Notes:

• I am trying to keep everyone in this story as close to themselves as possible, though I don't know how much success I'm having. I don't tend to write them as characters I don't like, so it should work out. Bear with me.

• I also don't expect each chapter to be very long, hopefully between 2000-3000 words, though some longer some shorter.

Summary: Elizabeth is knocked unconscious during her walk with the Colonel at Rosings. This "what if" that starts before Darcy has the chance to propose. Incomplete, a slow WIP.

While reading Jane's most recent letter from Town as she walked, Elizabeth was quite surprised to find Colonel Fitzwilliam crossing her path. Waving at him from a distance, she quickly folded the letter and returned it to her reticule. When the normal greetings had been taken care of, the two continued on back in the general direction of the parsonage. The dialogue was easy between them, as a quick friendship had sprouted during their stay at Rosings and the parsonage. After a while, Elizabeth remarked that she had not seen him walk through that part of the grounds before, to which he replied that he made a full tour of the park each year at the end of his stay. As their conversation of books, authors and discussion of the antics of Lady Catherine progressed, both found little reason to discontinue it by a premature stop at the parsonage and so their feet took them away again.

Elizabeth learned of and teased him about his supposed woes as the second son of an earl and his subsequent comments about other such males' marriage to wealthy women. The comment having been intended as such, Elizabeth took it as a gentle hint that their friendship, amiable and easy as it was, would never progress further. She was not of a sort to be hung up in sadness about men and would therefore not be unhappy about him. They walked some distance into the park, losing track of the time and eventually being quite beset by an afternoon rainstorm. As they were now somewhat far from either the parsonage or Rosings, they ran a short distance to take shelter beneath a large tree and wait out the storm.

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, I do believe this is a rather unfortunate addition to your park tour!" Elizabeth yelled over the thunder, a grin on her face at the excitement, and her face flushed red from running.

The Colonel laughed and wrung the first layer of water off of his coat sleeves. "Rather unexpected, yes Miss Elizabeth, but spending the time with such a beautiful woman is hardly unfortunate." Elizabeth just looked at him, dripping wet and slack-jawed. She was not used to the men of her acquaintance being so forward, much less the same man who had only moments ago counseled her against allowing affection towards that particular second son of an earl. Seeing her reaction and remembering what he'd said, the Colonel paled. "Miss Elizabeth… I…." He had meant the best for her, he truly had. Suddenly at a loss for words, he turned around and walked to the opposite side of the trunk of the tree, leaving her momentarily alone.

The colonel raked his hands through his sopping wet hair. He had held Miss Elizabeth in very high regard since they met nearly a month previous. She was not the typical classical blonde beauty that normally attracted him but instead had a lively and intense spirit. He had been surprised and impressed by her wittiness and impertinence, not to mention how well and easily she managed to discomfort two of his most resolute and proud relations. Her character had intrigued him for a few months before that when Darcy started mentioning her in correspondence. Any woman who garnered Fitzwilliam Darcy's interest was certainly worth knowing, if only to tease him for it later. As for the extent of his cousin Will's interest, Richard was well aware of his exceedingly high opinions of Miss Elizabeth after a very candid conversation over most of a bottle of brandy. Consciousness of his cousin's affections as well as the truth of the unsuitability of a match between an essentially dowerless lady and himself did little to hamper his own regard and growing feelings for the lady, however. They both were tricksters, though neither aimed to harm in their jests, but he and Miss Elizabeth also carried a very serious and loyal aspect that once incited toward another was lasting. He wanted to think of her as a friend, but realized with a start that he thought of her compassion and vivacity for life as a good match for his own cheerful nature. She had become unattainable to him through no fault of her own (or my own, Fitzwilliam thought with cold humor) and therefore was all the more wanted. All his admiration of her character aside, he did not mean to have said that last comment to her. Though praised by his cousin for his discretion when it came to other matters, he had never been known for being so tight-lipped about his own thoughts.

With a sharp crack, lightning struck their shelter, showering both Miss Elizabeth and the Colonel with bits and pieces of the above tree. The lady shrieked, trying to cover her head from the onslaught but was knocked unconscious by a falling branch. Fitzwilliam ran back around the base of the tree upon hearing her cry out. If he was pale before, what blood was left in his face left it now seeing Miss Elizabeth unmoving on the ground. Kneeling to assist her, he tossed the offending branch away, finding it had ripped part of her bodice. Looking aside and blushing, he quickly removed his jacket and placed it over her torso to protect her modesty and finding that she still breathed, he checked her arms and legs for obvious breaks. Finding none, he mumbled an apology to the lady as he gingerly touched her head to check for the injuries that must be there. A large bump was already forming on the top of her scalp, but she did not appear to be bleeding. That was a relief.

He stood up again and turned on the spot and paced. He had no idea what to do. A well-respected Colonel in the His Majesty's army or not, he was clueless when it came to dealing with unconscious young ladies. Injured, unconscious young ladies that he had feelings for. Injured, unconscious young ladies that he had admitted his feelings for while they were on a solitary walk. A solitary walk where they had been set upon by rain and took shelter under a large tree. He realized with a start they had been running together, hand-in-hand, to the tree where they took shelter. They had been laughing moments ago about the ridiculousness of the situation and then he went and ruined it with his words. He could hardly take blame for the lightning, however.

The admission of his feelings he knew could be overlooked, so long as neither he nor Miss Bennet spoke of it again. Miss Bennet cannot do much by way of anything at the moment, he thought dolefully. He glanced at her, unfortunately seeing no change in her state. The rest of this, though, would be harder to ignore. His intentions were for the best, but intentions generally didn't matter in such situations. She was a respectable young woman, but coming back unconscious and sopping wet (and with a ripped bodice no less!) after some hours being gone while carried by a man was not generally something a girl's reputation could return from without… a marriage. He fell back against the tree and brought a fist to his mouth in dismay. Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam now knew two things: Firstly, he was likely going to have to marry Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Secondly, whatever else came out of this, he knew his cousin was going to murder him.

All right, Richard David Fitzwilliam, figure this out, he thought, glancing at Miss Elizabeth again. She looked paler than she had a moment before and was clearly not going to wake up anytime soon. He knew she needed to be somewhere warm and dry where she could have the benefit of a doctor.

Well, thought he, I can carry her back to the parsonage to the Collinses or I can take her to Rosings and… my Aunt. He grimaced at the prospect of both of those options as neither one sounded particularly appealing. Fitzwilliam considered finding one of the tenants, but quickly realized that any chance they had of avoiding a scandal would be null if this were known outside of Rosings proper. He sighed. At the parsonage, the odious Collins would likely want to perform the ceremony right in his front parlor to avoid upsetting his esteemed patroness. If Fitzwilliam took her to Rosings, however, his Aunt or Darcy would listen to him. Wouldn't they? Darcy would try to help Elizabeth in any case, he assumed, even if their Aunt didn't want to. Will's love for Elizabeth, and certainly his money, surely wouldn't let her be unhappy in a marriage, even if she didn't love the man.

Rosings it is.

He gently collected Elizabeth into his arms, careful to hold his coat around her torso and to have her head cradled protectively against his upper arm to keep it from bouncing. He held her limp body against his chest; she felt cold. He now felt guilty for letting her lie there so long, really only the span of a minute. He peeked out from under the tree, the driving rain seemed to have abated to a steady downpour and the lightning and thunder had moved off. He shrugged her weight higher onto his arms, the both of us are already soaked and she needs help, and walked out from under the branches of the tree towards Rosings and his Aunt Catherine.

As ever, please let me know what you think.