AN: Hey everybody. I got this idea from reading some stories from this site. Unfortunately I don't remember the names or I would give them credit because they were awesome. Anyway, I just posted a really dark and depressing chapter of a HSHS, so I decided my dear readers (that is if you're still with me) needed some fluff. Enjoy!

That odious toad! How dare he insult her even as he proposed? Mr. Collins may have been a most eligible man by way of society's standards but in Elizabeth Bennett's mind, he was just another arrogant, idiotic man who didn't know how to dance. Her toes were still hurting from the night before. After he had tried and failed to convince her to marry him, she had escaped into the woods for some peace. It was her safe haven and if she ever married, she would miss it terribly. She had shared these woods with imaginary princes and knights in her childhood, and later in life, she still occasionally found herself imagining the man she hoped to marry. He would be kind, gentle, hopefully handsome, and she would love him whole-heartedly. It didn't matter to her whether he had money or not. To her, love was much more important.

Today was different though. She was done thinking of gentlemen, and marriage. She just wanted to get her cares off her chest. Her forest was perfectly happy and willing to keep her secrets, and since there was no one around, she figured it couldn't hurt.

"Hello, trees," she greeted them, unaware of another presence on the path. "I haven't been out in a long time, have I? I have missed you terribly, especially with Mama in such a rage. Oh, that reminds me. I come bearing news. Mr. Collins has proposed…" As she said this, she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her.

Mr. Darcy had been walking this morning to clear his head before setting of to London with Charles. He'd never admit that he was trying to get a certain lady with sparkling gray eyes out of his mind. Just dancing with her last night had nearly undone his resolve. He would not be taken in but a country chit without a penny to her name. Then he had seen her on the same path the he walked and his feet carried him closer to her unknowingly. When he heard her speak, he was mesmerized. Elizabeth—Miss Elizabeth—was talking to the trees like a child. Did she have no one else to speak to? She can speak to me, he thought. I wouldn't mind at all. He mentally berated himself. This whole excursion was to help him forget about Elizabeth. Then she had said that toady had proposed and he couldn't keep his reaction silent. Elizabeth turned and focused her clear steel eyes on him.

"What're you doing here?" she demanded sharply and instantly blushed. She had meant for it to come out that way. "I'm sorry, but I've had a trying morning and not very good company at the moment. If you'll excuse me." She then tried to walk past him, back toward Longbourne but a gentle hand on her arm stopped her.

"Please forgive my intrusion," he murmured, softly running his hand over her arm. He knew he shouldn't but here in the early morning after a long night dreaming of her, he just couldn't help himself. I love her, he realized. He didn't know how or when but he had fallen in love with Elizabeth Bennett.

"I heard you say that Mr. Collins has proposed," he said, taking his hand off her arm when he noticed his pink cheeks.

"You were listening?" she gasped his horror and hid her face. "This is really most embarrassing."

"Miss Bennett," Mr. Darcy chuckled, "I assure you that I had no intention of mocking you. I'm simply curious as to why the trees are your confidante and not an actual person." Her face was still hidden but now she was hiding her shock. He had chuckled. The proud Mr. Darcy had actually chuckled. Lizzie felt his hands wrap around her wrists and pull them away from her face. "Miss Bennett?" he asked. "Are you alright? I must admit that I never thought you would be shy." She snorted in a way that would make her mother wince.

"It is true that 'shy' is not a term usually applied to me," she said. "Impertinent? Yes. Rude? Yes. Shy? No. I'm out here talking to trees because no one at home seems to understand and I just need to talk to someone."

"What exactly don't they understand?"

She sighed. "Me. My decisions."

"That's not very helpful, Miss Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy commented. "I believe there is a bench over this way. Why don't we sit down and you can tell me all about you trying morning. I think it will do you some good." She looked at him strangely.

"I don't mean to cause offence but why do you care, Sir?" she asked. "We do not even like each other." This shocked him. He had thought Elizabeth was flirting with him but apparently he was wrong. But then again, so was she. He liked her quite a lot actually.

"Who better to tell your troubles to?" he asked, smiling brightly. She looked slightly dazed. "If they don't like you and you don't like them, what does it matter what you talk about?"

"Were you aware that you have dimples," Lizzie said matter-of-factly. "Had you shown them more frequently, perhaps I would have been more inclined to tell you about my morning, but as it is…" She let the sentence trail off, but the meaning was clear. She was refusing to talk to him. He couldn't let that happen. If he was never going to see her again, he had to make this moment last as long as possible.

