This is my newest fic, the first that is separate from Casual universe so I hope you enjoy.

This will probably be a two or three chapter story, so be on the look out for the rest in a bit.

Elizabeth Bennet woke early, as was usual for her. Apparently her body didn't care that it was on vacation, or that she was staying with people who rarely got up before nine in the morning. It was a week into her stay with her best friend Charlotte and Charlotte's new husband, Bill Collins. Bill was an executive assistant to the great and powerful Mrs. Catherine DeBourgh, and DeBourgh was a surprisingly late riser. Collins seemed to take all his cues from her, so he and his wife also tended to sleep in. It was a bit of a surprising habit coming from the woman who spent her days either sitting as CFO on the board of her own company, or organizing one of the many charity events for which the great lady was known. Lizzy found it surprising that she slept at all, let alone well into the morning.

Still, Lizzy couldn't help but enjoy the few hours she had to herself in the mornings. The country neighborhood they were staying in at the moment was beautiful, especially at the beginnings of fall; the weather was also cool enough to add a bit of vigor to her walks. The area surrounding the great house, which is what DeBourgh referred to the house she and her relatives were staying in, and the smaller cabin where The Collins' and Elizabeth slept, were vast enough that even after a week she had barely gone through the same lane twice.

Of course, the downside to her walks was that lately Darcy seemed to have a sixth sense of finding out exactly where she was. He would join her for a while, but was always silent and brooding. She had given up trying to pull him into a conversation after the first time they ran into each other out in the wooded lane; it was like pulling teeth.

Their happenstance meeting two years ago happened when his cousin Richard had ended up in the hospital while her sister Jane was working in the ER for the night, a night Jane had been covering for a friend's shift at the time and shouldn't have even been there. Charles Bingley had accompanied his friend to the hospital and instantly become smitten with Jane. A few days later asked her and Lizzy to join him, Richard, and Darcy at a club downtown.

Lizzy had been excited to be able to talk to the Fitzwilliam Darcy; his family owned the number one security company in the states. He also happened to be a topnotch Cryptographer, someone who improved or broke complex security codes in order to ensure the cyber security of a company or individual. Since Lizzy was a bit of a white hat hacker herself, someone who was hired by these same companies to try and break into their systems in order to test their strength, she couldn't help but foolishly believe they may have had something in common – or at the very least something to be able to talk about.

Well, that hope was shattered the day she met the arrogant, pretentious, egotistical man who clearly believed he was above everyone and everything. Any attempt at conversation was rebuffed and he had treated her like some fangirl screaming and crying over the chance to be near him.

Since then, they had been around each other fairly often. Charlie, who turned out to be Darcy's best friend and financial advisor, luckily hadn't suffered from their elevated statuses; he was about as down to earth as someone on Forbes' Most Eligible Bachelors could be. He was genuine, social, and treated Lizzy's sister like the angel she was. It hadn't been easy, but for more than two years they had made their relationship work. Of course, that was until about three months ago when, without even coming to see her, Charlie had broken things off with her sister. According to Jane, it had come out of nowhere, and the only excuse Charlie had given was that it wasn't fair to Jane that he must always be on the road, and that they could only see each other on his schedule.

Lizzy didn't want to think she was unduly prejudiced, but for some reason she blamed Darcy for the break up. Oh, she had a fair amount of anger for Charlie too; but she knew these men. Lizzy and Darcy were thrown together to make up a group outing anytime Charlie and Jane wanted to go out. Richard would usually be there for the beginning of the night as well, but inevitably he would wonder off with either booze or a girl.

To Lizzy, the nights were usually torture. She couldn't refuse to go, because Jane asked for so little. So she went as a favor to her beloved sister. Darcy… who knew why he chose to go? To piss her off, probably. They always ended up arguing, usually over the stupidest thing. Over anything, really. If Lizzy said it was a nice night, Darcy would predict rain. If Lizzy suggested Chinese, Darcy would insist on Italian.

And while it was true that they had their fair share of conversations where they managed to stay civil, it was usually early in the evening; by the time they were ready to leave, they were also ready to kill each other.

