Hello all! Two statements to start with: (1) This is my first piece of fiction in a number of years, and (2) this is my first piece of fiction outside of LoTR/Silmarillion fandoms, er, ever. My writing is not perfect, and so I would appreciate your comments or constructive reviews on the material. There are parts of the book that I am trying to emulate and therefore some of the text will be similar or directly quoted from the Mothertext, but other parts will not.

Thanks for your understanding!

This story involves events after a further delay in Elizabeth's reception of Jane's letters in Derbyshire. Because of this, the Gardiners and Elizabeth had another day in the presence of the company at Pemberley. The extra time allows for a slightly different course of events in Regency P&P.

"I was wrong to do it, Charles, I'm sorry."

Charles Francis Bingley was red from the cravat up. His face had taken the same shade normally reserved only for his tousled hair. The only exception to this was his pair of smoldering sapphire blue eyes, at this moment trained on his (former) best friend's pale face.

"You knew?" Bingley hissed, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and incensed. "You knew she was in London and you hid it from me? You KNEW?" As he spoke, Charles' voice raised to almost a yell. His hands were clutching a billiards cue tightly enough that Darcy was quite sure he would snap it.

Charles, now a cat stalking his prey, wound around the billiards table. Darcy backed up and was stopped by the wall. Charles had come quite close but had thankfully dropped the cue on his way. It had clattered on the floor caused Darcy to jump at the noise. The younger man's thoughts were not entirely rational as he glared at Darcy. "How did you know? Did she tell you? Were you… meeting with her?" Bingley grabbed Darcy by the jacket and shook him at each question.

Darcy knew his friend better than to be offended by such an ungentlemanly outbreak at this moment, Lord knows he probably would have said something similar, if not worse, had the situation been reversed. He kept his voice even as he glanced behind his friend at the footman who had entered at the noise and waved him away. "Charles, I would do nothing of the sort. I heard from your sister that Miss Bennet had called on them at Grosvenor…" As he realized his mistake, Darcy's face went even paler while Charles' face changed from red to purple, a vein popping in his forehead. Darcy had never seen him so angry, but he did not fault him for it, nor did he try to escape his friend's wrath. He deserved it, after all.

"Caroline that snake!" Charles spit, his anger now distributed over two of the people closest to him. In his mind, Darcy couldn't help but agree to such a sentiment about the youngest Bingley sibling, but now was not the time to say such things. "How dare she do such a thing? Who is she to try to separate us!? Who are you?"

"Caroline, whatever else she might be, is your sister, and there is some part of her that does care for you." Darcy also repeated how he was only trying to protect his friend from what had appeared to be an uneven match. Charles glared at him, and with one start at making to punch Darcy – who really would have taken the blow with no complaint – Charles backed off. He was not, even in his most angered state, that violent of a man as to hurt his friend for mistakenly doing something in his best interest.

"Why are you telling me this now?"

Darcy drew himself up. "I'm in love with Elizabeth," he found it surprising how easy it was to answer in this manner, though he had spoken nothing of it to Charles previously. He dearly hoped Charles would understand his reasoning, for after all, he hoped they would soon indeed be brothers. "I could hardly wish to address her without airing my disservice as a friend to you as well."

Bingley slunk down onto a small armchair against the far wall, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His voice was hollow but had an edge to it.

"Just go away, Darcy."

Darcy left his own billiard room without another word.