"I'm afraid I must insist, Miss Bennett," Mr. Darcy said formally but if one looked closely, you could see an impish twinkle in his piercing blue eyes. He stepped in front of her as she started to walk away, forcing her to either run into him or stop.

"And I'm afraid that if you don't move out of the way, I'll have to resort to drastic measures," she threatened, frustrated with his high-handedness.

"You do not frighten me, Miss Elizabeth," he smirked. "Do your worst." She found it slightly amusing that he couldn't figure out what to call her but this was getting out of hand. He refused to move and she refused to stay in his company, so there was no other choice. She ran for the nearest tree and started to climb. Darcy watched on in shock. Was she actually climbing the tree? She was going to hurt herself and the very thought of his Elizabeth hurting herself was a dagger to the heart.

"I believe I win, Mr. Darcy," she called from about half-way up the tree. "Accept defeat and be on your way."

"Never," he called back. "I'm accustomed to winning and this experience shall be no different. The only thing you have accomplished by this show is trapping yourself in a tree. Did you know that I was a fervent tree climber as a boy? I believe the skill could be easily relearnt."

"You would not dare," she gasped. This was a side of Mr. Darcy she had never seen and she decided that he was much better than his disagreeable counterpart. He grinned evilly as he started to climb the tree. She laughed as she watched him struggle up the tree but eventually he made it up on the branch Lizzie was sitting on. It was luckily sturdy enough to withstand the weight of both of them.

"What was that about winning, Miss Elizabeth?" he smirked. They were close enough that he could smell her lavender and rose perfume. He struggled to hold himself back. All he wanted to do was lean in and kiss her.

"I surrender," she laughed. "You have proven yourself to be a worthy opponent. For this, I will tell you about my horrendous morning. My cousin proposed. He claimed to love me and listed off all the reasons why he was marrying me and why he loved me. When I tried to protest, he overrode me and stated that he would never comment about my lack of fortune." Her voice turned bitter and scathing at this. Darcy felt fully ashamed because he had also thought of her lack of dowry.

"From your obvious disgust, I take it that you refused him," he said, unconsciously moving a little closer to her.

"Indeed I did," she said rather proudly, also oblivious that he was moving closer. "My mother was, to say the least, displeased. She insisted that I marry him but I would not—will not!—so she went to my father. Luckily, he did not allow my mother to sway me from my choice."

Darcy nodded. "I see but what does that have to do with you being out here all alone."

"Well, after Mr. Collins was made aware that he would never have me," she said, "he left for Lucas Lodge in a rage. Mama had a fit of nerves and told me that she never wanted to see me again." Her thickened slightly. "I've lived with statements like this from her all my life. About how I wasn't beautiful enough to catch a husband so I must be flirtatious and wanton. How my reading would only make men run away from me because they don't want an intelligent wife. It's not easy to have a mother who doesn't love you as much as the rest of her children." Tears began to leak from her eyes, much to her horror.

"I think that she loves you very much," Darcy protested, not noticing her tears yet. Lizzie chuckled wetly.

"You sound like Jane," she said. "That's what she's always telling me too. I'm sorry you probably didn't want to hear all of this, although you did ask for it." She quickly wiped her eyes, only to be stopped as Mr. Darcy used his thumbs to do it himself.

"I did ask for it," he mumbled, "and I'm very glad you shared your troubles with me…Elizabeth. My own mother died when I was twelve years old, but I do know what it's like to be the least favorite of a parent. I'm the spitting image of my mother, you see, and after her death, my father couldn't stand to look at me. My boyhood friend, George Wickham, became more of a son to him that I ever was. On his death bed, my father told me that he loved me and that he was sorry for mistreating me. He also told me to give the living at Kympton to Wickham should he ever want it."

"Unfortunately that is not the story I was told," Lizzie admitted. "I was told that you refused Mr. Wickham the living and sent him off without a penny."

"Allow me to set the record straight," Darcy said. "*Mr. Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, who had for many years the management of all the Pemberley estates…" He went on to explain about Mr. Wickham's gambling and womanizing ways. When he came to the part about his sister, he choked up a little, causing Lizzie to put her hand on his arm. To her surprise, he grasped it and kissed it gently before entwining his finger with hers. He took a shuddering breath as the tale finished and stared at their joined hands.

"Mr. Darcy, I'm so sorry," Lizzie said, crying again. "I should not have believed Wickham so easily without hearing your side of the story first."

"Please don't cry," he begged, taking her face in his hands. "You couldn't have known and I wasn't very forth coming. Do not blame yourself."

"I misjudged you terribly," she wept quietly. "I will never again attempt to sketch a character."

