This is a simple vignette that I wrote after having watched the movie. It is from Mr. Darcy's point of view, as I believe there are too few stories out there that enlighten the reader as to what Mr. Darcy is thinking behind that handsome face of his. I should very much like some feedback on this story, as I have never written anything to be posted here before. Also, as it seems in vogue to state the obvious, I do not own any of the work of the splendid Ms. Austen.

As I gazed at the ground below me, all I could see were the ripples appearing in each of the puddles in the lane as I stepped through them. Adjusting my gaze farther forward, I could see the bend in the path ahead of me, where it seemed to be swallowed up in a kaleidoscope of different hues of green: emerald, jade, hunter.

As I kept walking, my surroundings melted entirely away until I was completely unaware that I was walking. I didn't sense any movement; there was no conscious action on my part to make a stride. All of my senses were clouded, muddied, by her. This was a common occurrence for me. It almost always happened when I was by myself, as today on my solitary ramble.

Suddenly, when I opened my eyes, all I saw were flashes of hers when they looked at me, most often with that glitter in them that meant she was laughing that beautiful laugh, many times with an angry glow in them that always made me think of molten caramel, and not nearly enough with that softness, tenderness that made me want to make myself a better man.

I didn't know where I was going, but then, I was striding toward that ruin, the place where I had played as lad, whenever I'd visit my aunt. I remembered coming to this place a lot after my mother was gone. It's such a peaceful, quiet place, where my soul feels placid, and I can stare off into the surrounding forest for hours and let my dreams have their way with me.

I inhaled the smell of a recent spring rain and wildflowers just beginning to blossom. I touched the cold marble of one of the ancient and unyielding columns, and my thoughts were beginning to relax.

And then I saw her. She was barely ten feet in front of me, and obviously quite as unaware of her surroundings as I had been, as she hadn't heard my approach at all. My mind had been so completely focused on her for days, weeks, months even, that I didn't know for certain that she was really there.

I couldn't move. I couldn't speak. I couldn't wrap my mind around any single coherent thought. All I could do was look at her. And it was enough. Immediately after seeing her, my shoulders slackened, though I didn't know they were tensed. My hands, the one on the marble even, unclenched from fists I didn't know I'd made. I let my arms drop to my sides and simply stood there, gazing.

I just stared endlessly at her magnificence, all the more captivated by the fact that is wasn't just from the outside that she was beautiful.

"Darcy."

I froze. My immediate conjecture was wrong; she'd seen me, and I was in for another one of the tongue-lashings that her quick mind always seems ready to supply. I feared she'd be angry at me for interrupting her solitude. I made ready my excuse for the intrusion, and then,

"Darcy," she said again. This time, more quietly. Her voice had a tenor that I couldn't quite identify. I was on the verge of speaking.

"Oh, I wish Mr. Darcy were here."

My heart fluttered. Just the thought that she longed for my presence made this the single happiest moment of my life.

"What would you say to him?"

She whirled around. I half-expected her to begin screaming at me for over-hearing her. She began walking closer to me, and the urge to move away rose up in me because I wondered if she intended to strike me. But then, I saw her eyes. The golden-brown caramel engulfed me and I just stood there.

She stopped right in front of me and continued to hold my gaze. "I wouldn't say anything," she said. "There'd be no talking".

And then she kissed me.