32. Chapter 32

A/N: For reaching over 2,000 reviews, I've decided to post this today instead of waiting until next week. My profound and humble thanks to all you loyal supporters, and especially for all your lovely reviews! You inspire me to give my best and encourage me when I stare at a blank computer screen. Your support and reviews really do help - so thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Chapter 31

When Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam finally returned to the Drawing room some time after leaving her Uncles study, she found her Aunt and Jane conversing on innocuous topics unassociated with her ordeal that day. One glance at Jane's face revealed that their Aunt had not shared the history between Mr Williamson and their mother with her, which surprised Elizabeth. She knew her Aunt was aware of everything, although she had not known the entirety of her husbands involvement in the affair until the night her Uncle had first told her about Mr Williamson.

Jane took one look at her sisters overwrought expression and rose gracefully from her place beside their Aunt. Giving Elizabeth a warm embrace she whispered her relief that she was well and unharmed. Instead of questioning her about her meeting with Mr Williamson and their Uncle as she had expected, Jane simply gave her an affectionate smile and returned to her place on the sofa to resume her sewing.

Dear Jane. Elizabeth looked fondly at her sister, grateful for her forbearance. She felt guilty that it had not even occurred to her to invite Jane to hear their Uncles confession. Perhaps she didn't wish to know? She knew that it would grieve her sisters tender sensibilities, but she would not keep it from her unless she wished not to be told.

Later that night, when everything was quiet and still, Elizabeth sought out her sister, eager for her opinion and guidance. They refrained from speaking until they were both settled comfortably for the night. Lying on her side, facing Jane, she could just make out the faint outline of her sister on her back, her hands resting on her stomach. "Jane," she began hesitantly. "Tell me what you are thinking."

Jane was silent for so long that Elizabeth became worried. Finally, she sighed deeply and responded, her voice unsteady. "I was so worried for you, Lizzy. When I heard that you were with Mr Williamson, alone, I was so frightened. I don't think I took a decent breath until I saw you were safe."

Elizabeth's eyes burned with unshed tears. "Oh, Jane!" She reached over grasping one of Jane's hands. "I'm sorry I caused you such distress. But Mr Williamson never meant me any harm."

"But I didn't know that! You cannot know what it was like Lizzy when it became known what had happened. It was all confusion and panic. Even Colonel Fitzwilliam was distraught and I didn't think anything could discompose him. I felt for certain that something horrible had happened to you and I..." Jane's voice trailed off as she began crying quietly.

Elizabeth sat up, quickly lighting a candle by her bedside. "Jane, come here." Elizabeth reached for her sister, pulling her into her embrace as she whispered, "I'm well, Jane. I was never in any danger." She felt her sister nod against her shoulder.

After a few moments, Jane sat up, wiping the tears from her face. She gave Elizabeth a tremulous smile. "Forgive me, Lizzy. I don't know what came over me. I'm being nonsensical."

"You are not." Elizabeth declared emphatically. "Your feelings are justified and I'm truly sorry that my thoughtless actions today led to your distress."

Jane shook her head. "No, Lizzy. I don't blame you, not in the least."

"You should." Elizabeth raised a brow, a teasing smile on her face. "Indeed, I think you should tell me everything I did today that was ill conceived and ill judged."

Jane only laughed but she sobered immediately. "Was it very difficult? Your meeting with Mr Williamson and with Uncle?"

Elizabeth nodded, reaching out to grasp her sisters hand, needing her sisters gentle touch to ease the ache in her heart. Her kind, unselfish, wonderful sister. How grateful she was to have her steady, calm influence in her life. She truly was the best person she had ever known. "Do you wish to know, Jane?"

She pondered Elizabeth's question, an indecisive expression on her lovely face. "Are you glad you know, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth responded without hesitation. "Yes."

Jane nodded her head. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, and with determination said, "Then I wish to know as well."

Elizabeth saw her sisters resolve and was relieved. She needed her sisters perspective and guidance now more than ever. She reached under her pillow for her handkerchief, handing it to her sister. "Then you will need this."

Jane swallowed, nodding her head. "If it is too painful for you to tell me, Lizzy, I can ask our Aunt or Uncle. I'll understand."

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, Jane. That won't be necessary."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and for the second time that day, related her meeting with Mr Williamson, glossing over the part when he had grabbed her. Jane's reaction to Mr Williamson's tale was predictable; her sisters distress evident almost immediately.