"No," Darcy said. "You must simply put your trust in the right people. I daresay that I never gave you any cause to trust me…my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth." She looked up at him in shock. Darcy thought she had never looked as beautiful as she did now. Her steel gray eyes were softer and more sliver now even if they were red-rimmed from crying. Her hair was falling down and an errant curl escaped her bonnet.

"But you cannot think I'm beautiful," Lizzie exclaimed. "You think I'm tolerable."

He winced. "I regret that you heard that. I realized soon afterward just how utterly and blatantly untrue it was. You are one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance."

"How is it Mr. Darcy that only now that I'm trapped in a tree with you that you decide to be charming?" Lizzie teased.

"Would you like my complete honesty?" he asked.

"I would expect nothing less." He took a deep breath but began.

"I love you," he told her confidently. "I've only just now realized it but I believe I have loved you from the beginning. You had such an effect on me and I was determined never to see you again. In fact, all of us were leaving this morning for London. Speaking of which, there is something I should like to ask you. Does your sister love Charles because I have observed a greater attachment on his part than hers?"

"I assure you that Jane loves him very much," Lizzie said. "She is simply more reserved with her feelings. Sometimes she even hides her feelings from me and I am her closest confidante."

Darcy nodded. "Then I will correct my mistake. I was trying to protect my friend from a loveless marriage but I can see now that when they marry, that won't be the case. Would you like me continue with my confession?"

"I would like to know something," she said. "You have corrected my thoughts on Wickham, Jane, and yourself but what of me? I am just a country gentleman's daughter with absolutely no dowry to speak of and a very mischievous streak. Why would you want me as your wife?" He chuckled quietly at this.

"First, I hope that you always stay mischievous," he responded honestly. "It's one of the things I love most about you. Secondly, I love you more than anything, Lizzie. I will admit that when I was first attracted to you thoughts of your lack of dowry and your unruly family kept my feelings in check." Seeing her look, he quickly explained, "Dearest, you cannot deny that in this world, I must think of these things but now they matter not. I have realized that your family isn't much different from mine. In fact, I believe I enjoy your mother's company over my Aunt Catherine's."

"You're just saying that so I won't be angry with you," Lizzie accused, eyes narrowing.

"You haven't met aunt," Darcy said with another brilliant smile.

"Your teeth are quite attractive, Mr. Darcy," Lizzie said, a playful gleam in her eyes. "It's a shame you don't show them very often."

"Lizzie, if you will agree to be mine, I promise that you'll see them every day because I shall be the happiest of men," Darcy vowed. She eyed him critically and then slowly began to descend down the tree.

"No," she said simply. He stared after her but was soon scrambling down as well. When Lizzie got to the bottom, he was already there, grabbing her around the waist and putting her on the ground.

"What do you mean 'no?'" he demanded. "I just poured my heart out to you and you reject me?"

"Yes," she said calmly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I cannot forget about my dislike for you. I hated you quite vehemently and that sort of hate does not dissipate." Surprisingly, a slow smile spread across his face.

"Lizzie," he practically purred and took a step closer to her, "don't you know that hate is the gateway to love. You cannot truly hate someone without loving them. You've just as blind as me, dearest Lizzie."

"You are insane," she said, staring at him as he slowly advanced.

"Darling, I am simply a fool in love," he replied now standing right in front of her.

"I need to get back," she said, courage starting to fail.

"Not just yet," he murmured and placed a hand on her face.

"Mr. Darcy, could you settle for friendship?" she asked, trying to bargain her way out of this. If they were seen…

"No," he whispered. "No, I couldn't settle for friendship. Haven't we already established that I am used to winning and usually do so? Why can't you just accept that you love me too?"

"I don't love you!" she cried, trying to pull away. "I hate you!" He gently grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. Their faces were so close they could feel each other's warm breath.

"Lizzie, with you, I think it is all the same thing." Then he kissed her gently. At first she protested and tried to pull away but Darcy kept a firm hold on the back of her head. Eventually, she closed her eyes and kissed him back with a soft sigh. He rejoiced in success. Only when the need to breathe was too much, did they pull away. Even then, Darcy kept his forehead rested against hers.

"I hate you, Fitzwilliam Darcy," she whispered.

"My dearest Lizzie, I had so hoped you felt that way," he grinned. "I love you too, darling. Let's go speak to your father."

They spent the rest of their days climbing trees at Pemberley with their children. Every morning Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy would say "I love you" and every night before they fell asleep in each other's arms, they would whisper, "I hate you." To them, it was all the same thing.

The End