The point was, she had spent a lot of time in their presence. So when she had her suspicions about Darcy's involvement in their break up, and Jane's subsequent broken heart, it was based on more than just that she hated the guy. It was based on the fact that, well, Charlie seemed to look up to Darcy, to always heed his advice as if were handed down by God himself. She had seen plenty of instances of it, so it was for this reason, and the fact the she was pretty sure Darcy's disdain also somehow included sweet Jane, that Lizzy believed he had something to do with her sister's broken heart.

Lizzy had high hopes for this morning's walk, however. Yesterday, when Darcy had yet again bumped into her on the path she was aimlessly taking, she made a point to let him know that today she planned on skirting the fence that separated the land the cabin was on with the horse farm next door. Lizzy had grown up on a farm; as soon as the smell of the barn had hit her on one of her walks she wanted to get a closer view. Maybe see if she could strike up a conversation with some of the farm hands… offer to brush down some of the horses.

It would embarrass the crap out of Collins if he or, God help him, DeBourgh found out, which was just the incentive she needed.

It was a bit earlier than usual for one of her walks, but she knew from experience that farm life started at or before sunrise. So she changed into some jeans and a t-shirt, pulled on her worn work boots and decided to forgo breakfast in her eagerness to get out.

She had skirted the fence as planned and, as luck would have it, a rider was making a slow trot around the perimeter of the fence. He slowed when she raised a hand to wave and, like a true country gentlemen, tipped his hat.

"Good Morning." He pulled his horse to a stop as she approached the fence to chat.

"Morning." She smiled her most friendly smile. "Hate to break it to you, but you're herdin' air."

He grinned at her. "A little early for herdin'" he shook his head. "I'm checking the fence for break ins."

"Break ins?" she repeated, a little surprised. "From human or beast?"

"We grow hemp, among other things." He rolled his eyes, shifting on his steed. "There's always some dumbass kid who breaks in to steal what he thinks is weed."

She couldn't help but laugh. "You might benefit from spreading the word about the difference between hemp and weed."

"Sounds like a good idea." He nodded. "but there will always be dumbass kids."

"That's about right." She couldn't help but reply. "We have a farm back home. For some reason it's town tradition to sneak in and steal our scarecrow once a year to put it on top of the high school." She shrugged. "Can't imagine the lure."

He laughed; a good, hearty laugh and Lizzy couldn't help but smile. "Like I said, there will always be dumbass kids."

"True enough." She agreed.

"Where's back home?" he wondered.

"Nebraska." She answered.

"Cattle farm." He guessed.

"Mostly." She nodded. "When I was a kid my dad also decided to house horses for the people who wanted one, but not necessarily the responsibility of taking care of it."

He grinned, seemingly please with her statement. "I've met the type." He looked up and behind her. She didn't need to follow his glance to see he was glancing at the great house.

"I'm sure." She smiled.

"Do you miss the farm?" he wondered.

"Not at first," She admitted "but as time went on, yeah. I caught a whiff of the horses and hay yesterday and I had to come get another one. Is that totally weird?"

"Shoot. Not to me." He shook his head seriously. "If your morning's free, why don't you hop over that fence and walk with me through my chores." He looked charmingly awkward. "If, uh, that sounds like something you'd be interested in."

"You kiddin'?" she grinned, grabbing the wood post and pulling herself up. "I thought you'd never ask." He laughed again at her eagerness and dismounted as she reached the top of the fence to jump down. They walked back to the barn together as he led his horse; they chatted about farm life in general and got a feel for each other's experiences.

"My name's George, by the way. George Wickham." He introduced himself, shaking her hand. His grip was firm and his hand callused.

"Lizzy Bennet." She nodded back. "Nice to meet you."

"You staying at the Rosing's Place?" he asked cautiously.

"More like the cabin near the Rosing's Place." She replied. "With some friends of mine. They're not exactly early risers, though, so I have until at least ten."

"Well, let's see what we can get done in four hours." He patted his horse and gave her a smile.

George introduced her to the other farmhands. They were a bit stiff with her at first, but once they saw she was here voluntarily because she missed the life, they opened up and exchanged stories of farming life, its ups and downs, and the day to day nuisances of it. Lizzy had experience with all the work that needed to be done, and when they saw she was capable and competent, they eased up around her even more.

Ten o'clock came soon enough, however, and she reluctantly said her goodbyes. Davey, who Lizzy took to be the head farmhand, let her know she was more than welcome back whenever she got the itch to do some honest work. She thanked him sweetly and suggested she might take him up on the offer if she was able to get away from her hostess for a prolonged period of time.