After Elizabeth related her meeting with Mr Williamson, she waited patiently for Jane to speak. Her sister twisted her sodden handkerchief, her lovely face streaked with tears.

"Poor Mr Williamson! To think he mourned Mama for twenty-five years, thinking that she was dead all this time!" She shook her head, her beautiful blue eyes filled with sorrow. "And to learn that he is dying? That he returned to England so he could be buried under the same soil as Mama? Oh, Lizzy! I don't think I've ever heard a more tragic tale."

"A tale that was caused because of a lie, Jane. Don't forget that," Elizabeth said darkly.

Jane looked down, picking at a stray thread on her handkerchief. "So it's true then? Uncle really..." Jane met her sisters gaze, her expression pleading to be told that is was all some misunderstanding. Elizabeth understood her sisters disbelief. Hadn't she wanted to believe it was all a mistake?

"Jane," Elizabeth began, grasping her sisters hand. "What I have to relate next will be difficult to hear, and I will understand if you don't wish to hear it." Elizabeth waited with bated breath for her sisters response. She desperately needed Jane's perspective on her Uncle and Father's actions.

"Yes, I wish to know, Lizzy. You should not have to carry this burden alone."

Elizabeth searched her sisters face but saw nothing but determination and resolve in her gaze. She sighed. "Very well." With a soft smile, she handed her sister another handkerchief before relating all she had learned from their Uncle. When she came to the part of revealing their Father's role in the separation, her voice faltered. Speaking of it was more difficult than Elizabeth anticipated. Her eyes burned and her throat tightened with unshed tears. Jane reached out and grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly, offering wordless comfort.

Jane was silent after Elizabeth finished. She could not meet her sister's gaze, but looked unseeing in front of her. She prayed that Jane would say something, anything to remove the ache from her heart.

Jane's gentle voice pulled Elizabeth's gaze back to her sister. "Lizzy, I know learning Papa's role in all this must have wounded you deeply. But his motive for doing so was out of love, albeit a selfish love. I don't believe it was done maliciously."

Elizabeth met her sisters sympathetic gaze. Yes, she had thought the exact same thing and had started rationalizing his behavior based on that conclusion. Then, Elizabeth put herself in her mother's place. How would she feel if someone who claimed to love her tried to separate her from Fitzwilliam? Merely contemplating such a horrible event caused her heart to wrench in the acutest agony. She closed her eyes, not wanting Jane to witness her pain. Her heart cried out in agony and for the first time, she understood how her mother could have become so bitter, bound to a man she didn't love. Her heart started thudding painfully in her chest and she forced herself to take deep breaths. She gave herself a mental shake, her mind rebelling at such an abhorrent thought. It was not the same! Fitzwilliam was not a penniless nobody. For the first time, she appreciated her fiancés standing in society; his wealth and consequence would ensure that she would not suffer her mother's fate.

"Lizzy?" Jane's troubled voice brought Elizabeth back from her agonizing thoughts.

Elizabeth took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. Shaking her head to rid her mind of the last vestiges of the worst living nightmare she could contemplate, and said in a tremulous voice, "I am well, Jane."

"What were you thinking just now that distressed you so, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth huffed a laugh to keep from breaking down completely. "It was nothing, Jane." Seeing her sister open her mouth in protest, she raised her hand. "Please Jane," she said quietly. "Don't ask." She couldn't give voice to what she had thought. It would remain locked away in the deepest recesses of her mind, never to be thought of again.

"What are your thoughts on this whole sordid tale, Jane? I desperately need your perspective, for I can't see past the errors of Uncle and Papa's actions."

"Well, my first reaction upon hearing what Uncle and Papa did was incredulity. How could two men who I have always seen as honorable do such a thing? It defies disbelief! But, if you take away the lies and the deception, you are left with a brother who was concerned for his sister and a man who was in love." Seeing her sisters angry expression, she pressed her sisters hand. In a firm voice, she said, "It doesn't excuse what they did, but I believe their motives were pure."

"But what about Mama's choice, Jane? Despite her prior intentions to marry Papa, she loved Mr Williamson! Doesn't that count for something? Would she have agreed to marry a man she did not love?"

Jane was thoughtful as she contemplated her sisters question. "But did they truly love one another, Lizzy? Or was it simply an infatuation as Uncle and Papa believed?"

