Caroline Bingley was an accomplished woman. She considered herself clever and cunning. She had often used them to get her way. Was it not universally acknowledged that a woman with her wiles should be desperate enough to trap a man of large fortune? Aye. It was universally acknowledged indeed. She was very ecstatic to learn that Mr. Darcy was to stay with them for quite some time at Netherfield. She should play the responsible and doting hostess while Mr. Darcy was under their roof. After all, he did need a woman by his side who could manage his estate with him.

It's not only because the man was wealthy. Oh no. Mr. Darcy was incredibly handsome and tall. He was always brooding, which Caroline found charming. Any woman had a prerogative to like a man with Mr. Darcy's person. His voice was baritone, dark and deep, and he had piercing dark blue eyes. His broad shoulders were something she could depend upon, if dire circumstances were raised. She would very much like that. It would make her plans more easier.

With all that in mind, she set her cap at Mr. Fitzwilliam Marcus Darcy.

"Mr. Darcy." Caroline called out at the table. Across her was Mr. Darcy who was silently eating his collation. "Would you fancy a stroll around the garden thereafter?"

He nodded distractedly. She watched as Mr. Darcy's gaze flick to Miss Eliza. The woman looked at his way and he quickly turned his head away, clenching his jaw and blushing. Caroline quietly seethed at this exchange and threw a surreptitious look at the chestnut-haired woman. That country chit! What did she have that Caroline didn't? She was tolerable! Mr. Darcy said so himself. But he also said her dark eyes were quite pretty. Dark! Her eyes were nothing remarkable. They were plain dark green. What was so enchanting with it? This Bennet girl had no dowry, no prospects, and had pitious connections! Adding the fact that she's an impertinent bluestocking. Louisa and she were snickering silently when Miss Eliza argued with Mr. Darcy about farming methods! She was positively ridiculous.

Why was Charles raising Miss Bennet hopes and Mr. Darcy staring at Miss Eliza? The chit was oblivious and impertinent. How could this woman, who prided herself of being a scholar in character study, not notice the reason behind his wandering eye? It was a comfort in her part nonetheless to know that he did not and would never make a move to court Miss Eliza.

She knew Mr. Darcy enough that he wouldn't lower himself. And so, she could see herself by next year, comfortably settled at Pemberley with a Darcy heir on the way.

Caroline donned her best night gown, unpinned her red hair, and trekked the halls with her feet bared. She almost skipped along the way. Mr. Darcy was at the library to return the book he finished and she was assured that he would come back in no time. She was giddy with excitement. Goodness gracious, was she so desperate to have Mr. Darcy?

Why, yes indeed! What better to do than compromise the most eligible man in her acquaintance!

Fitzwilliam entered his chambers, yawning, and closed the doors with a thud. Not bothering to look around his dark room, he carefully discarded his cravat and boots and slumped on his bed. He stiffened, however, at discovering that his hand landed on something cold and soft, instead on the covers he had been accustomed to.

He almost shrieked in horror upon discovering that it was Caroline Bingley lying on his bed. She was posed into, he supposed, a seductive position. Fitzwilliam fell from the bed and could only crawl away. "Miss Bingley!" He exclaimed. "What are you doing here?" He asked, alarmed.

"Mr. Darcy, I believe you owe me a proposal."

"Proposal?" He said, bewildered. His eyes flickered to the door and back at her. She caught the look and sprinted to the door to guard it. Fitzwilliam paled. He should not be caught with this crazy woman or he would suffer for the rest of his life. "I have not an inkling of what you are talking about Miss Bingley." He glared at her. "I demand you get out of my room this instant."

"I think not." She rebuked.

"Do you realize what you are doing, Miss Bingley? You are risking your reputation for nothing."

"By the end of this night, we are to be engaged, Mr. Darcy. We have breached all matters of propriety between a man and a woman. I have lain in your bed already and you have seen me in my gown. We are inevitable, sir." She said huskily, her pretty features set into a stubborn frown.

He gritted his teeth.

"You are delusional to think that I would marry you, Miss Bingley." Fitzwillliam said, his voice trembling in suppressed anger. "Get out."

"No, I shall not. I tolerated your responses of me long enough. You are good at keeping your feelings to yourself, Fitzwilliam. I was forced to consider you were indifferent to me."

"Do not address me so familiarly. I may be great friends with your brother but that is all. In addition, I am indifferent you. I think you are a simpering mercenary. I am an honorable man, Miss Bingley but I am also rich. I can cover up this scandal before the servants talk. Now, I will ask this of you once again, leave my room." He said calmly, glaring at her.

She laughed shrilly. "That is not simple, Mr. Darcy." She reverted back to calling him in his title.

He clenched his jaw. "I thought so." Before Miss Bingley could even reply, he grabbed his cravat and boots and sprinted to the balcony, jumping out in the open and landing on the soft grassy soil. He was sprawled on it and he panted heavily.

