AN: an one-shot interlude that would not leave me alone this morning until I managed to put it into words. Mostly just surgary fluffiness to tied you over while I work on the next chapter of Might Have Been. Inspired by the scenes towards the end of the 2005 movie

He should not be there. Darcy knew this, knew that the way he stared at the old building that housed his…no…housed her…was most unbecoming, most … untoward as Bingley had planned to describe his wish for a private audience with Miss Jane Bennet. Ah Bingley, no doubt he is even now sitting among his family to be, mindless of the exclamations of Mrs. Bennet and the chatter that must exist in a family consisting of so many daughters. His eyes surely saw only his angel and his ears were certain to hear only the soft murmurs of her voice. How flustered Bingley had been! How he had paced on the banks of the pond as he tried to craft the perfect proposal! How much care Bingley had put into humbling himself in front of Miss Bennet!

How was it that Charles Bingley, in possession of an almost gullible spirit, knew to ask rather than demand? How was it that he, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire, who had perhaps considered himself the superior despite their longstanding friendship, should find himself the novice in gaining the love of a woman's heart? Surely Bingley must have known that he would not be refused, and yet, he was almost beside himself with fear.

"Do you deny it, Mr. Darcy? That you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to the censure world of caprice and my sister to derision and disappointed hopes, involving them both in acute misery of the worst kind and... "

Unbidden, her words resounded in his mind. And in his mind's eye he could almost see his father's disappointed gaze joining that of the fury within hers, for he had acted in an ungentlemanly manner, he knew that now. Bingley had paid Miss Bennet enough attentions so as to raise certain hopes and it was based on his counsel that Bingley had then abandoned his suit. How ironic it was that he who was always so aware of society expectations should manage to be blind to the effects of such an action! Surely his intentions were good, but was not the road to hell paved with such good intentions?

"My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me."

Darcy's brows furrowed as he remembered again Miss Jane Bennet's serene countenance at the first assembly during which he had, unknowingly, shattered any hopes of obtaining her hand in marriage even before he knew he was in possession of such desires. While she flinched at her mother's uncandid remarks on Miss Bennet's past suitor, Miss Bennet remained quite composed. How was that he, the master of holding masks in public, did not recognize the same behavior in others? When he and Bingley had entered the Bennet drawing room that afternoon, he had kept his eyes fixed on Miss Bennet, no matter how much his heart yearned for a glimpse of her. He had seen the quickness with which she schooled her features after the widening of her eyes at Bingley's presence. The sidewise direction of her gaze as her mother prattled on about the marriage of the youngest Bennet was the only hint of her acknowledgement of het embarrassment at such behavior. The slight flutter of the newspaper, a movement so slight that it might have been attributed to the breeze that the opening of the door had wrought, betrayed the trembling of her hands. Her gaze, when she did manage to look at Bingley, reminded Darcy of another pair of eyes. In them, he saw not Jane Bennet's tenuous hope but rather Georgiana's heartbroken plea for reassurance that she would certainly one day find a gentleman who would love her for herself. In that small moment, Darcy realized the truth that she in her fury had revealed; Miss Jane Bennet was a gentlewoman, one of significant subtlety as propriety dictated. Surely she must have learned to shield herself from those who wished to take advantage of her beauty as much as he had learned to shield himself from those who wished only for his wealth and connections. In that moment, he felt a kinship with his friend's angel that he had never expected to feel. And, she had wrought this change in him. He knew well that as driven by anger as she had been, the words that were spoken were only in defense of a beloved sister. How could he judge her actions when he understood quite well what it meant to be truly angry towards one who would dare bring harm to his own sister? How could he deem Miss Bennet uncaring when his own sister now carried with her bearing the same weary cautiousness?

When she had spoken to him, he could not resist the temptation any longer and turned to meet her gaze. When he made it known that he would leave on the morrow, he thought he detected a flicker of alarm, a hesitancy and uncertainty that he did not know she was capable of feeling.