"Come on Lizzy," George called her attention with two saddled horses. "I'll ride back with you."

She grinned and pulled herself up onto the offered mare. She was sweet, but Lizzy could tell she was also eager for a run.

"Race ya." She challenged George, then took off.

She beat him back to the fence, but when he caught up to her he laughed. "Nice ridin' girly." He teased. "I meant to take you back to the house, not back to the fence."

"Oh." She laughed. "Well, that's ok." She jumped down from the mare, gave her a gentle pat, and handed George the rains so he could lead her back to the barn. "Thanks for everything, I had fun."

"Me too. Don't forget, come on back when you have free time." He reminded her.

Then, suddenly, he looked passed her, his face turning pale. Lizzy turned to see Darcy standing a few feet from the fence, obviously having just come down the lane. He was looking at George like he might fly over the fence and tackle him.

"I'll, uh, see you around Lizzy." George stammered, then turned and kicked the horse into a trot without waiting for an answer.

"So, that was… weird. Do you two know each other?" Lizzy couldn't help but ask as she climbed back over the fence to Darcy's side.

"What the hell were you doing over there?" he all but demanded, turning his fury on her.

"What the hell business is it of yours?" she snapped back, swinging her legs over the fence and jumping down. It wasn't unusual for them to fight, but this was out of nowhere and she had been having a great morning. She would be damned if she let him ruin it. He marched over to her, and grabbed her arm roughly.

"Don't you ever go anywhere with him alone, do you hear me? Ever." His eyes were wide and his grip tight.

"Darcy," She said, her voice sounding more astonished than anything. "Let go."

His hand dropped away from her like he had been burned; he looked like he hadn't even realized he was touching her.

"George Wickham is a dangerous man." He told her in a much calmer voice. "Stay away from him."

"Why?" she wanted to know. "How is he so dangerous?"

"Jesus, Elizabeth." Whatever control he had gained was once more lost. He ran his hand roughly through his hair. As much as she had joked before about how they would like to strangle one another, he looked convincingly close to it now. "Can you, for once in your life, not argue with me? Just trust me, okay? He. Is. Dangerous."

"Trust you?" she couldn't help but laugh. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because," he actually bit his lip, his hands on his hips as he shifted from one foot to the other, and then, as if the floodgates had been opened, he threw his arms up and said, rather loudly, "I love you, okay?"

If he had just told her he was her twin brother from Mars, she would not have been more shocked. Her jaw actually dropped, and she wondered if she heard him correctly. "I know." He seemed to reply to her reaction. "It's crazy. It's insane. I have no idea what's gotten into me." He scowled; this was the face she was used to, this put her on solid grown once more.

"I mean, we could not be more different. I've been attending the finest private schools since kindergarten; been invited to the top social events since I hit puberty; I'm a CEO for the top security company, and you…" he seemed to struggle with what she was in comparison. "you're a farmer. A Hacker. " He seemed to find that amusing, apparently not noticing the look of death on her face. "When the press gets ahold of this…but I don't care about that. I've resigned myself. I love you, Elizabeth." He took her hand while she was still in shock. "So, believe me when I say I have your best interest at heart."

"You've resigned yourself?" she repeated. He looked a bit confused at her tone. "Well, good news Darcy, the press is never going to get a hold of this story." She plucked her hand back from his grasp and gave him a little shove backwards so he wasn't so close.

There were so many things she wanted to say, but the anger inside of her made it hard to articulate any one thing.

"Wait, that's it? You're… rejecting me?" he asked, clearly stunned.

"You bet your Ivy League ass I am." She burst back with. "How dare you come up to me and tell me how beneath you I am, but that you somehow found a way to like me anyway?"

"I, I didn't mean-" he started to reply, but she didn't give him a chance.

"Yes, you did." She pointed at him. "You meant every word of it. Well, guess what, Darcy? I'm proud to be a farmer. And so is Jane. Despite what you try to tell yourself, there's no shame in actually working for a living."

"I never-" he started again, but once more she ignored his attempts to defend himself.

"I've had to work for everything I have, and I would do it all again rather than have some trust fund hand me anything and everything I wanted. That's clearly made you into the egotistical self-centered asshole you are," she told him with a scowl. "If you weren't so hell bent on offending everyone around you, I'd actually feel sorry for you, because you obviously can't find pleasure in anything but looking down on others from your high horse and thinking you're so much better than they are."

