"Elizabeth, you will marry Mr. Collins!" Mrs. Bennet cried, following her second eldest daughter out into the courtyard of Longbourne. Elizabeth, the daughter in question, ignored her mother and sprinted off the lawn and into the forest, without even stopping to pick up her hatchet. She would rip any dreadfuls that came after her apart with her bare hands.

She had gotten a half mile down the forest path before she slowed. Still grumbling to herself, she roundhouse kicked a nearby sapling, snapping it in half. Satisfaction rushed through her.

A twig snapped up ahead. Elizabeth's head shot up. A chorus of low growls signaled the onset of a herd of dreadfuls. She swore, a stream of words Jane would scold her for allowing to slip out of her lips.

The first dreadful lumbered out of the forest, bloodshot eyes fixed on her. On its heels, two more in much worse condition shuffled along on stumps of feet. Elizabeth drew her hand knife from her garter and took a ready position. Anger thrummed through her bloodstream, fueling her battle rage.

Before the dreadful could even get near her blade, a revolver shot ran out, quickly followed by two more. The three foremost dreadfuls fell on the forest floor, twitching and then laying still. Elizabeth jerked around just as another shot rang, flying over her shoulder and sticking in the crown of the final dreadful and rendering it inert.

"I say!" She cried out in shock. None other than Fitzwilliam Darcy stood on the path behind her, smoking revolver in hand.

"Good afternoon." Darcy said curtly.

The rage boiling in Elizabeth's stomach was beginning to reach a peak. First mother and Mr. Collins, now Darcy and his holier-then-thou attitude...

Before she knew exactly what she was doing, she was running towards Mr. Darcy, fist raised. He blocked her attack cooly with but an almost imperceptible widening of his eyes. He was certainly confused by her behavior. Had he not just saved her life?

Elizabeth didn't hold any punches back, and Darcy merely played defense. He wouldn't hit a lady without finding the probably cause.

"Miss Bennet." He said, deflecting a high brow kick and gently pushing her away from him.

Elizabeth ignored him and threw another kick, which he ducked.

"Miss Bennet, please. I feel I must know the cause of your obvious distress."

Elizabeth swore at him, and his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

"Good lord, will you get a handle on your temper?"

"My mother-" She punched Darcy in the gut, satisfied as he backed away. "Is determined to marry me to that godawful man, Mr. Collins."

"Oh." Was all Darcy said in reply, trying to regain his footing on the path.

"Could you imagine? Me, with that intolerable man. I would rather be eaten alive."

"That is hardly an alternative." Darcy said "I should think you would just say no. From what I know of your character, no man could make you a proper wife even if he wanted to."

Elizabeth's anger flared, and she punched him in the face, satisfied when a small trickle of blood leaked from below that proud nose. Darcy wiped at his nose and stared at his hand in disbelief.

"Now, Miss Bennett. Do be reasonable. I am hardly the cause of your problems."

"No, but you certainly don't help the situation. And I quite like giving you a beating I'm sure you deserve."

Darcy all but rolled his eyes.

"Do you think that if I were actually concerned about being injured by you, I would let your blows fall?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and retreated a step.

"See, Miss Bennett. I really would like to help you. But seeing as you are either too prideful or too stubborn-"

"You could help me." Elizabeth stated bluntly. Darcy backed off his guard slightly. It hadn't been a question.

"How, pray tell, do you suggest I help you?" He asked.

Elizabeth turned, and faster than he thought possible, delivered a swift kick that sent him back into a tree. He slid down, slightly dazed. Elizabeth approached, leaning over him.

"You could take me, right here and now, and help me get rid of this frustration." Her voice was softer, huskier now. Her prideful tone was all but gone.

Good Lord, was Elizabeth Bennett seducing him?

"I beg pardon, Miss Bennett. You are a lady-"

"Any useful woman lost her virginity as part of her training. Getting rid of flimsy female inhibitions is key to mastering the body and mind."

"Be that as it may, the proper-" He didn't get to finish, because her lips dropped roughly onto his. He couldn't help but reciprocate, it had been many months since he'd felt the touch of a woman...

