Tonight was a strange night. It would have been without a doubt more bearable if my dearest sister, Jane, were sitting with me when Ms. Bingley recognized my dress from four seasons ago, or when Mrs. Hurst laughed at the title of the book I was reading, or when Mr. Darcy seemed astonished that I could read at all. I sat beside Jane, grinning as rosy color spread over her pale cheeks after I relayed the concerns brought to my attention by her sweet Mr. Bingley.

"Stop it, Lizzy. Don't tease me so. It is far too early to expect. We hardly had time to talk!"

"So you do expect something from him! Jane dear, I love the redness of your face. Cease now before you look feverish. I do wish you would get better as soon as you can."

I kissed her forehead, said goodnight, and skipped out of the room before she could admonish me. As the door shut behind me, I let out a laugh and went on my way. Images of Jane and Charles together fly across my mind––yes, I shall call him Charles in my head, because he is destined to be my brother––they would look so happy together. I almost hope that I could have my own Mr. Bingley, as well.

No, Mr. Bingley would not do for me. True, he has the most pleasant countenance, friendliest manners and kindest gestures. However, he confessed to having not much care for his library. While that would mean nothing to Jane, it means much to me that my husband and I could retire to the library for quiet reading or lively discussion.

"Stop! Why in the world am I thinking about a husband?" Again, eternally to my shame. I have told my four sisters that I never wished to marry. All of them believed me. All except Jane. She, being the closest to my heart, heard the slight hitch in my voice after I uttered the last word. Although the sentence came more and more naturally to me in the occasions after, Jane would always smile at me and say her favorite word for me, "No."

Sighing, I entered my room, smiling at the sight of comfortable bed. The smell of fresh linen increased my appreciation for the kind staff who accommodated me despite my unexpected presence. If only Ms. Bingley would treat them with more respect...

I removed my hairpins, brushing my hair quickly. After changing into my nightdress, I dived under covers and inhaled deeply. Sleep took me away.

~o~

Caresses carried me back.

I feel strange. Will strangeness never end? My back feels warm and protected. There is whispering in my ears, touching softly the back of my neck. A hand caressed my cheek, once, twice, before sliding over my clavicle and curving under my breast. My eyes snap open, as a thumb moves across my nipple, back and forth, gently in slow repetition. I struggle to breathe, becoming physically aware of the person who had his arms wrapped around me. A man's chest has been keeping my back warm! Oh.

I moan involuntarily as unfamiliar sensations begin to overwhelm me. Telling myself to get away is futile. His other hand has moved down to my thigh, touching but not staying.

"I need to see him," I mutter to myself, "I need to."

And so I turn my head to look behind––to see the face of this man, wishing it was he whom I claimed to dislike yet could not help but secretly admire––the very one whom I imagined sharing a library with.

"Mr. Darcy, please." Words slipped out of my mouth without permission before I even saw that it was indeed Mr. Darcy. My eyes roll back in pleasure when his hand switched course, dragging my nightdress up to impress warmth on my stomach. Temporarily without sight, I catch the words that the man has been murmuring for me to hear, "Lizzy, my Lizzy. Intelligent. Most beautiful."

His Lizzy? This must be a dream... this must be! I turn again to look at him and notice immediately that he appears to be sleeping, with his face settling into the crook of my neck and his mouth opening slightly to...snore. It was then when I registered that his hands have ceased their initial movements and decided on clasping together to hold me closer.

My cheeks begin to twitch. I wanted to laugh, and I did, but it came out weakly. Although there exists in me a Lizzy who thinks of the most outrageous things, I do not have enough courage to do them. The situation begs fixing. Carefully, I unclasp his hands and reluctantly remove myself from his embrace. I stand beside the bed, unsure of what to do. Or what to think.

Did he mean to seek me out? Or did he by chance enter the wrong room? If he did, how could he not have seen me? Did he see me and still chose to sleep here? Or did he slip under covers and slept promptly, only calling my name because he was... dreaming. Mr. Darcy dreaming of me!

"Drat! I must cease my questions and start deciding where to put myself. This is, clearly, my room albeit borrowed. I own the small case positioned at the foot of the bed. There is no place I should be at this hour other than this room."

It took some time, and a whole lot of effort to process the situation, for my mind was foggy with unmistakable desire. I could not even consider the idea of moving the man back to his room. However, if he and I were discovered to have stayed in the same room the entire night long, then we would have both been ruined and worse, forced to marry.

My heart tells me that I will not be averse to marriage, nor would Mr. Darcy be, judging by his behavior. In the end, it was my mind that won the argument when I took on my dressing gown and walked out the door, seeking refuge in the library, one floor below.