He looked ready to argue, but she barely paused for breath. "Well, I have news for you, Darcy. No amount of money, private schooling, or social events can make you even the slightest bit appealing. I would rather spend hours cleaning the muck from a barn with George than spend one minute in your presence." That seemed to get through to him. Instead of the haughty look of offense, his face seemed to crumble a bit. She couldn't help but add, "I wouldn't love you if you were the last man on earth."

"I get it." He finally said, throwing a hand up to stop any more words. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he just repeated "I get it." and turned to walk away.

Lizzy watched him go. It wasn't until she had turned away from the house and walked for another hour that she felt ready for company. Thankfully, they had no plans to visit the DeBourgh house together today. Charlotte could tell right away that Lizzy was not herself, but Lizzy just said she and Darcy had had another argument and left it at that.

Lying in bed that night, she went over their conversation for what felt like the hundredth time since it happened. Now that her anger had cooled, she regretted the words she said. He was an asshole, but that didn't mean she had to stoop to his level. Anyway, he had said he loved her and although she didn't believe it was really love that he felt, he had clearly felt something strong enough to confess it to her. With Jane's recent heartbreak, she was sympathetic to those with unrequited love and she felt she could have handled her rejection a bit better.

Besides, let's face it, it was a compliment to arise the interest of someone like Darcy; she was not so blind that she didn't realize that. He was handsome, relatively famous, and rich; he could probably have just about any girl he wanted. Lizzy guessed he was interested in her because, deep down, he knew she would reject him and it was a novelty to him. He had said it himself: they were simply too different from each other. Also, she didn't worship the ground he walked on and that was probably refreshing for him. Once he realized the reasons he thought he loved her, he would get over it quickly enough.

The next morning, she slept later than she usually did. There wasn't much time before the house awoke, but she thought she'd at least get out and see if she could chat with George for a while. Maybe she could even get the story behind the reason Darcy seemed to hate him. The one thing she was sure she wouldn't have to worry about was running into Darcy himself. Collins had let them know at dinner that he and Richard were heading back to town today, rather unexpectedly.

So, when she came around the side of the house, she was understandably shocked to see him leaning against the building, clearly waiting for her. She stopped short; he saw her and stood straight, coming close enough to hand her a letter.

"I'm obviously terrible when it comes to talking. I was always better at expressing myself through writing, so I hope you'll give me a chance and read this." He murmured to her. He looked so much like a kicked puppy that she couldn't help but take the letter. She got nervous when he didn't immediately turn to walk away and wondered if she should prolong this awkward encounter by apologizing for being so harsh yesterday. She definitely didn't want him to get the wrong idea- that she didn't mean any of what she said rather than the fact that she just didn't mean to say it so forcefully.

As she was distracted by her thoughts, he took a step closer. He reached a hand out to cup her cheek, his thumb running softly over her skin. She was shocked at the feel of him, too shocked to pull away. "I'm sorry I screwed things up so badly, Elizabeth. You can't know how sorry."

She didn't know what to say, but before she could even try to come up with a reply, he leaned forward slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away. She couldn't exactly say why she didn't. She clearly saw his intentions, couldn't exactly blame him for taking her off guard; because let's face it, his slow descent was both a clear intent of his purpose and ample opportunity to push him away. All she knew was she saw him coming and waited the time it took for him to meet his lips with hers.

His kiss was… electric.

Lizzy had never felt so much from such a simple act before. Without quite knowing she was doing it, she stepped forward into him, resting a hand on his chest. They only met in those three places, his hand on her cheek, his lips on hers, and her hand on his chest. Still, Lizzy felt like she was enveloped in him. Had she never noticed how good he smelled? How strong he was; how gentle? His tongue swept her lips and she opened her mouth to him. She sighed with pleasure as their tongues moved together slowly and she added one more thing to her list; how good he tasted.

His kiss was slow and deliberate; there was no world outside the two of them and this perfect moment. No Jane, No Charles, no Wickham. No idiotic speeches about how he was a millionaire and she was a lowly farmer; no scathing remarks about the deficiencies of his character. Still, memories did flow through her brain. Fragments of times she had always conveniently ignored when she thought of Darcy. Times they had actually laughed together; times he had offered to drive her home when Jane and Charles went off alone together; times when they danced, him reluctant but willing for her sake because she loved to dance.