"Elizabeth..." He half-protested, half-groaned as she straddled his lap. This was not proper.

"Take me." Elizabeth commanded. Her dark eyes found his blue ones. Fitzwilliam Darcy mustered all his courage to protest, but a sudden stiffening in his most English bits betrayed him. He knew Elizabeth could feel it.

"Come now, Darcy. This needn't leave this forest. You're hardly the first man to be between my legs, and I'm hardly the first woman between yours. It'll be mutually beneficial.

His desire triumphed over his will. He seized her hips and buried his face in her bosom. He could pretend she was any woman on the street, surely she would be pretending he was some other man.

"Behind the cover of trees." Darcy growled. "In case someone comes looking for you."

She was up quicker than a flash, her face and shoulders flushed. Darcy hauled himself to his feet. He could taste blood on his lips from where his nose had run. And god, was it hard to walk with a stiffness in his breeches. But as soon as he was up, Elizabeth was kissing him fervently, and he nearly fell back over at her passion.

Darcy tried to back up, but his boots were easily tangled in the forest growth. Elizabeth rolled her eyes and him and tugged him back into the trees. He followed amicably, wondering vaguely why he was allowing her to be the dominant one in this coupling.

Elizabeth turned suddenly, when they had reached a distance away from the path.

"Take your clothes off." She commanded. Darcy reached for the buttons on his shirt, then scowled at her.

"I think I should be-" He didn't get far before Elizabeth slapped him across the face.

"We only have minutes until my sisters or some herd of dreadfuls find us. If you have any hope of fucking before then, I suggest you take. Off. Your. Clothes." She spat.

Darcy found himself unable to protest, shedding his jacket, vest, and shirt with ease. He undid the top button of his breeches and underclothes. He gestured to Elizabeth to see if it met her approval. She nodded curtly, then deftly reached under her skirt to remove her own petticoats, tossing them aside. Darcy's heart took a leap. By god, the wanton woman was dead serious.

"Lay down." Darcy said hoarsely before clearing his throat. "Please."

"You don't have to be so formal with me, Darcy." Elizabeth replied. She did as she was asked. Darcy reached into his breeches and palmed himself, wondering why he bothered when he was already hard as a rock at the prospect of Elizabeth Bennett on the forest floor, expecting him to fuck - as she put it.

"Darcy, for gods sake..." Elizabeth snapped. He knelt to her and pulled her skirt up, reaching his hand to her most sacred space. She was wet as a lake.

The moment he entered her, sparks flew behind his eyes. Gods, he'd forgotten what a woman felt like.

"Move..." Elizabeth groaned. She was by no means virginally tight, but he was stretching her good. Darcy snapped his hips forwards, eliciting a breathy moan from his partner. He did it again, and again, losing himself in the motions, listening to Elizabeth's moans beneath him.

His climax fell upon him quicker than he would have liked, the familiar tightness in his belly creeping up too soon.

"Miss Bennett, I'm afraid I'm-" Before he could finish the sentence, she shoved him off her.

"Miss Bennett, what-"

"On your back. I'm not finished with you yet."

Darcy lay back, apprehensive. He'd never had a woman demand to be on top of him before, but it hardly surprised him Elizabeth would be so forward.

She was on him in a flash, settling her skirts around him and allowing him to slide back into her most sacred space. Darcy's eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the change in space and friction... Gods above, she was tight.

She began riding him with the skill of a practiced horsewoman, setting a relentless pace. One hand slipped below her skirts to touch herself, and Darcy's eyes widened as she fell apart with her own climax right before his eyes. He didn't even realize he was climaxing himself until Elizabeth leapt off him like she'd been burned. His seed splashed hotly on his stomach.

"Elizabeth..." He choked, still in the throes of finishing.

She gave him a hard, calculating look.

"Good day, Mr. Darcy."

And with a rustle of skirts, she was gone, leaving him on his own in the middle of the forest with nothing but her petticoat to clean himself up with.