PROLOGUE

Jane slept peacefully for the first time in days.

For Elizabeth Bennet, the tranquil rest her sister enjoyed after many hours of tossing and turning, plagued by fever dreams, was a relief. The fever had broken and finally Jane could be said to be on the mend.

The happy news of this moment lent wings to Elizabeth's feet, her natural exuberance leading her out to the garden, as she simply felt too wonderful to be contained indoors another minute. Jane's relief quite caused her own, and she was determined to spend what little time she could outdoors before Jane woke and needed her once more.

Clasping her shawl around her shoulders lest she lose it, Elizabeth made her way down the path to the farthest corner of the garden, where she had discovered a secluded bench that was perfect for reading. She promised herself she would only indulge in a dozen pages or so before returning to the house, as she did not want Jane to wake alone should she require assistance.

Elizabeth pulled up short, shocked at the sight before her. None other than Fitzwilliam Darcy, the man who had been plaguing her with cunning barbs and ill-concealed insults at every turn, sat in her favorite spot. He caught sight of her and surged to his feet, giving her at least that much courtesy.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, quite forgetting her manners. Too late she recalled that while she was not necessarily a guest in his home, they were at Netherfield Park, the leased home of Darcy's good friend, Charles Bingley. She flushed a little upon hearing the shrewish tone come from her lips, but decided that she did not care enough to take it back.

He raised his eyebrows at her words, but made no attempts at reprimand, as she had half-expected that he would. He sat back down on the bench.

"How is your sister? I had heard that she is improving," he replied, ignoring her question.

"She is. Her fever has broken, and she is resting easily now. I imagine that we will be able to return home to Longbourn in a few days' time." Elizabeth thought that he would be pleased at the news, but he only looked down to the ground at her words.

"I apologize if our presence has caused you any discomfort," Elizabeth said, trying again to engage him in conversation. She would never discover why he was here, at the bench where she frequently came to read, unless he told her. But perhaps it was his favorite spot first, and she had been the one imposing this last week. "If you favor this bench, I can find a new one. I had only thought to come and read, giving Jane a few hours of rest in private."

"Not at all, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth frowned at him, unsure as to which statement he was disagreeing with. "You favor the bench not at all, or we have caused you no discomfort? Please, be more clear. I understand that you think me a simple, intolerable country girl, but it would help matters if you conversed by more than a half-dozen words at a time."

He looked up at her in shock, completely taken aback. It was a long moment before he finally said, "I do not think you simple, or intolerable. I regret that you heard my ill-spoken words at the assembly in Meryton, but I did not know you then, and have come to find you very tolerable, indeed. I can only hope that the sentiment is at least partially returned, but fear from your tone that it is not."

"You find me tolerable?" Elizabeth repeated in shock. "I honestly could not tell."

"More than tolerable, if you absolutely must know."

It was Elizabeth's turn to stare at him, wordless with surprise. "More than tolerable, you say? And, pray tell, what has brought about this sudden change?"

"It is something that I have been entertaining, against my better judgment for some time now."

"Oh, against your better judgment?" she repeated, taking offense. "I was under the impression that the esteemed Fitzwilliam Darcy never did anything against his better judgment."

"Do not be obstinate just to evade the matter at hand. I am trying to tell you how fond I have grown of you, but you are, as always, making it difficult."

Elizabeth had to remind herself not to gape at him in shock. "You do have a way with words, don't you? First I am tolerable, but only against your better judgment, then you call me obstinate and difficult in the same breath that you speak of fondness. Are you teasing me, sir? Have you come to ambush me in a secluded corner of the garden that you may regale me with your confusion regarding my person?"

Darcy leapt to his feet once more and began to pace, exasperation marring his handsome face. "Of course not. I am trying to convey my feelings to you, but this may have been ill-advised."

Elizabeth threw her hands into the air. "To what purpose? I thought that you had made your feelings perfectly clear up until this point, and only now find myself to be confused. Perhaps it is a good thing that Jane and I will be leaving soon."

"Miss Bennet. I apologize that you had such a low opinion of my feelings toward you, and hope to remedy that situation. To what end you ask, well, I had hoped to come to an agreement between us."

"What kind of agreement?" she asked with suspicion. "I may not be as worldly or wealthy as you are, sir, but I do not enter into agreements with men."

"Heavens, no. Not that kind of agreement. Why do you even know of such a thing?" Darcy was surprised.

"People talk, sir. The only other agreement that comes to mind is one of marriage, and you could not possibly be suggesting such a thing. Why, the entire idea is laughable."

He stopped pacing and gave her a long look. "Why is that?"

"You, propose marriage to me?! You said a moment ago that you think me obstinate, difficult and you are only fond of me against your better judgment. You could not possibly desire to form such an attachment to me as marriage would require, unless you are under duress. Does this have something to do with the letter you and Mr. Bingley were discussing in the library after dinner last night?"

"You heard us?"

"Well, you certainly were not being discreet with your conversation. I was not trying to listen, and that is why I retired early. All I know is that your aunt wrote to you, requesting your presence at Rosings Park with some urgency."

"Yes, she has asked for me. It seems that my cousin, Anne, is not doing well."

Elizabeth faltered in her outrage. His cousin is not doing well. That is concerning, indeed. "Mr. Darcy," she gentled her tone, for she knew that he must be worried and it was, perhaps, causing him to be slightly more arrogant than usual. "You have my sympathies regarding your cousin, and I do hope that she makes a full recovery from whatever ails her, but I fail to see what that has to do with proposing to me."