She remembered how sweet he could be when she'd had a bad day at work, their arguing more like teasing banter until she was cheered up. She remembered how he turned women down when they were alone together and would always turn back to her as if there had been no interruption to continue their discussion, even when it had been about the most mundane things.

Most importantly, she remembered when she had earned his respect. It was when he, seemingly reluctantly, asked her questions about her skills on the computer and she very smugly answered his inquiries. There had been a surprised kind of look in his eye, and since then he spoke to her like they were equals. He was as brilliant as everyone said he was, and she often found herself racing to catch up to his thought process, but the admiring look he gave her when she was able to keep up was well worth the effort.

Now here she was, feeling wrapped up in him, owned by his lips. How could there ever be another when they fit together so perfectly? She wanted to kiss him forever; she felt his heart pounding in his chest where her hand rested and wondered if it was her imagination that felt it beat erratically in time with hers.

"Will! Where the hell are you, man-" Richard had come around the corner and they broke apart as if someone had thrown a bucket of freezing water on them. "Ah, shit, I'm sorry." He looked horror-stricken and turned to leave, practically running away.

Of course, the world came rushing back after that. Lizzy stepped back even further and put her hand on her cheek, wondering if it were from embarrassment or the heat of the kiss that caused the redness in them. Darcy was looking at her longingly, hopefully; it was apparent he didn't care that Richard had just seen them.

"I, uh, should go." She said, taking another step back. Great. She hadn't wanted to apologize because she was afraid of giving him false hope. What the hell was that kiss going to do?

God, she thought, pressing her hand more firmly on her cheek; God, that kiss.

"We're leaving for town today." Darcy told her, reminding her that he was still there, still looking at her with his intense gaze.

"I know." She replied, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out of there.

"I left my number in there." He nodded to the letter still clutched in her hand. She had completely forgotten about it. "Will you call?"

"I don't know." She answered honestly. "I'm sorry. I have to go. Sorry," She turned, going to complete opposite way she needed to, just to avoid passing by him.

It took her a long time to read the letter. She had rushed upstairs, passed Charlotte and Bill with just a quick announcement that she was feeling ill. She ignored Bill's insistence that she at least come say goodbye to Mrs. DeBourgh's nephews and closed the door, praying Charlotte would be able to keep her husband from marching in and dragging Lizzy to the great house to mind her manners and say goodbye.

After a while, she heard the front door close and Bill chatting away as they passed by her window on the walk to the great house. Still, Lizzy lay face up in her bed on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Could she help it if she needed time to process the most perfect kiss she had ever received? The fact that it was from Darcy was definitely discerning. Still, it wasn't everyday a girl gets kissed like that. She had to decompress from it.

Finally, her curiosity could be denied no longer, and she tore open the hand written letter Darcy had delivered to her.

Dear Elizabeth,

As angry with me as you no doubt are, I first have to say how much I appreciate that you are even willing to read this letter. Secondly, I want you to know I will not waste my time or yours convincing you that you made a mistake in rejecting me. Clearly, I was under the impression that we had a completely different understanding of one another and for that I can only be ashamed that my own feelings have plainly differed so greatly from yours.

I hope you know, at least, that I have never lied to you, and never would. As much as it pains me to back up my accusations with the following story, I could not live knowing you put any kind of trust in George Wickham.

George and I grew up together. You might remember that I, like you, grew up in the country. My parents owned Pemberley Vineyards and I spent a happy childhood there. George was the son of my father's Vineyard Manager, and he had a house on the property. Our families were very close and as we practically lived together, George and I grew up as close as brothers.

As we grew older, however, we grew apart. We discovered an interest in computer security, but George and I differed on what was an acceptable way of testing our skills. In hindsight, I realize I had discovered that George has a cruel streak in him. What had once been innocent childhood pranks turned to unnecessarily mean tricks, which in turn developed into a love for breaking the law until I found I could not find enjoyment with anything he suggested we do.

After his father passed, my father supported George. However, George seemed to delight in wasting every opportunity handed to him. He either flunked out or was expelled from any school my father managed to get him into until finally he just stopped trying.

