived in less than quarter of an hour. After he had examined her father, he sat with them all in a separate room and gravely diagnosed that Mr Bennet had suffered a heart attack. He would need plenty of bed rest to prevent any further deterioration of the heart.

"Unfortunately, the wound he sustained to his head would add an extra strain to his body as it mended. This means that the next couple of days will be critical. We need to watch to make sure he does not contract an infection, which in turn could lead to a fever." Upon seeing the fear evident in Elizabeth's eyes, he continued. "Do not worry, it is not all grave. There is much hope, thanks to your quick-thinking Mr Gardiner in applying pressure to the wound. You have ensured Mr Bennet did not lose too much blood." Dr Jones had informed them.

"Thank you, Doctor for coming here as quickly as you did." said Mrs Gardiner, giving her husband's hand a squeeze.

"Not all Ma'am. I shall leave you now, but if anything should change in his condition, send for me immediately. Now, do try to get some sleep. I am sure this has been a great shock, but Mr Bennet will need you all at your best and alert." With that he said his final farewell and a few words of reassurance as Mr Gardiner saw him out.

"Lizzy, please try not to be too frightened. These things always appear worse than they are. Try to rest, Dr Jones is correct, we will be of no use to him if we are tired and not thinking clearly," reassured her Aunt.

"I believe you are right. Thank you, Aunt, as always. I will go and visit Papa before I retire and shall see you in the morning." said Elizabeth trying but failing to produce a smile.

Elizabeth sat with her father whilst he slept watching his breathing, unable to clear her mind enough to sleep. She wondered what would become of them if her father passed away… Mr Collins would waste no time in making Longbourn his 'Humble abode'. She rolled her eyes and felt the bile rise in her throat at the thought of that silly buffoon sitting in her father's chair, in her father's study! Her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner would do their best to help, but with three little ones, they would only be able to do so much.

In light of all this, Elizabeth knew that she had to put her pride aside and do what must be done. Her only hope was that Mr Darcy could find enough generosity in his heart to listen to her and provide some information about Mr Wickham to direct their search—or if he did not want to speak with her, if she could get him to agree to receive her uncle later that day. After their last conversation and the fact that they had never gotten along or agreed upon anything!

"Do not worry Papa, I shall fix this. I shall bring Lydia home!" Elizabeth vowed as she had placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

A passing carriage jolted Elizabeth back to the present, the harsh winds whipped around Elizabeth's face, mirroring her inner turmoil. With a shake of her head, she focused her gaze once more on the large ornate oak doors in front of her, every bit as intimidating as their master. Drawing in a long and steadying breath, she raised her hand, decisively lifted the heavy knocker, which bore the Darcy family crest and knocked before she could change her mind. Elizabeth barely had time to withdraw her hand, for within seconds the door opened to reveal an imperious looking butler dressed in smart livery. Upon seeing her standing there alone, he opened the door a fraction more and stared at her.

"Yes?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but her nerves betrayed her, and no sound came out. The butler continued to stare at her, his expression shifting from puzzlement to concern and then back again.

"Miss…?"

Recovering herself, Elizabeth stated that she had come to see Mr Darcy. The butler opened the door a fraction more and cast a look around to see if she had a chaperone or companion, but found there was none.

"The master is not receiving calls at this time; it is rather early Miss." stated the butler and went to close the door. Elizabeth stuck her hand out halting his progress.

"Please, this is a matter of great importance and urgency. I trust he will agree to speak with me." pleaded Elizabeth, her desperation causing her to speak louder than intended.

"Does Mr Darcy know you Miss…?" he enquired discreetly, taking note of her clothes. Knowing by way of her dress, she most definitely was not that kind of 'Lady'. But, why would she be here at this time of the morning and asking for an audience with his master? He knew his master to be a fair and honest man but hardly the most approachable.

"Forgive me, my name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. My family and I have been acquainted with Mr Darcy for almost a year."

The butler gave her a shrewd look, taking in her appearance once more. She was sure looked positively wild given the weather. Self-consciously, she moved her hand to her hair, hoping her bonnet had provided her hair with some protection from the strong winds she had been standing in for a lot longer than she had planned.

"Very well Miss Bennet. I am not sure if he has left his apartments yet, but I will tell him of your arrival." Said the butler. He could not explain why, but he felt compelled to help this young Miss Bennet. It might be that she mildly resembled his late wife or perhaps he was getting soft in his old age.

"That is very kind of you. I would only need a few moments of his time."

Hesitating a fraction, the Butler said, "Miss Bennet, I'm sure there will be no issue for you to come inside and wait in the foyer." he said, opening the door wider to allow her entry.

"I am most appreciative Mr…?"

