AN: I feel like this has probably been done before, so sorry if it's redundant! I just thought jealous Darcy was too cute to pass up :)

Lizzie raced through the woods, uncaring for once if she tore a petticoat, though she knew Papa had little money just now to be buying her new things. She was past thoughts of prudence or consideration for others. The face of as he said she was unlikely to receive a better offer flashed before her eyes, as did the face of her mother, trying to doom her to that life. Oh, it was unbearable. She could no longer breath in that house, much less reason with any of them. She needed to be gone from it, and had half a mind never to return.

But of course she would return, she mused, as she collapsed onto a grassy bank beside a stream, breathing hard. Where else was she to go? The residents of Lucas Lodge would be just as excitable as her mother had been, as would her Aunt Phillips, and she had no one else in the world that she could reach on foot. An image of Netherfield rose unbidden to her mind, and she couldn't help but giggle at what she imagined Darcy's face would resemble if she were to show up in such a state. But thinking of Darcy somehow brought her back to Mr. Collins, if only because she thought she had finally found someone she would hate to be married to worse than Darcy himself.

And yet was it not her duty? Was she being an uncaring, ungrateful child, by forcing her family to continue supporting her when they could be rid of her? She did not miss the worried glances her father gave his account books, the frustrated tutting every time her mother felt stretched a bit thin by the butcher's prices. And as much as it irked her to admit it, she really was not especially likely to receive another offer of marriage in her life. But she would rather be a lonely spinster, a sad old governess a thousand times over than bear the title of Mrs. Collins, why could her mother not see such a simple truth? She felt tears of frustration prick her eyes and wiped them away impatiently. Elizabeth Bennet did not cry.

"Miss Bennet?" Her spine stiffened immediately. She knew that voice. It belonged to perhaps the last person in the world she wished to encounter at that moment.

"Mr. Darcy" She said, hastening to her feet and attempting to straighten herself out. He was wearing riding clothes and she saw an elegant black horse tethered to a tree nearby. She must have been more absorbed in her personal woes than she thought to miss his arrival. "Out for a ride, I see. What gave you cause to dismount?" Her curiosity won out over her desire to say no more words to him than were absolutely necessary.

"I often take an interval for rest in my longer rides to pause and admire the scenery." She nodded, wondering what perverse fate made him pause here and now. "Miss Bennet, forgive me, but you appear unwell. Has something upset you?"

"I am quite alright, I assure you." She said, but her traitorous voice undermined her by shaking as she spoke.

"That is clearly not true. Come, I will not be able to leave you in good conscience until you explain what ales you." But Elizabeth kept her mouth resolutely shut. This man had made his disdain of her family quite clear, she would not give him the satisfaction of revealing the extent of their dysfunction. After an unbearable pause he prompted her again, saying

"If you will not explain to me what is the matter, then at least let me escort you home. You must see it is impossible for me to leave you in the woods in such a distraught state." Elizabeth heaved a great sigh, thinking that now was really a terrible time for Darcy to develop some sort of conscience. But being escorted home now, by him, was possibly the most painful experience she could imagine. She had no choice but to give him the truth.

"If I tell you sir, I must request your discretion." She hardly needed to give Caroline Bingley something else to gloat over. Darcy nodded, and she attempted to dry her eyes before saying

"My cousin, Mr. Collins, has recently proposed."

"Proposed what?" he blurted, looking strangely agitated.

"Marriage. To myself." Goodness, she knew he thought her barely tolerable, but was it really so hard for him to imagine that someone in all of England might wish to marry her?

"And what was your answer?" Something was strange about the intensity with which asked this question. He sounded frightened, and almost angry. Perhaps it was because Mr. Collins was under the patronage of Darcy's aunt, and he dreaded even this distant connection with Lizzie and her family. But his features were overcome with such emotion, she could not help but wonder if she was missing something.

"I refused him." She said at length, and he visibly relaxed, and muttered

"Good." Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, anger quickly displacing the guilt and frustration she had been feeling before. She didn't understand his meaning, but was fairly certain she had been insulted. "I apologize." He said flustered. "It is- I only meant- I do not imagine he would be a suitable husband for you."

"Really, Mr. Darcy? Am I too impertinent to be the wife of a clergyman, or perhaps just not accomplished enough to be under the patronage of your esteemed aunt?" She had meant to lend her questions a joking tone, but found she was too livid to disguise them as anything but what they were.

"No." He said heatedly. "I simply do not think he would make you happy. You deserve a husband with more sense. A man with the capacity to appreciate your lively mind, one who-" he stopped himself suddenly, averting his eyes from her face and looking distinctly uncomfortable. Elizabeth was taken aback, and before she knew what she was saying she breathed

"So you think I was right to refuse him?" She chided herself for asking. She did not need the approval of a man she hated. But somehow if the proper Mr. Darcy could see the ridiculousness of their marriage, it made her feel less guilt over her decision.

"I do." He said firmly. "But I still do not understand what has upset you so."

"My mother." She sighed. "She is quite angry with me for refusing an eligible offer, and though I know it would never have made me personally happy, I cannot help but wonder if it was somehow my duty to accept. As Mr. Collins so eloquently put it, I may never receive another offer of marriage." But somehow, as she thought of his rude comment again, she was able to look on it with more amusement than resentment. Her nature did not allow her to dwell bitterly on a slight to herself for long without finding something laughable about it.

"He said that to you? As he proposed?" This time there was no mistaking the anger in Mr. Darcy's voice. Elizabeth immediately wished she had been more prudent with her words, but something about Darcy always made her excruciatingly honest.

"Yes well, though it was perhaps not the best mode of flattering his beloved, I suppose my esteemed cousin's assessment had some truth to it. Certainly my mother believes so. At any rate, you must now understand why I wish no immediate return home. I simply require some time to order my thoughts before returning."

"Yes, I understand." He said slowly, making no move to leave. She gave him a rather pointed look, thinking her comment had implied a wish for solitude. "What will you do when you go back?"

"Wait for the storm to pass, I suppose. My mother will soon find another source to tax her poor nerves." Elizabeth found a smile on her features despite herself. Was it possible talking to him had actually made her feel better?

"Well, I wish you the best of luck." He said, nodding stiffly. "You will fare acceptably if I leave you now?" She nodded, her face feeling warm for some reason she could not fathom.

"Thank you for inquiring after me." She watched him walk away, until halfway to his horse he turned suddenly.

"Miss Bennet?" He called, seeming unwilling to walk back to her.

"Yes?"

"Your cousin was wrong, about what he said."

"You will have to be more specific, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Collins says many things." She said, taking a few steps towards him, as yelling across the clearing made no sense to her.

"There is no conceivable way that Mr. Collins will be the last man to ask for your hand."

"Sir?" But he was already leaving, departing so quickly and smoothly that for a moment she thought she had imagined his last comment. But she was certain no part of her mind could have fabricated the intensity that had been in his eyes for the most fleeting of moments. As she walked home, all thoughts of her bumbling cousin were completely eradicated. Whether she liked it or not, her mind was now quite firmly fixed on Mr. Darcy.