When my own excellent father passed, I was just twenty three and still a year from finishing my masters. Despite my lifelong experience with the company, including knowledge from all aspects of computer hardware and software, it was something I absolutely had to do if I was to step up as CEO of Darcy Technologies. I had also gained guardianship of my younger sister, Georgiana who was only thirteen at the time. I struggled to balance, work, school, and family.

At the same time, George showed up to hear what my father had left for him. I would like to say he showed up to pay his respects to a man who truly loved him like another son and wished nothing but the best for him, but I do not think George Wickham has it in him to be grateful to another human being.

As it turned out, my father left him a piece of the land; if George agreed to buckle down and finish school, as well as intern under the man who was currently working the land, in a few years it would be his. Later, George came to me to request monetary compensation in lieu of the land. I hope you don't think badly of me when I say how relieved I was that I would not have to share a property line with this man. We met with my father's estate lawyer and worked out a figure that was satisfying to both of us. I hoped never to see my old friend again once this transaction was final.

Unfortunately, only three years later, he invaded my life in the worst possible way.

Forgive me if I am sparse with details through this next account. I have not told another person this story and it still pains me to think about. I only want to tell you the particulars so you will understand how dangerous George can be. You can, of course, ask Richard for confirmation on anything I've said as he is as close as a brother to me and knows all that has happened.

Three years later, when Georgiana was just sixteen, George somehow lost all the money that my father left him. He approached Georgiana and seduced her, made her think he loved her. When they were about to fly to Las Vegas to go to one of those drive through wedding chapels, I happened to visit her at her apartment near the private school she was attending. The woman I hired to do the cooking and cleaning and generally just watch over Georgie when I was out of town had been a friend of Wickham's and was encouraging her to run away with him, letting him into the apartment, leaving them alone together.

Of course, I knew immediately that he was after her inheritance, and when I told him I was in charge of her trust until she turned 2 and that he would not see a dime, he left. I thought for good. Georgiana was crushed, of course. She had only remembered the kind boy who was like family. He had been gone before she had ever really known his true character, but she believed they were in love and his sudden departure broke her heart. As I took time off to console her through this terrible ordeal, Richard also came to stay with us, as another voice telling her none of this was her fault.

I can only thank God for Richard.

One night, when Georgie was acting a little bit more like herself, I left to take a meeting I had been putting off for weeks. Richard stayed with Georgie, but someone called him with a ruse, telling him I was in an accident and I didn't want Georgie to be worried so not to bring her along to the hospital. Luckily, halfway there he got ahold of me and we both realized something was terribly wrong.

Richard made it back first, and found Wickham

Here Lizzy could see the several hesitation marks on the paper, with a word completely crossed out. Clearly, this had been almost impossible for Darcy to write, and he struggled over an appropriate term.

Richard made it back first, and found Wickham on top of Georgie, with her crying for help. Richard, as you may know, had just gotten out of the army. I don't know what he did to Wickham, and he refused to ever tell me. When I got there, he was comforting Georgie, who, thank god, was only shaken up. Wickham was being led out in a stretcher. We pressed charges and found out we weren't the first ones to have done so.

Please, Elizabeth. Whatever you feel or don't feel for me, please don't trust that man.

I apologize for the length of this letter; I am sure there are some parts when I could be rambling but I needed to tell you why.

If you have any questions for me or Richard, if you just want to talk; if for any reason at all you need to call me, please don't hesitate to do so.

Love,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

He wrote his phone number under his name, as he told he did when he gave her the letter.

His story of growing up with Wickham, and what had happened, and almost happened to his sister left Lizzy with widely varying emotions. First she felt that it couldn't be true, that Darcy simply disliked the man and misunderstood his intentions. It might have been easier to convince herself of this if he hadn't continued the story with finding George on top of his sixteen year old sister, however. Lydia's age. Jesus. That poor, traumatized girl.

That meant she believed him, and if she believed him she had to reconcile the good opinion she had of George with the terrible one Darcy had given her. In the end, she decided that she was only here for the rest of the week and if she didn't want to make the transition from stubborn to stupid, it couldn't hurt to avoid George Wickham until then.

She found herself reading the first paragraph once more. He was understandably bitter in pointing out that they clearly had vastly different opinions of one another. She did feel a twinge of guilt. She didn't mean to make it seem as if she absolutely despised him. Okay, well, maybe she did in the moment, but the truth was that they did get along once in a while. What had she told him yesterday? He was the last man in the world she could ever love? Christ that was harsh. Of course, he had just gotten finished insulting her. But he was terrible with words, and she couldn't pretend she didn't know that. He was always sticking his foot in his mouth.

But, no.

He was arrogant, egotistical, and obviously self-centered enough not to realize she hadn't even liked him, let alone… She didn't regret her decision to reject him, she had just felt terrible in the way she had done it. Because, despite his flaws, she didn't totally hate him. They were even sort of friends.

And, can we talk about that kiss for a minute?

She groaned, putting the letter over her face. "Christ," She murmured to the room. If she had been on the fence, and she hadn't been – she firmly told herself, but if she had been – that kiss would have pushed her over the edge. She had never been kissed like that; she had never felt the fire that had erupted inside her chest before. If Richard hadn't interrupted them, what could have…?

But, again, no.

It was a good thing that Richard had come around the corner when he did. Lizzy had muddled things for poor Darcy, letting him kiss her like that when all she was trying to do was apologize and move on, put this behind them. Okay. So she messed up; but then so did he. He apologized and explained why she should probably stay away from George Wickham and she… What had she done? She let him kiss her.

Nice, she thought, now who was the egotist?

Lizzy did her best to appear normal for the rest of the trip, but was grateful when the time came to pack up the car with her stuff and take her to the airport. She had run back inside to grab an errant book, the same one she planned on reading on the trip home in fact, and when she came out there was Wickham, grinning his charming smile.

"Hey." She tried to appear casual, which was made all the more easy by the fact that she wasn't alone; Bill was already in the driver's seat and Charlotte was rearranging things in the trunk to make a better fit.

"We missed you at the farm." He said with a bit of a pout. He was still cute; he still looked and acted the same as yesterday but with the knowledge she now possessed, any interest she might have had in him was completely gone.

"Yeah, I never got another chance to get away, sorry." She shrugged.

"I thought Fitz might have scared you off me." He said, trying to appear teasing, but something in his tone was a question.

"Who, Darcy?" she pretended to be confused. "He's my best friend's husband's boss's nephew, or something." She shrugged again, laughing. Technically, this was true. "I barely know him." This was less true, but really, they would probably never meet again so what was the harm?

"Ah, good. Well, anyway if I'm ever working the farms in Nebraska I'll look you up. Longbourn Acres, right?" The charming grin was back.

Whoops. "Yep."

Of course, it would have been nice if Darcy had warned her before she had told this guy exactly where she lived. Mercifully, Bill gave two impatient beeps on the horn even though she was like five feet from the car. "Well, that's my ride. I'll see you around." She gave a bit of a wave and then scurried to get in the back seat.

Returning home for her last week of vacation before a new semester at school was exactly what Lizzy needed. She threw herself into the farm life, getting up with the sun and staying up no later than eight at night. She had no time to think of Darcy, of their kiss, of Jane and Charles, of anything.

Lydia, Kat, and her dad all packed into her Dads old truck to take her to the airport for reason she could not fathom. It wasn't until they were well on their way into the city that Lydia began cajoling their father to let her and Kat take a little trip to the mall on the way back from the airport that Lizzy realized their sudden need to see her off.

As they dropped her off, she felt a wave of affection for her two little sisters, and pulled them into a hug. "Be good, okay?" she advised.

"Thanks for the ride, pop," she hugged her father after he finished pulling her bags out of the truck bed.

"Come back soon, huh?" he patted her shoulder in what was, for him, a show of affection. "I was just getting used to having a little bit of sense spoken around the house."

She grinned, hugging him again. "I love you too, papa."

Lizzy threw herself into schoolwork for the next few weeks. She would break down every once in a while and read Darcy's letter, for reasons that fluctuated depending on her mood. She was curious; she felt guilty and needed to punish herself; she wanted to check that he actually signed it with 'Love, Fitzwilliam Darcy' – he did.

She also debated calling him every once in a while. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for being so mean to him, that she might not love him but she certainly didn't hate him, and could they maybe be friends? She never actually got up the courage to connect the call, but she did attempt it so often that she memorized his number.

What finally pushed her over the edge was hearing news from home; in the end, maybe from so many failed attempts, she called him like she was on autopilot.