"So soon?" She had asked. And, despite all the cares he had taken to lock up his heart again, the almost lost quality of the tone made him want to beg her for an explanation.

And so he found himself standing in the field, his eyes fixated on her home, hoping that he had gained some measure of forgiveness. He dared not hope for more, no matter the tiny flame that had been lit at her words. He knew he looked quite the fool, but he cared not. In the waning light of the day, he felt his resolve waver. Such power she held over him! Even now, after he had had come to accept her refusal, he could not help but find himself drawn to her, though they be doomed to meet only as indifferent acquaintances. With a sigh, he made to wrench himself from his memories of things past and turn to face towards the direction of Netherfield. The corners of his eyes, however, caught a small brown blur as it flew from the front doorways of Longbourn and made for one of the large trees that stood sentinel over the path. He paused and observed as the figure appeared to sink into the cradle made from the tree's protruding roots. He turned to go, but found his traitorous legs turning in an altogether different direction. One step, two, and he drew ever closer.

Elizabeth Bennet was not usually one for wallowing. As she had once remarked to a disdainful Miss Bingley, she dearly loved to laugh. And yet, since meeting a certain gentleman, and particularly since a chance encounter at that gentleman's estate, she found herself more often than not in a pensive mood. In the drawing room, Mr. Bingley sat with Jane. The rest of the family was present, of course, but certainly Mr. Bingley had eyes only for the lady who had finally agreed to be his. Elizabeth was happy for Jane, she truly was. No one in the world deserved more happiness than her sweet sister, who endured with a sweetness that truly made her angelic. Heavens knew that Elizabeth could not sit idly while her family time and again embarrassed her with their conduct. She resisted the urge to snort as her mother once again remarked in her thoughtless way that Jane "could not have been so beautiful for naught" and at Kitty's giggle at the besotted manners of Mr. Bingley's gaze on the eldest Miss Bennet. At yet, even Elizabeth could not deny that Mrs. Bennet was truly happy for her daughter's impending marriage.

"When you have five daughters, Lizzie, tell me what else will occupy your thoughts!"

Such an honest answer from her mother made Elizabeth pause in her unkind thoughts. Her mother meant well. Indeed, perhaps her mother lived more in the realities of the world; a family of five daughters, an entail over the estate, what could they do but each marry as well as they could?

"It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, and even, on the occasion, your father."

Quite unbidden, his voice rang in her mind. As dearly as she loved her father, Elizabeth could admit that he was perhaps a bit negligent in bringing discipline to the household. She who was his favorite knew his preference for peace and his strong dislike for confrontations. What could her Mama do but take matters into her own hands and carry forth the best way she knew how? Elizabeth started at the thought; she knew that her conviction to marry for only the deepest love grew out of the disappointment that she saw in her own parents' marriage. Could it be that because of her unwillingness to malign her father, the man who had protected her from her mother's excesses, she had unknowingly put all the blame on her mother's shoulders? She was a silly woman and given to excesses, but she truly wanted the best for her girls, Elizabeth could see that now. Had he seen this truth? The comment on her father had hurt and Elizabeth had reacted in a rush of justified fury, but now, now that she has had time enough to ponder, she wondered at her reasons for resenting his abilities to speak the truth.

"Your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

Her own words came to her and she blushed with shame. Was she not the arrogant one? Did she not assume the worst of him without waiting to find evidence? Did she not consider herself of superior intellect when compared to that of her mother, her younger sisters, and indeed most of her neighbors? Witty Miss Elizabeth she had always been; did she not take pride in such a moniker? And yet, in her self-righteousness, she failed to consider the feelings of her own mother.

The cheerful voice of Mr. Bingley and the happy smile on Jane's face grew suddenly too much. Elizabeth stood and, with a quick apology, begged to be allowed outside for a bit of air. Mrs. Bennet shook her head at her wild ways and complained loudly of her unladylike preference for the outdoors. Mr. Bennet, however, only smiled gently and gave his approval.