A gasp was heard from his side and he opened his eyes, finding the woman who currently plagued his dreams looking down at him in surprise. "Mr. Darcy?" She said, incredulous. "Are you all right sir?" He quickly got up, wincing as he did, and composed himself, all the while putting on his booth and fixing his cravat. She simply gaped at him in astonishment. He was quick in his feet and he grabbed her wrist.

"Miss Elizabeth, forgive me but I —" he huffed a breath. "I am in serious trouble." Damn it all, his flesh was beat from impact.

"It would appear so, sir." Her voice was curious and her eyes were wide in shock. "I could only imagine the reason behind the hasty retreat from your own bedroom."

He cringed and led her away from the sight of his balcony. She let out a protest and he ignored her. The moon was bright and the fragrant flowers wafted around the place. He swallowed. "Mr. Darcy, how dare you manhandle me!" She said, eyes flashing. Observing his countenance, she softened and said, "For goodness' sake, sir, what happened to you? You look haunted."

"Miss Bingley slipped into my room without my notice and," he closed his eyes. "I had no choice. She was barricading the door and the balcony was my only option."

Understanding dawned on her face.

"Was she trying to compromise you?"

"Yes, she was trying." A wry look upon his face. He looked pained. "But she was unsuccessful. I am only hoping that she does not go screaming that I forced myself upon her."

"Did you, sir?"

He was appalled. "Of course, not! I will never!" She jumped at his fervent reply. "Miss Elizabeth, you may think me disdainful but you must know me enough to believe that I will do no such thing."

"I believe you, sir." She smiled comfortingly. He could not help but to relax. "Only an idiot would not notice that Miss Bingley had set her eyes on you." She squeezed his hand. Both of their hands were ungloved. Fitzwilliam stiffened at the warm contact. Elizabeth immediately withdrew her hand to her side. He subconsciously flexed his hand. "You have yourself a witness, Mr. Darcy. You need not worry. I will vouch for you and I shall them tell how you valiantly escaped Miss Bingley's clutches by jumping out the balcony." She teased.

Fitzwilliam never thought a woman could be more beautiful. He was bewitched. If there was a woman he could be caught with, it would be her. Willingly. He would surrender. "Thank you." He said, face still flush from what happened. "Pardon me, but what are you doing so late at night outside, Miss Elizabeth?"

"So late at night, sir? I believe it is only quarter to nine." He shrugged and she smiled. "I could not sleep. I planned to read a book in the library but you were there. I could not find myself to disturb your reading."

"Ah, but the library is at your disposal now."

"Yes." She said. They stared at each other before she tugged at her unbound hair consciously. Fitzwilliam was tempted to rake his hand through her curls and close their distance. He was in danger now. His plans of persuading Charles that Miss Bennet was not worthy of his attentions and leaving Meryton were gone. They were replaced by the instinct to stay and court this lady who was everything he ever wanted.

"I hope Miss Bennet is getting better."

She nodded, brightening. He knew she loved her sister dearly. It was why he contemplated the idea of marrying her. Georgiana needed a role model like Elizabeth. She'd encourage his sister to come out of her shell.

"She is getting better. Thank you for asking." She bit her lip. Fitzwilliam all but groaned in his head. "What are you going to do now?"

"Now that Miss Bingley has finally made a move on me? Lock my door perhaps and order my valet to watch my door. But if it is not proven effective, my only option would be leaving Netherfield." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am only here to advise Bingley on managing his new estate."

She raised her brow. "And Mr. Bingley leans upon your judgement?"

"Not exactly. But he does value my opinions."

She watched him with a hint of curiosity in her green eyes. "You puzzle me, Mr. Darcy. You are not quite the man I thought you to be."

"Are your opinions of me in the negative?"

She looked thoughtful. "I'm not certain. Perhaps I will tell you of them tomorrow morning. I could not form any judgement while I am on my drab nightdress and you are with your ruffled cravat. However, since we are still properly dressed and our intentions nothing close to scandalous, would you mind talking with me while we head inside? It is the least I could do for a distress damoiseau." She did not know why she was offering the man company. She disliked him, didn't she? Oh, but he looked so flustered that she took pity in him. The man, though supercilious, had wit that she almost enjoyed verbally sparring with him.

His jaw clenched.

"You are a study of character, are you, Miss Elizabeth?"

She reluctantly nodded. "Yes."

"Then you must notice Miss Bingley's—"

"Pursuits?" She supplied, an amuse smile on her lips.

He heaved a sigh.

"She has been err . . . fawning over me since we were introduced and it had not occurred to me that she'll —" he cleared his throat, uncomfortable. "Well, you know." He lamely finished.

"You are too modest sir." He wasn't sure if she were teasing.

He huffed. "It is but the truth, madam."

"Pray that we are not seen wandering the grounds. It is enough that Miss Bingley has almost compromised you. A man could only take so much." Oh ho! She was teasing. She clamped her intertwined hands behind her and said, her tone light, "It is rather chilly tonight."

"Indeed but I am much too inclined to freeze to death than be under the same roof with her at the moment." He shuddered at the thought of returning. He looked around the garden, lit only by the glow of the moon and the torches. His anger towards Miss Bingley was abating but his disgust remained and even increased at the position she thrust him in.

Fitzwilliam looked at Miss Elizabeth and wondered why she had not made her excuse to leave and be in her chambers. Her dislike of him was quite blatant and he had not done anything to diminish it.

A pregnant silence came between them. Elizabeth bit her lip and rubbed her neck awkwardly. She did not know how to warmly interact with a man she openly despised. However, could she be blamed for harboring such feelings to a man who returned the very same sentiments? She observed the silent contempt written in his face whenever her family was in the same vicinity. She felt ashamed and angry at both Darcy and her family. A man like him who mingled with the first society should naturally scorn the country ton. But his friend was a different case. How could an amiable gentleman such as Bingley could be intimate with a cold, proud man?

'She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.' Elizabeth recalled having told the incident to her friends with great spirit. She dismissed it as of little importance but she could never forget it. It stung her and her pride was mortified. Now how was she to judge Mr. Darcy if he was here with her outside the gardens, very close to discussing his nigh nuptials with Miss Bingley (if they had been unfortunately caught), and her opinions proved to be volatile? It was a hapless affair and she was chagrined to discover the failings of her discernment. Perhaps she should endeavour to truly know this man.

She had seen him vulnerable, albeit, in an embarrassing situation. And instead of dismissing her with his usual austere disposition, he even welcomed a chat with her. Singular man. Argh. She was looking into this too much. Yes, she was overthinking. He was still the prideful gentleman who held contemptuous thoughts to people below his circle. However tall and handsome he was.

She was floored at the sudden epiphany. Handsome? Do I find him attractive? Her inside were in turmoil and she found herself blushing in spite of her feelings. Yes. He is attractive. More so than Mr. Bingley but to the eyes of many, he is the lesser one. Mr. Bingley is everything a gentleman ought to be and that makes him handsomer than him.

Overwhelmed by her unsolicited thoughts of him, she didn't notice him asking her. She blinked, flustered, and found him staring down at her with a concerned look on his face. "Miss Elizabeth, perhaps we've overstayed our welcome in the gardens. Your clothes are far too unsuitable for the cold. We should hurry now." He offered his arm and she smiled faintly at him before thanking him quietly.

"Forgive me for musing, Mr. Darcy, you must think me so idle."

"Not at all." Was his casual reply.

"Are you recovered now, sir? Guilt would haunt me to let you leave unguarded."

He grinned at her, dimples appeared. Elizabeth looked at her feet. "Tables have turned, have they not? A man should now be as vigilant as the next woman beside him. I thought only men are capable of such doings but I was mistaken. Gender beliefs embedded in our minds are too misleading, are they not, Miss Elizabeth?"

She laughed, the lively sound reverberating around the place, coloring the quiet, gray night. "Oh, no. I long thought that both our genders are capable of compromising one another. It is unexpected, in our part, however, for our gender is seen as the more weaker in both will and strength."

"Are you always so severe on your own sex, Miss Elizabeth?" He held a small smile, recalling their earlier conversation.

"Honestly, Mr. Darcy, you wound me. You have not even answered my question."

He nodded, mirth shining in his eyes. "Yes, I am recovered."

"Well then, to answer your question, I am. Occasionally, at least. Since most men I have met are foolish and like to think that our kind play only subordinate roles in society, I flatter them. Of course, I disagree."

"I thank you for not thinking me foolish enough to honor me with such ideas. You must indulge me still why you think it that way, Miss Elizabeth."

She smiled teasingly, relaxing in his presence.

"Ah, shall we discuss the denigration of my sex by society? I admit this is a delicate subject to broach. I fear I may offend you, Mr. Darcy."

He cleared his throat and exclaimed, "Agree to disagree, madam!" Elizabeth stifled a giggle that bubbled up her throat. "No?" She was uncertain still. He looked straight ahead and said, "Women have seldom sufficient employment to silence their feelings; a round of little cares, or vain pursuits frittering away all strength of mind and organs, they become naturally only objects of sense."

A smirk crept to Elizabeth's lips. Her dark green eyes glinted challengingly. "Sir, is my hearing impaired or did you quote Mary Wollstonecraft?"

"Your hearing is not impaired, Miss Elizabeth. I did quote her. I have read some of her works and I beg you to not be concerned about my opinions on it."

She bit her lip, looking up at him wistfully. Truly, he puzzled her. What a complex man.

As though spellbound, Darcy leaned in. And it was not a matter of time before he laid a hand on her waist and pulled her flush to him. Her eyes widened but she did nothing to push him away. "Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. I can't take it anymore." Soft lips crashed into hers. Elizabeth gasped, her mind spun as she encircled her arms on his neck and held him close. The next thing she knew, she was kissing him back. For a moment, her dislike for the man was forgotten and all she could think about was how close and tight he held her.

Fire ignited in her chest, the burning sensation sweeping throughout her body.

She was kissing Mr. Darcy!

His hand wandered, caressing her waist and coming up to her bodice, feeling his hard hands through the fabric of her gown. Elizabeth suppressed a moan and clutched a handful of his hair. She had never kissed a man and she had no experience to compare this kiss with Mr. Darcy other than the chaste kiss John Lucas gave her on the cheeks when they were but children.

"Mr. Darcy. . ." Her voice was breathless and eyes glassy and dazed. Fitzwilliam was pleased to see the glaze look on her face. She looked thoroughly ravished. When he leaned in as though to kiss her again, she put a hand on his chest and pushed him away. She covered a hand on her reddening face. "Mr. Darcy, this is improper. I can not—" she swallowed, recalling the quiet moans she gave him. "You must think me wanton."

He stepped forward and gently took hold of her thin wrists to remove her hands on her lovely face. "Miss Elizabeth, you are far from such a description. You are the most passionate and beautiful woman of my acquaintance. Please," he gulped anxiously. "Allow me to court you."

She shook her head, ignoring what his declaration, and he was alarmed to discover there were tears in her eyes. "No, sir. Do not be obligated to court me. I do not wish for both of our parties to be burdened by a mere kiss. We have little to no affection."

"But—"

"Sir," She said, almost pleadingly. "If you are pursued by your conscience, then I release you from your obligation. You need not be guilty of our actions. I—you—we—our—

He cut off her rambling, smiling sadly, "Miss Elizabeth, I want you to let me hear my side. I genuinely want to court you. Not because I feel responsible for kissing you. Should I apologize for it?" With the imperceptible shake of her head, he continued, "Forgive me then for I do not feel guilty at all for kissing you. I initiated the kiss. I should be the one at fault."

She looked at him defiantly, raising her chin and clenching her skirts in her hand. "I thought you only saw me as merely tolerable? I was not handsome enough to tempt you for a dance, was I, Mr. Darcy? So I apologize for being dubious about your regard for me."

He visibly flinched. "I was in a sour mood that evening and I had not even looked at you. I only saw a woman and I was annoyed at Charles for badgering me to dance. When I saw you across the hall, Miss Elizabeth, I could not deny I was enamoured with you."

She arched a brow. "The manifestation methods of your affections is quite strange, Mr. Darcy. Do they always come with an air of indifference and the propensity to disagree with the opinions of the object of your affections?"

He bowed his head. "I am half-inlove with you already, Miss Elizabeth." He released a dark chuckle. "Believe me when I say I saw fit to leave this county for thinking I am in danger."

She narrowed her green eyes at him but he could see they softened. Her fingers trembled and she was pale. "Danger, sir? If you think you are in peril for possessing feelings for me then we are not suitable for each other at all."

He started but stopped. He could not speak, lest he could spout another set of words that could make her doubt him more. He tread carefully, "I have declared my intentions, Miss. May I ask why I am thus so rejected with so little civility?"

"You have implied that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and perhaps even against your character, Mr. Darcy." She calmly brushed her gown.

"I implied nothing." He denied vehemently.

"Then do you deny it?" She leveled his stare.

His anger flared. How dare she held his regard for her trivial? "Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?—to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?"

She was seeing more and more of the man she had molded in her mind. Cruel and proud. "And this! — you ask me why my incertitude for what you have expressed is borne, your statement is the very reason why, sir. From the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, have told me that you are the last man I could ever be prevailed on to be intimate with." She curtsied coldly. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Darcy. I bid you goodnight." She turned her back on him and started to walk upstairs, not even once glancing back at him.

Fitzwilliam Darcy helplessly and wordlessly watched Elizabeth walk away. Shame washed over him and he turned away silently. He stood at the empty parlor for minutes before calling his valet to guard his door. When he reached his chambers, he found no Caroline Bingley and was relieved to see the peace of the house remain.

"Wyatt?" Darcy called.

"Yes, sir?" His valet replied behind the door.

"Wake me up early. We head for London."

"Sir?" Wyatt asked, confused.

"Business matters." He said gruffly.

"As you wish, sir."

Notes: I'm not a native speaker so feel free to correct me. My friend who obsesses over P&P has inspired me to write this fic. She didn't know I wrote this so cheers! This is my first Pride and Prejudice fanfic. I'd appreciate if you lot go easy on me.