AN: Warning - this chapter is more geared towards mature audiences. While it is not explicit, it comes close to mentioning rape. Don't worry, everyone's virtue is intact.

Chapter 3: Emotional Overload

Elizabeth remained outside for another fifteen minutes. She was angry with herself that she had lashed out at him so. It was certainly not in her nature before. Jane would be disappointed if she ever found out. But what was worse, she was intrigued. She wanted to know what happened that even a hint of the past was enough for him to lose control.

Returning inside, she immediately retired to her room and only left it to check on Jane. This night, Jane slept easier, although Elizabeth remained by her side, more for the distraction it afforded than any need from Jane. The night passed slowly, but it did end. Jane was feeling much better but still needed plenty of rest. Elizabeth had already finished the book she was reading, so she descended the stairs, hoping to find the library empty. It was not.

Mr. Darcy sat in a chair beside the empty fireplace. While he might have been engrossed in his book, he rose and greeted her properly, effectively setting the book aside. "Good morning, Miss Bennet."

"Good morning, sir." Elizabeth began and quickly continued. "I have been hoping to speak with you. I must apologize for my forwardness the previous evening. I was rude, and my behavior was unacceptable."

Mr. Darcy felt uncomfortable. He usually had women fawning over him, and he could now see that Elizabeth did not look kindly towards him. It had been a hard night, realizing this truth. He had not allowed his affection for her to grow, but it had all the same. The thought that she disliked him was disheartening. Now, he noted how tired she appeared. He could not help wishing to comfort her and help her to sleep. He stood longer in his contemplation than was proper, and shaking himself out of his stupor, he noticed Elizabeth was looking at him oddly. "May I help you find a book?"

"No, I need not be very choosy. We will not be staying here much longer, and Jane is feeling better, giving me more time to sleep." She turned away and glanced at the shelves. She felt courage from the smell of dusty volumes. "I am curious, Mr. Darcy. Last night, you declared that he lied to me. How do you know what he said?"

Mr. Darcy seethed. Why must every conversation go back to that devil? "Because he is incapable of recounting the truth. You enjoy sketching characters. I am surprised you missed that component of his character."

"I saw truth in his eyes. He is every part a gentleman, deserving of respect. How could you have denied him the living your father wished him to have? Forcing him to live impoverished, working as a militia man to keep his way, it is unthinkable. Have you no honor?"

Mr. Darcy was close to breaking, but he responded with only a slight lift to his voice. "I have it in spades. I loved my father. That is the only reason I offered him the living in the first place."

"What?" Elizabeth was dumbfounded.

He took a few deep breaths to calm his blood, which was racing through his veins. It irked him even more that the spark had reappeared in Elizabeth's eyes, but she was defending Wickham, not debating something with himself. "Yes, I was the one that offered him the living after my father died. He left that part out of his story you heard. Yes, I offered him the living and he refused it, stating that he wished to study the law. He asked for and was given three thousand pounds in addition to his inheritance. He gambled and squandered it away on loose women within a year. He returned to my door saying his situation was dire. He asked for the living, stating his change of heart. I do not consider myself wrong for refusing him. He still holds it against me, though. He even tried to take away everything I hold dear." He stopped and turned away.

The emotion in his voice stunned Elizabeth. She could not disbelieve him. But this would not make him so upset. There must be more to the truth. Without knowing anything further, she silently cursed Mr. Wickham for inciting her so much. Wanting to know more, she slowly stepped closer to him. "How did he hurt you?" She asked gently, but he still did not respond for some time, hoping to calm his agitation.

"He wanted revenge for not getting more money from me. A year later, he sought my sister's fortune of thirty thousand pounds. This summer, when she was only fifteen, she was away at Ramsgate with her companion. He met her there and convinced her to feel something akin to love for him. They had almost agreed to elope, but her will was stronger than he expected. She wished for my presence at her wedding. He had not told her of his estrangement. He knew what I would say and what I would do. I visited them unexpectedly, in time to see the effects of his impatience."