"My name is Jarvis," said the butler offering a bow.

"I thank you, Mr Jarvis," Elizabeth offered a small smile and went inside.

The butler closed the door and turned towards Elizabeth, ensured that she was settled before he left her alone, while he went in search of Mr Darcy. Don't thank me yet, thought Jarvis as he proceeded down the hall towards the study. Mr Darcy had not been himself of late and most definitely would not appreciate this intrusion so early.

Fitzwilliam Darcy sat alone in his study nursing a brandy, thinking over the last five months. Not usually one who was ever partial to spirits it was had become the perfect balm for his heartache. He had yet to make it to bed, and he was starting to feel a dull ache in his head. He released a deep sigh rubbing at his eyes, trying to ease their strain. He pushed himself to stand, running his hands through his unruly hair, down across his jaw and grimacing as he discovered the roughness of his chin. He glanced about the room, dimly lit only by the fire burning in the grate. His gaze resting for a moment on the contents of the dinner tray his butler had insisted on bringing him, still lying where he had placed it untouched, before returning his tired gaze to the bottom of his almost empty brandy glass.

Everything he knew about himself, everything others expected of him, and everything he had been taught meant nothing after that horrible day at the parsonage. He had made a complete fool of himself putting his pride and sense aside, placing his heart on a plate before the woman he loved, who had mercilessly ripped it to pieces. Darcy dealt with his heartbreak the only way that he knew how. He ignored it and threw himself into running his estates and finding new investments. Knocking back the remaining contents of his glass, he flinched at the painful memories now assaulting him. How could he have been such a fool to think that she had returned his feelings? He had believed, without a doubt, that Miss Bennet would welcome his proposal! It was laughable! The only thing that had benefited from his anguish was his wealth which had grown proportionately to his heartbreak.

More hurtful than Miss Bennet's dismissal, was the expression of disgust and pity on her face. She treated him with such disdain, professing that "He was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry." Even at such a moment, she found a way to laugh at him. "Your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others…" She accused him of ruining her sister's happiness and, even worse, of being responsible for Wickham's 'misfortunes'! Ha! "His misfortunes indeed." He muttered to bitterly, closing his eyes and trying to shake her voice from his mind as he walked over to the sideboard and poured himself another generous helping of his quickly decreasing brandy. Turning, with brandy he walked over to the window behind his desk and peaked behind the curtains. Still dark he thought, choosing to leave them closed. He returned to sitting in the plush leather armchair that had belonged to his father before him, with another heavy sigh.

Darcy recalled leaving the parsonage and returning to Rosings. He had locked himself in his room and wallowed in self-pity for hours. He eschewed dinner with his relatives that evening, choosing instead to spend the night writing to her, explaining and justifying his actions! He had behaved with the best of intentions and he would defend himself; however, in doing so, he saw that he would be revealing his and his beloved sister's most painful secrets. In the end, after walking the Grove for an hour in the hope of seeing her, he lost his nerve and up his return to his room at Rosings, he threw the letter into the fire. It would be too dangerous to his sister to have these circumstances committed to paper. Why should he care of her opinion of him? It is not as if they will see each other again, they hardly mixed in the same circles.

Mr Darcy had returned to London as quickly as possible with the sole purpose of forgetting Elizabeth Bennet. He told no one of what had happened and had naively hoped that by immersing himself in his regular routine and throwing himself into the managing of his estates he would quickly conquer his infatuation with her. And he had partially succeeded in that effort only - food seemed to have lost its taste. He would lay awake at night thinking of her and what could have been had they never met and though Mr Darcy was loath to admit it, he spent more time imagining what could have been had Miss Elizabeth said yes...

He had been persuaded that the best course of action to fix his mood, would be to get back out into society and find a suitable bride and beget an heir; however, he kept comparing every suitable young lady to Miss Bennet. They all seemed to come up lacking. Gah! When had he become such a love-sick cliché? What a wretchedly pathetic wretch he was!

It was then that he heard someone knocking incessantly on his study door. Surely his household knew by now not to disturb him so early. He tried to ignore this intrusion into his solitude, but the knocking persisted. Slamming his fist to the desk, he uncharacteristically bellowed harshly.

"GO AWAY!"

The door opened slowly, and Jarvis entered much to his master's annoyance…Darcy levelled him with a withering glare.

"Good morning sir, my apologies for disturbing you. But there is a young woman requesting to see you." Jarvis said with a lift of his eyebrows as he inched toward the curtains in an attempt to open them.

"What?" said Darcy watching Jarvis' steady progress across the room, straightening objects along the way and 'tsk'-ing as he passed his untouched food tray.

"There is an unescorted young lady her to see-" he said inching closer still to the curtains

"Yes, I heard you the first time Jarvis. Tell her I am busy and not receiving visitors. There now, you have no need to open the drapes," snapped Darcy.

"Sir, I would have done so, as per your instruction... however, she explained that she is an acquaintance of yours and would only need a moment of your time. She said that the matter was urgent, and she looks very distressed sir," explained Jarvis as he lit the two candles nearest to him.

"I see," said Mr Darcy pinching the bridge of his nose in agitation. Normally, he would not be swayed once he had decided not to receive visitors, especially at this hour. On the other hand, Jarvis had served his father before him, never before offering further explanation when he had been given specific instructions.

"Does the lady have a name?" added Mr Darcy after a brief hesitation.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, sir."

Darcy blanched and stood abruptly, nearly upsetting his drink and catching his elbow on the side of the desk.

"Jarvis, are you certain?" he asked, absent-mindedly rubbing the ache from his elbow.

"Yes, quite certain, sir," he replied, taken aback by the extreme reaction from his normally staid master. "Shall I send her in?"

Darcy nodded slowly. Once the door closed, he expelled a loud breath, stood up and began to pace back and forth behind his desk as he hit his palm to his forehead. What on earth was she doing here? Damn, why did he agree to see her? He needed to compose himself and above all else, act as unaffected by her presence as he could.

He paused in front of the desk deciding to look for some correspondence or paperwork to go over, so he looked busy when she came in. He instantly changed his mind, tugging at his cravat he leant on the wall by the window and reached for a book he could have been reading, perching on the edge of his desk with the book... "No, no, no far too contrived!" He was acting like a bloody simpleton. "What are you doing? Just sit behind your desk man. This is your study after all, where else would you be?" said Darcy berating himself for his nerves. Once he had seated himself behind his desk, he took a few deep breaths in an attempt gain some equanimity.

Unfortunately, it was not that easy knowing Elizabeth was here!

In London!

In his house!

After all these months!

Darcy tried mentally to prepare himself for seeing Miss Bennet again, but how could anything prepare him for this?

Once left alone, Elizabeth shivered, her teeth chattering slightly as she stood in the vacuous foyer and allowing herself to look around at the opulence surrounding her.

"To think of all this, I could have been mistress." She muttered to herself.

She could hear the movements towards the back of the property as the servants began their daily chores. She was surprised to see that it had been tastefully decorated and not garishly so, like - Rosings Park. But then she recalled that Mr Darcy did not seem to be in favour of the bright colours and fripperies that so many men of the ton and those of wealth chose in their fashions. Honestly did a man really need to have a jewel to adorn his shoes, walking cane and cravat!

The sound of footsteps broke her musings. Elizabeth clasped her hands in front of her trying to hide her increasing nervousness and discomfort as the butler approached her. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach at the worried look on the butler's face and knew then that Mr Darcy had refused her request to speak with him. She had been such a fool to think that the great Mr Darcy of Pemberley, Lord of all he surveys, would lower himself to -

"The master will see you in his study. If you would allow me," He gestured to her pelisse, gloves and bonnet. It took a moment for Elizabeth to remove her outerwear and pass them to Jarvis to hang them. "If you will please follow me Miss Bennet, I will show you to Mr Darcy."

Elizabeth's knees felt weak. Mr Darcy had agreed to see her. Did this mean that he would help her? Or did he simply want to witness her downfall for himself and have the satisfaction of throwing her out onto the street?

"Miss Bennet?"

"Yes?"

"If you would please follow me…" the butler said with his left arm extended in the direction he was to take her.

Elizabeth barely managed a small nod and followed the butler on unsteady legs. As they drew further into the house, Elizabeth did not take notice of where she was being led, she was too preoccupied with trying to figure out what she would say once she was face-to-face with Mr Darcy. She had to compose herself so she could speak with him in a calm and reasonable manner. Nervously, she patted her hair and smoothed the skirts of her lavender day dress. All too soon Jarvis had stopped in front of yet another impressive door, Elizabeth had been so engrossed by her thoughts and looking about her, that she very near barrelled into the back of his willowy frame. The butler raised his pristine white gloved hand, knocked twice upon the solid oak and waited.

"Enter."

A deep voice beckoned from within. The butler responded by opening the door before them and Elizabeth's heart began to pound a little harder.

"Miss Bennet to see you sir," announced Jarvis with a bow.

He stepped to the side allowing Elizabeth to enter and waited. Jarvis gave her a small, barely perceptible nod of encouragement, which made her warm to him further. Not entirely certain that her legs wouldn't give out any moment, Elizabeth squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height and stepped into the lion's den, ready for battle.