"One of these days, Lizzie, someone will catch your eye and then you will have to watch your tongue."

As she sank onto the ground near the base of the old tree that stood guard over her home, Elizabeth could not help but shake her head. How right Jane had been! And now…now it is too late. He will leave, tomorrow. And surely he cannot love her still, he who laid bare to her all her faults, he who she had insulted in the worst ways. The roots of the tree hugged her close, the bark warm from the day's sun despite the waning light. And yet she still felt cold and drew her arms around herself, wishing that she could return to the simple way she had seen the world, before he had made it plain to her that she never did look deep enough in her study of character but only saw that which she wished to see. He had wounded her pride, even before they had been properly introduced, and in turn she sought to undermine his. And oh, but he did have reasons to be proud! To be Master of so wondrous an estate as Pemberley, to hold the loyalty of so large of a host of servants, and to possess the loving adoration of so sweet a sister, he truly was a rich man, in wealth and in goodness.

"Maybe it's that I find it hard to forgive the follies and vices of others, or their offenses against me. My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever."

Surely she must have lost his good opinions, her own follies in not seeing beneath his mask, in not even attempting to see.

"I... do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before."

He had admitted his flaw to her, and she, in her blindness, she had dismissed his honesty so callously.

"I will only add, God bless you."

How deep was her misery in that moment, to realize that she had truly succeeded in driving away the one man who might have offered her the challenge she so desired in a life partner. So concentrated was she on her thoughts that she was not aware of the presence of another until a shadow passed over her. Looking up, she felt her breath catch.

Darcy looked down at her, an expression of such uncertainty on her face, and felt himself falter. He knew not the words to say and could only look. That she did not send him away or look at him with disgust greatly cheered him and, as the silence stretched between them, the overwhelming rush of all that he felt for her, now matured with time and reflection, returned to him such that he felt almost unsteady on his feet.

The two might have remained thus until the sun had truly sank beneath the horizon but for Elizabeth's words. Summoning her courage, she spoke softly, "You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all your state."

Her voice held a hint of her usual impertinence even as her lips attempted, unsuccessfully, to capture the shadow of mockery. Darcy blinked at her a moment as the familiarity of her words washed over him. Though he did not smile, his eyes softened as he replied, "I am well enough acquainted with you, Miss Elizabeth, to know that I cannot alarm you, even should I wish it."

Her lips quirked upwards then, in the beginning of a true smile, an expression that widened as he made to sit on the grass across from her.

"You manservant will not appreciate the grass-stains." She could not help but tease, the old sparkle returning to her eyes.

"I daresay you are right, Miss Elizabeth."

"Are you always so agreeable, Mr. Darcy?"

"Only when I seek not to offend."

Despite her blush at the earnestness of his gaze, Elizabeth could not help but quip, "Do you wish to cause me alarm?"

Darcy looked down, abashed, "Is my presence so undesirable?"

"Oh no!" The quickness of her reply caused him to meet her eyes again and the hope he had felt grew once more. "That is…Mr. Darcy, I find that I am in your debt for assuring, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister."

Darcy shook his head, "You owe me no thanks, for I was only righting a wrong. I could not allow either my friend or your sister to continue to suffer in misery of the acutest kind."

"Allow?! You hold much sway over your friend, Mr. Darcy."

"I do not know how," he admitted, "for he has little reason to trust me again after the transgression I have made against his happiness. But for me, he might have been settled in wedded bliss months sooner. His easy forgiveness was truly humbling."

"Because of your own reluctance to forgive those who have wronged you?" Her voice had an almost sad quality to it.

Darcy sighed, "I will own that I do not trust easily, but my trust, once given, cannot easily be shaken."

"And what about Mr. Wickham?"

He was all surprise, "Mr. Wickham?"

She sighed, all signs of playfulness gone, as she revealed her knowledge of his part in the saving of another of her sisters. "You must not blame my Aunt Gardiner, for I fear Lydia quite gave it away in her eagerness to lord her marriage over my as yet unwedded state."