Elizabeth was astonished beyond belief. The thought of a fifteen year old girl, completely unknowing of the world around her, being taken in by a scoundrel, was atrocious. "He could not have hurt her." She could not say more.

But what she said was too much. Mr. Darcy snapped. "Could he not? Your favorite gentleman tried to have his way with her. I came into the room and found them together. She was terrified." He stepped very close to her, barely seeing the surprise in her eyes. He grabbed her waist and guided her back until she was against the wall. She was too shocked to scream. "Imagine how she felt. She was fifteen. Her governess, in league with the devil, had left the room. She could not stop him."

His hands traveled over her shoulders and down her sides. "She thought he loved her, but that was not love. When he protested, he pushed his body against hers. When she attempted to scream, he stopped her voice with a kiss so cruel she carried a bruise for a week. That was how I found them. He had her trapped, and he was pulling her skirt up, intending to force her innocence. Do you need me to demonstrate how terrified she was?" He stared at her eyes, not taking in her expression.

When she did not respond, he leaned closer to her lips. His anger told him to be brutal, and his desire to touch the minx who had tempted him for weeks was too strong. His scent made her dizzy, and she could not move. She knew she should be terrified, but she was not. His body was pressed against hers, and she felt an unknown passion rise in her from the closeness. When his lips finally met hers, they were gentle and loving. Her soft lips drove him to distraction, and he nudged them open to taste her further. He moaned as he felt her respond to his kiss, but all too soon he felt her arms on his chest, pushing him away.

Suddenly, their circumstances hit him forcefully. He had compromised her. He looked at her expectantly, hoping to see an answer to his fear. The look in her eyes was a mixture of confusion with a glint of passion that he had awakened. He stepped away and mumbled a small "Forgive me" before turning and walked out of the room as fast as he could. He stumbled on the way, but he did not stop until he was safe in his chambers.

With the door safely shut, he released his thoughts. He had compromised a maiden. He was no better than Wickham in that regard, although he did stop when Elizabeth pushed him away. But the thought of Elizabeth's touch only kindled his blood. He had no options now. He must offer Elizabeth his hand in marriage. He would marry her and treat her with kindness for the rest of his days. Surely, she would be pleased to have made such a match.

But how should he approach her? He could not compromise her farther. One thought of her lips and he worried he would lose control again. He must get his urges under control before he see her again.

He stepped over to his writing desk and took out a sheet of paper. It was the safest way. As he wrote, he thought of Elizabeth at Pemberley. She would make an excellent sister to Georgiana, who desperately needed the right guidance before she entered society. Elizabeth might be unfamiliar in his social circle, but she would excel all the same. He smiled and finished the letter.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, remained in the library for another half an hour. While she attempted to concentrate on what Mr. Darcy had said, her mind kept wandering to how he had touched her. Her lips and waist still felt warm from his touch. She touched her lips with the tips of her fingers. If she had been any less affected, she would not have believed it possible. It was too real to think rationally.

Her mind wandered to Miss Darcy's story. At sixteen, to be duped by someone thought to be a friend. He had said that her lips were bruised for a week. She looked around and found a mirror hanging on a wall. She approached it and observed her face. She could not perceive any difference. Mr. Darcy had been very gentle. His actions went against everything she had thought him capable of. She remembered the feeling that oozed from his voice as he spoke of Miss Darcy.

How could he have been kind to her when she had just accused him of treachery in regards to Mr. Wickham. It must have been hard for him to share this with her. Suddenly the pride and reticence she had observed in him made sense. He was burdened by grief over his sister. She suddenly realized she could forgive him for insulting her at the Meryton Assembly.

This thought brought on a new emotion: shame. She was ashamed of herself for believing the conniving Mr. Wickham. Even after she returned to her room, it was another hour before she could tend to Jane. She remained in Jane's room for the rest of the day. Thankfully, she could use Jane's illness as an excuse to not go down to dinner. She did not feel equal to sitting with the Bingleys and Mr. Darcy tonight.

AN: I promise to come back to this story. I am simply finishing the other one first. This one is to be my masterpiece.