Elizabeth stared at her sister, her mouth agape. "Jane," she said carefully. "That is the one thing that I am sure of. If you had seen Mr Williamson's face when he realized that not only Mama was alive, but had married...you would not doubt his love for her."

"Yes, but Lizzy," Jane said, her expression serious. "That doesn't follow that their love would have endured the trials of life. It is easy to idealize a love that you have lost. You remember only the fond memories and everything you cherished about that person, while you forget the arguments, the vexations, their faults, and negative tendencies."

Jane held her sisters gaze, forcing her to look past the deception perpetuated by their Uncle and Father to the truth that was so clearly evident. "Does Uncle love our Mother, Lizzy?"

"Yes, I believe he does."

"And does an affectionate brother want what is best for the sister he loves?"

Elizabeth nodded and sighed. "Of course. I think our Uncle believed he was doing what was best for his sister, but was it?"

Jane looked at Elizabeth, a nervous expression on her face. "Lizzy, I believe not only was it the best decision, but it was the only decision our Uncle could make."

Elizabeth reared back, her eyes wide with astonishment. "Jane! You don't really believe that, do you?"

"I do, Lizzy. And I will tell you why." Jane took a deep breath. "I don't doubt that Mama loved Mr Williamson. But, from what I know of our mother, she would not have been happy living in relative poverty while Mr Williamson pursued a living to support them. Even if they had her dowry of £10,000. And if they had a family...their love would have turned to disillusionment and eventually led to what we see in our parents marriage: apathy and resentment. Only, I believe it would have occurred even sooner."

Elizabeth stared at her sister. She couldn't deny the logic of what her sister said, but happiness could not be measured by money and material possessions! She told her sister as much and watched as her sister shook her head, an amused expression on her face.

"Lizzy, you would not measure your happiness by material possessions, but you are not our mother. She does measure happiness by such things. Don't you see? The fault lies not with Mama's circumstances, but in what she feels she deserves! Uncle was right, in that Mama was not ready to face the realities of life with Mr Williamson. Uncle knew our mother, Lizzy. He knew she needed to be secure financially or she would not be content."

"But even with financial security she is not content Jane! So why can't her unhappiness be the result of not being able to marry the man she loved?"

"Because unfortunately, Mama is one of those individuals who will never be content with what she has," Jane answered softly. "She could live in a castle with the man she loved and she would still be unhappy and discontent. The fault lies with her, Lizzy. She just blames her unhappiness on her circumstances, her husband, her... "

"Daughter," Elizabeth finished her sisters statement, averting her eyes from Jane's compassionate gaze. She pondered her sisters insightful observation of their mother, knowing in her heart that it was true. Nothing pleased her mother. Even with Jane and Lydia, her acknowledged favorites, she found some reason to lament that Jane was so beautiful and Lydia so spirited.

This was what she needed from Jane, a clear perspective from someone who was not emotionally compromised. She had been too emotionally invested to see things clearly. She was so desperate to understand her mother; her bitterness, her unhappiness and general discontentment with life that she had unknowingly allowed all the negative emotions she felt towards her mother color her perspective.

Instead of feeling sympathetic and saddened by Mr Williamson and her Mother's plight like Jane did, she had felt her Mother's injustice of what was done to her, her anger and betrayal. But Elizabeth was not the one who had been betrayed. She had a right to feel sorrow for what happened, but not indignation. Who was she to judge her Uncle and Father? They did the best they could with the information they had. And could she really blame her Uncle for agreeing to a marriage contract with her Father? What brother would not choose a landed gentleman over a penniless clerk for his sister? The manner in which they separated the young lovers was deplorable, but she had to concede that their motives were based on good intentions.

"She was not always thus, was she Jane?" Elizabeth asked, feeling her heart soften towards her mother slightly.

"I'm not sure, Lizzy." Jane shrugged, her expression sorrowful. "Perhaps the source of her unhappiness lies with not being in control of her own fate, of bowing to the wishes of others instead of being allowed to make her own decisions."

Elizabeth looked at her sister gravely. "Jane, you know that I have wished to know why Mama is the way she is so I can move past the hurt she has caused," Elizabeth looked down, her voice quiet. "So I can try to forgive her. But I still need to know why she treats me so! I am no closer to understanding that than I was before!"

Jane looked at her sister for a long time. "Perhaps...perhaps she envies you, Lizzy. You still have your youth and beauty-your entire life stretching out before you. Her life is fixed, with a husband and children; her options are nonexistent. You still have a choice, Lizzy. She does not. Perhaps, in her own way she is trying to protect you from being hurt like she was."

"That makes no sense, Jane! To make me feel that I am worthless so I won't become hurt? Where is the logic in that? Besides, all her daughters still have their lives ahead of them. That does not set me apart."

"Well, I've always thought that what Mama thinks and does makes no sense, especially where you are concerned."

"Perhaps, I remind her of what she's lost?" Elizabeth mused.

Jane lowered her brows, her expression puzzled. "How so? Although you do look extraordinarily like our Mother, your temperaments are entirely different."

Elizabeth looked at her sister, a small smile gracing her weary face. "Perhaps now they are, but it was not always so, Jane. When I was young, Papa would tell me how much I reminded him of Mama. That I was just as quick to laugh, as lively and spirited as she was." She shook her head, a sad smile on her face, "Perhaps, Mama misses those characteristics in herself."

Jane huffed. "Well, it's her own fault that she is no longer that same person. I find that I have no sympathy for her. Nothing could justify her behavior towards you, Lizzy. Nothing."

Elizabeth agreed with her sister. Although, nothing excused a mother's behavior to treat her own daughter with such contempt, she still needed to understand why. Until she did, she feared she would never move past the hurt she had caused, never fully heal. And that was unacceptable. She didn't want the emotional pain caused by her Mother to interfere in her life with Fitzwilliam. She wanted to give him a heart that was whole and unmarred by emotional pain. He deserved nothing less.

Deciding to change the subject, she asked Jane her thoughts about the unexpected knowledge that they did, indeed, have a dowry.

"Truthfully, Lizzy? I'm grateful that it is not known that we have a dowry. You know my worst fear is to be pursued simply for my beauty. Imagine if it was known that I had a fortune as well?" Jane shook her head, her expression distressed. "No, I'm very grateful to my Uncle for keeping it a secret."

Elizabeth nodded. She didn't care about the money, it was immaterial and she was grateful that Fitzwilliam didn't care either. That was one of the things they had discussed after the meeting with her Uncle.

"Do you think Uncle has informed Mama?" Jane asked.

"No." Elizabeth knew with absolute certainty that her Mother didn't know. If she did, she would not have been so concerned with their fates when Father died. And she could not have kept something like that a secret from her sister and neighbors. She was always lamenting to anyone who would listen her daughters lack of a dowry.

"I suppose you are right." Jane yawned, laying back on the bed. "Did you talk about anything else with Uncle? You were with him for nearly three hours."

Elizabeth blushed, suddenly finding the pattern on the counterpane very interesting. She cleared her throat. "Well, I was not with Uncle that entire time, Jane."

Jane looked at Elizabeth, her brow lowered in puzzlement. "What do you mean? Where were..." She sat up quickly, her eyes wide, her mouth forming a perfect O. "Lizzy!" she gasped. "You mean to tell me that you were alone with Mr Darcy for three hours?"

"Of course not!" She exclaimed. In an undertone, she added, "It was only a little more than two hours that we were...ah...alone." Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet Jane's wide-eyed gaze.

Jane shook her head, her face dazed. "I...have nothing to say to that, Lizzy."

"It's not what you think, Jane. I was understandably distressed after my conversation with Uncle and he was simply offering comfort. That is all." Elizabeth didn't want her sister to think that anything untoward had occurred. Fitzwilliam had simply held her for a long time; he had been a perfect gentleman. They had only shared a kiss. Or three. Elizabeth felt her face grow hot.

The blush on her face must have given her away for Jane gave her disapproving look. "Lizzy!"

Elizabeth brought her legs to her chest, hugging her knees. "Jane, it was only a kiss. And you cannot tell me that if you found yourself alone with your betrothed you would not take advantage of the opportunity to kiss him as well. Especially, if it was a certain handsome Colonel?" She grinned as her sister blushed a becoming crimson. Deciding to take pity on her sister, she refrained from teasing her any further and instead said goodnight. She leaned over to blow out the candle before settling down to sleep, her mind busy sifting through all she had learned that day. Jane's perspective and insights had given her much to think on.

FEFEFEFEFEFEFEFEFE

Due to the near incessant rain the last three days, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam had been confined indoors. For two young people in love, this was not a particular hardship, except the distinct lack of privacy. And time alone. Elizabeth had not realized that up until now, she and Fitzwilliam had spent quite a bit of time together, without a chaperone. And ever since Elizabeth's confession the Saturday before of being with Fitzwilliam alone for two hours, Jane had begun to take her duty as chaperone very seriously, never leaving them alone together. She would place herself far enough away to not overhear their conversations, but close enough that she could see them. She was convinced that her presence was all that stood between her sister, her betrothed and complete ruination.

The last few days had been trying for more than one reason, the greatest being her Uncle's absence. Since Saturday, he had sequestered himself in his study, not even emerging for meals. When questioned by her two concerned nieces, her Aunt had responded that he needed time to come to terms with his actions and to not worry. Nevertheless, Elizabeth did worry. She wanted to reassure him that she was angry no longer.

The last three days, she had time to think and talk with her sister and Fitzwilliam, allowing her to see things more clearly. Her anger had been replaced with sorrow and compassion. Although, she could not excuse her Uncle the lies told to Mr Williamson or deceiving her mother into thinking he had abandoned her, she now agreed with Jane; that their motives were born of good intentions. Surprisingly, Jane had been more valuable in helping Elizabeth achieve this clarity than Fitzwilliam. She thought his unbiased opinion would be more useful. He was not unforgiving, but he had difficulty rationalizing her Uncle and Father's behavior because their actions had caused her pain.

Although, her Uncle's company had been missed, his presence had been replaced by an unexpected source. Mr Bingley. He had called on Saturday, leaving his card as the occupants had not been receiving callers due to Elizabeth's tumultuous day. He had called again on Monday, and after congratulating Elizabeth on her engagement to his good friend, had turned his attentions to Jane, much to that young ladies surprise and Elizabeth's chagrin. In true Jane-like fashion, she had accepted his attentions with equanimity; her composure calm, her expression serene. Elizabeth had watched, concerned that Jane was unknowingly giving Mr Bingley encouragement. He seemed however, quite unaware of the turmoil he was causing one Bennet sister, his focus was so fixed on the other.

It was readily apparent that he was interested in her sister. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that the Colonel was not also present. If he had been, it would have been clear to Mr Bingley where Jane's true affection lay. She was relieved that he was not present as she didn't wish for Jane to be uncomfortable with two men vying for her affections. Elizabeth knew, firsthand what that was like and she didn't wish her sister to experience it. Fitzwilliam had been no help at all when she had tried to ask what Mr Bingley was about. His countenance had been unusually reserved, his expression guarded.

Another unexpected, but not unwelcome consequence of staying indoors was that Fitzwilliam had taken it upon himself to demonstrate his affection in slightly improper ways as often as possible, despite her sisters constant presence and ever watchful gaze. They had made it into something of a game. If he could elicit some sort of response from her, then he won a point. If she were able to remain composed, then she won a point. She had agreed, confident that he would not be so bold in his physical gestures of affection, especially with her sister present. She realized very quickly however, that she had severely underestimated the craftiness and creativity of the man she would soon call husband.

Yesterday morning, as she played the pianoforte, he had sat beside her to turn the pages as usual, using their close proximity to place his hand lightly on her leg, just above her knee. It had taken all of Elizabeth's self control to continue playing and not react to his light touch. When he made no further move, she had relaxed slightly, confident that she could maintain her equanimity and finish the piece without drawing Jane's attention. Until he suddenly moved his hand up the outside of her leg causing her to squeak in surprise while playing a discordant note, effectively drawing Jane's notice. He had been unbearably smug after that, whispering in her ear that he was winning.

Currently, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were sitting a respectable distance apart on the sofa, each making a valiant attempt to read, although neither of them were having much success in their individual literary pursuits. Elizabeth was unable to concentrate on Shakespeare when Fitzwilliam kept playing with the material of her gown near her knee, his long fingers subtly caressing her leg. Each time Jane looked up from her sewing to see them sitting innocently side by side, he would remove his hand to turn a page then resume his attentions to her... ah, gown after her sister resumed her sewing. This had gone on for so long that Fitzwilliam had to start over from the beginning of his book, whereas Elizabeth had not managed to turn a single page.

With a sigh, Elizabeth snapped her book shut, setting it beside her. Fitzwilliam gazed at her from the corner of eye, his brows raised in amusement.

"Is your book not to your liking, Elizabeth?" He asked innocently, his lips twitching in a vain attempt to not smile.

Elizabeth smiled mischievously and arching a brow, responded in an understated tone, "On the contrary, Fitzwilliam." She turned her head to look at him, giving him a heated look, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I enjoyed it immensely."

Fitzwilliam froze. He stared at her, his gaze intense. In a low voice, he asked, "Changing the rules, Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth smiled, shrugging her shoulders. "Perhaps."

"Impudent minx."

"Incorrigible cad."

Fitzwilliam merely smiled, reaching over to grasp her hand, pulling her to her feet. "Take a turn about the room with me?"

Elizabeth barely refrained from rolling her eyes. She had lost count the number of times they had taken a turn about the room the past three days. Each time had not gone so well for her. His 'attentions' had managed to elicit a response nearly every time, and all within view of her sister. He had then effectively and successfully explained to her sister that Elizabeth's gasps were the result of him accidently stepping on her foot. The man had no shame, apparently.

Fitzwilliam brought her hand to his lips for a kiss, giving her a look of challenge as he placed it around the crook of his elbow. They began a leisurely stroll around the room and he began to talk of Georgiana and the progress she was making in her studies. Elizabeth nodded, her mind thinking furiously what she could possibly do to discompose her imperturbable fiancé.

Just as she thought of an excellent idea, he suddenly dropped her arm, reaching behind her to lay his hand on her back, gently guiding her as they walked around the room. She braced herself, knowing what was coming next. She was wrong. Instead of his hand moving down towards the small of her back as she had expected, he moved his hand upwards. She froze as his fingers reached the bare skin above her dress, his fingers lightly caressing her neck and upper back. She gasped out loud, her back rigid.

Without missing a step, Fitzwilliam said, "Yes, I agree. I also find it amazing that my sister wishes to learn German in addition to French."

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. This would not do! Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath as she placed her hand on his back, smiling in triumph when he sucked in a breath, his hand freezing on the back of her neck. Smiling, she moved her hand around towards the front, and after some careful maneuvering managed to slip her hand under his jacket in the front before sliding her hand around his back, her hand underneath his jacket but above his waistcoat.

Fitzwilliam halted their progress, his breathing unsteady. Elizabeth smiled, sliding her hand up his back with some difficulty, despite the smallness of her hands. She looked up at Fitzwilliam, smiling innocently, unaware of what she had unleashed. Seeing his darkened eyes, his intense expression, her smile fell and she felt her face grow hot. She closed her eyes, absolutely mortified. What must he think of her? She had gone too far. She looked away, quickly sliding her hand down his back to remove her offensive appendage.

Before she could remove her hand, however, he whispered one word, his voice rough with emotion. "Don't."

Her hand froze, her heart thundering loudly in her ears. She glanced up at him again, her expression uncertain. What did he mean? 'Don't' move your hand? Or 'don't' do that? Her gaze locked with his, the expression in his eyes causing her stomach to tighten, the sensation new but not unpleasant. Every part of her felt alive as she gazed into his eyes. Never had she seen his eyes so dark, so intense. Wordlessly, they stared at one another, before he lowered his gaze to her lips.

Elizabeth subtly glanced at her sister, convinced that she was watching them with a horrified expression on her face. Instead, she found her sister concentrating on her sewing, her lovely profile calm and unaffected. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

She felt Fitzwilliam slowly guide her to the writing desk in the far corner of the room, the farthest point from her sister. She was aware of his rigid stance, his unsteady breathing. She tried to subtly remove her hand, but stopped when Fitzwilliam shot her a heated look.

In a voice just loud enough that it would carry to her sister, Fitzwilliam said, "I need to write a business letter, Miss Elizabeth. It won't take long." He gave her a pointed look, before directing his gaze to her sister.

"O-of c-course, Mr D-Darcy." Elizabeth knew he was planning something, judging by the unspoken promise in his eyes and her heart began beating erratically in her chest, part in fear and part in anticipation, her breathing uneven.

He slowly backed her up against the wall, between the curtains and the writing desk, his dark gaze boring into hers. Her back hit the wall with a soft thud. She was acutely aware that her hand was still pressed against his lower back underneath his coat. He carefully placed his hands on either side of her body, leaning forward until his face was inches from hers. Unconsciously, she clutched the fabric of his waistcoat in her fist, drawing him closer.

Fitzwilliam's whispered, "You must be very quiet, my love," was her only warning before he captured her lips in a searing kiss that stole her breath and left her weak in the knees. Feeling her legs give way, she brought her other hand up to his back, clinging to him with all her strength as he unleashed what she had seen in his eyes. He kept his hands firmly on the wall beside her, his fingers digging into the wallpaper. Much too soon, he tore his lips from hers, his ragged breathing matching hers. Slowly he stood, his gaze never leaving hers as he brought his hands up to lightly cup her face. He lowered his head, gently caressing her lips with his, soothing the bruised and swollen flesh. He leaned his forehead against hers, his hands gently massaging her shoulders.

"I believe this means that I won," Elizabeth whispered breathlessly, a contented smile on her face, sure in the knowledge that she was loved and adored by the man she loved with her whole heart.

Fitzwilliam leaned back to look at her, a slow, satisfied smile forming on his handsome face. He laughed softly, his eyes alight with happiness and peace. "Yes, I believe it does."

Elizabeth sighed in pure contentment. Looking down, she reached out, lightly fingering the buttons on his jacket. "Fitzwilliam, I believe it would be prudent if I wrote my father again, to ask him to grant you an audience sooner rather than later."

Fitzwilliam stared at her for a moment in silence, his eyes searching hers to determine her sincerity. Seeing the truth of her words, he straightened, his expression eager. "Truly?"

Not waiting for verbal confirmation, he pulled out the chair of the writing desk, gently pushing her into it. Pulling another chair to place beside hers, he sat down, looking at her expectantly, his expression impatient.

"Eager are we?"

Fitzwilliam gave her a fervent look. "Do you require another demonstration of my...eagerness to not have to wait to secure your hand, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth blushed and shook her head. With a trembling hand, she reached for a sheet of paper and pen, briefly checking the nub for sharpness before silently composing the letter in her head. Fitzwilliam began bouncing his leg, effectively distracting her. She shot him a pointed look, before directing her gaze to his rather well shaped thigh. She blushed red, turning her face back to the paper before her. Taking a deep breath, she began to write her father, asking him to grant Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy an audience within the week. She deliberated whether or not to inform her father of Fitzwilliam's arrival, or to await his response. She decided on the later. After the letter was finished, she quickly re-read it, before handing it to Fitzwilliam.

She watched Fitzwilliam peruse the letter, his brows lowered in thought. "Is your father a timely correspondent, Elizabeth? Or is he like my friend, Bingley and considers a response to a letter within a fortnight to be sufficient?"

Elizabeth sighed. "The latter, usually. However, with something this important he will exert himself to respond in a more timely manner, I am sure."

Fitzwilliam raised his brows, his expression dubious. "Elizabeth, perhaps you should simply inform him that I will arrive on Thursday before noon."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Thursday? But that's the day after tomorrow, Fitzwilliam! My father won't even receive the letter until Thursday!"

"Not if it's sent by express."

Elizabeth suppressed a laugh at the keenness of her betrothed. "Fitzwilliam," she explained. "An express sent from London would cause my family no small amount of anxiety. For us, an express represents calamity, certain doom..."

Fitzwilliam laughed, running his hand through his hair. "Very well," he reluctantly conceded. "Tell him to expect me on Friday."

Elizabeth shook her head in amusement and began to re-write the letter to her Father, pushing down the sense of foreboding she felt at such an impulsive decision.

A/N: So, a lot of you believed that all Mrs B secrets were going to be revealed last chapter, and for that I apologize profusely. I added an addendum to the last chapter, explaining that the reason for Mrs Bs disdain of Elizabeth will be revealed after Elizabeth returns to Longbourn. And it won't be the minute she arrives home, either. So just a fair warning. So when will they be returning to Longbourn, you ask? I don't have an exact answer but I will say that it will be between 5-7 more chapters.

So, I figured a little lighthearted banter and lovey-doveyness would not go amiss after the last two highly intense/emotionally charged chapters. You're welcome :-) What do you think of Elizabeth's decision to just have D go to Longbourn instead of waiting for her and Jane to accompany him?

Please review to feed my muse (you have no idea how much it helps!)

Much love,

MAH