"I did not mean for you to know."

"I expect not, for you are not a boastful man. And yet…as I am now in possession of this intelligence, I seek only to inform you of my gratitude."

Darcy shook his head and looked away, wondering why he continued to torture himself so, "I do not wish for your gratitude."

She was silent a moment before stating boldly, "Then will you accept my admiration?"

He turned to her sharply and Elizabeth was certain now that she saw the hope in his expressions, "I am not certain I understand your meaning."

Elizabeth knew she must be the one to make amends, so deeply had she wronged him. And so, taking a deep breath, she quoted, ``In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and …and … and … love you.'' Though she stumbled over the last words, Elizabeth held his gaze. "Indeed, I now find that you offer, made last April, which had at one time been so disgusting to me, now gives quite the opposite impression."

He was silent, causing her great alarm that she had overstepped the bounds of propriety, until he asked, with a most becoming smile and a levity that made her breath in relief, "Might I ask why, with so great an endeavor at civility, I am thus granted, though belatedly, my greatest wish?"

She could only be honest in her reply, for he deserved nothing less, "I had unconsciously caused you pain, before I knew the truth of your character, before I knew even the truth of my feelings. I wish to make amends, not only out of gratefulness, but because I find that, upon further reflection, you were correct in that your honesty did wound me….And, I suppose, I could little expect you to offer your heart only to be rejected a second time. And so, I thought it only fitting that I should return your trust with that of my own."

The happiness which this reply produced, was such as Darcy had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. With a great laugh, he caught her hands in his and bestowed upon them most ardent kisses between his breathlessly spoken words, "You most singular woman! I assure you that my affections and wishes are quite unchanged except perhaps to grow all the stronger. I did not dare allow myself to hope… and yet, when I thought I detected your sadness at my impending departure, I found that I could not but stay just a little longer in your vicinity."

Such an impassioned display, so unlike that of his usual calm demeanor, rendered Elizabeth rather speechless. She could only blush as he continued to hold her hands in his, even as the kisses desisted in favor of his continued heartfelt words, "Tell me this is not a dream, for I have had enough of those. Elizabeth, tell me that you have indeed done me the honor of accepting my hand."

"I am resolute, sir, and my acceptance, now given, shall not be retracted."

"Then I had best speak to your father."

"My poor Papa, to have two such conversations in the same day."

"I would offer to call upon him on the morrow, but I fear I am impatient to obtain his permission, for I quite fear that you shall again change your mind."

At the insecurity of his words, Elizabeth felt rather in awe of the extent of her power over him. And so, she brought his hands, still clutching hers tightly, to her lips and rendered upon each a kiss, "Then I suppose Papa must bear with the lot of all fathers who find themselves in a position to lose their daughters in marriage."

"Are you certain?" he asked, "I know you hold great affection for your father."

Her heart softened further at his consideration, "Though you are a patient man, Mr. Darcy, I fear I am a most impatient woman. Besides, I expect that you might appreciate having Mr. Bingley present to share in Mama's attentions once our attachment is made known."

At the almost comical look of apprehension on his face at her reminder, Elizabeth could only chuckle, "It will be well, my love, I am certain Mr. Bingley's enthusiasm will more than make up for your silence. Though, if you continue to smile as you are doing now, perhaps Mama might be struck rather speechless."

Darcy smiled at her teasing words but suddenly froze as he thought on her chosen appellation for him. "My love?"

Elizabeth blushed at her slip of the tongue, "Forgive me, I fear I am being quite forward."

"Please…I have longed to hear such words pass from your lips. It gives me much comfort to hear them now."

"Well then," said she, even as he helped her to her feet, "let us enter the house, my love, so that you might gain your assurance as to our future."

The dusky sky at last faded to the soft darkness of night as the sun crossed the horizon at last. For the couple moving forward on the path, however, a new morning was just dawning.

* Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen