In July of the year 1811, a small country estate, known as Netherfield Hall, was let to a gentleman of two and twenty. The folk around were not slow to take up gossips of such a fine man, whom by all accounts, was worth at least five thousand a year. All eyes were eagerly waiting his arrival, especially the mothers of daughters, who were yet to wed.

15th July 1811

"Bingley, do you still intend to show an appearance at the town's Assembly tomorrow? I am sure it will be full of country folk with little beauty and no fashion, very dull indeed," Darcy huffed, hoping his friend would have changed his mind and therefore by default, he would not need to bother.

"Yes, I wish to see what is on offer," he smirked, hoping for a bit of frill.

"You amaze me! You are always thinking of the ladies. You need to find a wife and settle down, now that you have leased this house. It needs a proper mistress, rather than have your sister host for you," he stated, but paused as he became consumed in his own thoughts. "Talking of which, I do have something that I wish to discuss with you, it is of great importance," Darcy said hesitantly, as he was not sure if he should approach his dear friend on the subject, at that particular moment.

"What's up Darcy? You suddenly look like you have the world on your shoulders," Bingley observed, now seeing the deep frown that had formed on Darcy's brow.

"I have been thinking a great deal over the past few months, about where my life is going. I cannot deny the fact that it is about time that I, myself, should settle down and take a wife.

"You know that London society does nothing for me, I only tolerate it because I am expected to attend certain functions, once in a while and people will think I am either ill or dead, if I do not attend Almack's at least once in a season. There is also the matter of the ladies, if I have to put up with another daughter's mother, trying to have her offspring compromised, I will go insane."

"Ha! They do flock around you like bees to a honey pot. I blame your worth," Bingley chuckled.

"Yes, but I can do nothing about that. So," Darcy said, as he took a deep breath, "I am considering your sister." To say Bingley was dumbfounded was an understatement, for he could not muster a word from his lips for nay on five minutes. "I seem to have struck you speechless," Darcy stated, now concerned that his idea was not a good one.

"Just a little… Darcy, you must be mad. Do you realise what you have just said? You are considering my sister for your wife?" Bingley said, questioning his friend's sanity.

"Yes, I am almost nine and twenty and before you know it, I would have reached my thirtieth year and beyond."

"But my sister?" Bingley questioned again, still not understanding his friend's logic.

"I know your sister, she has not let it go unnoticed that she has had her eye on me for some time, I could do worse."

"Yes, and you could do better," Bingley said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"But I have not found anyone tolerable enough to turn my head in such a way, what am I to do? Wait until I am sixty years old, with a walking stick? By that time I will probably be unable to perform those duties required to produce an heir.

"Your sister is not an unattractive woman and she seems of strong stock. I am sure she will be capable of doing her wifely duties without complaint and produce an heir or two and in return, she will live her life in complete luxury and not want for anything."

"She will not want for anything, but what about you? What if Caroline only gives you pleasures when you wish to have children and she locks her doors at all other times. I know you Darcy, you are hot blooded like the rest of us, do you anticipate on keeping a mistress as well?"

"No, that will not happen if I am to marry, I will expect my wife's door to be open regardless of her situation. I no longer visit Rose, have not done for months now. I wanted to detach myself from any form of activity, so that I could think long and hard about my future."

"Really? I wish I knew, I would have picked her up and looked after her," he smirked. "You know she is in high demand, what with being a pretty thing and the fact that in the past eight years, none of her five lovers have left her with issue, so you were onto a good one there, for your relief."

"She did adequately at the time, but I had to finish our arrangement, so that she did not distract my thoughts. I believe she is already taken with Viscount Hamilton, they were seen together a week after we parted."

"Gosh! It did not take her long, I suppose being a kept woman meant she had to move onto someone quick."

"So, now that is cleared up, do I have your blessing… if I were to ask her?"

"Do you need my blessing?"

"No, but I would like to have it all the same."

"Then go to it, but be it on your head, if things turn pear-shaped," Bingley warned.

16th July 1811

Darcy woke early the following morning, his sleep had been erratic over the previous two weeks and insomnia had hit him hard, stealing him of his much needed slumber. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep, for it would prove a wasted effort on his part, so instead of just lying in bed, staring at the canopy of his bed, he decided to ready himself for the day.

As he sat at the breakfast table alone, his mind wondered to the great outdoors. His own estate was in the depths of Derbyshire, an area boasting of the most finest woods in the country and nothing could compare to the wild and untamed beauty of its peaks. He sat and thought about what Hertfordshire had to offer, past an unvarying society and small country balls, I shall go for a ride and see for myself what has drawn Bingley to this place, for there must be something beyond what I have seen so far, he thought.

He could not see anything of great beauty, as he rode along one of the country pathways, for it seemed as any other southern county, flat and levelled in comparison to his homeland. As he rode, his mind drifted to the conversation he had had with his friend, the night before. As he contemplated on what had been discussed, he began to wonder if he was doing the right thing, was it desperation that led him to that particular choice in a wife? Miss Bingley was not, by any means, unattractive and he could easily see himself in the role as husband to her, as and when the time demanded it, but was that the life he wanted? To only bed a woman to produce an heir and for no other reason. Then he remembered his words to Bingley about not taking a mistress. Rose had been a constant in his life for best part of a year and he had been very content with their unions, but she did nothing for him beyond a weekly release of his pent up frustrations. Would Miss Bingley fulfil more than a mistress would? Could she entertain him in a way that not only satisfied his carnal lust, but his mind? She had enough conversation, but it was not of subjects he wished to talk about, for her ideas of good conversation amounted to London society, fashion and gossip. Also, her temperament was questionable and was not of his liking. She had clung to every word he spoke for the previous four years, a trait he found quite common amongst the 'gentle ladies' of London society. Her temper was rather sharp and aggressive towards the lower classes, which he abhorred. Could she be mistress of Pemberley? he pondered,would her behaviour soften, once I have taken her to the marriage bed and more importantly, would she allow me to bed her when I chose?

As he was contemplating this, a squirrel trespassed across the horses path, making it rear. Darcy was distracted, due to his thoughts, so his reaction was slow and he was thrown from the animal, landing on his back, with a thud. Trying to sit, he was flung back to the ground again and knocked unconscious by a rock, which had ricocheted from the horses skirmish.

Elizabeth Bennet was a gentlewoman of twenty, who lived but three miles from Netherfield Hall. Her early morning walks were her favourite time of the day, as they allowed her some much deserved peace from the chaos of her home. Her three silly sisters and an insufferable mother, did nothing for a peaceful existence and the only amount of calm she was able to find, was during her extensive rambling across the land.

As she walked, her mind filled with thoughts of the assembly, that was to take place that evening. She had heard that the new tenant of Netherfield Hall was to be attending, something her mother was most happy about, as it would allow for introductions to be made to all of her daughters. Elizabeth was glad that the large estate was finally occupied, as it had stood empty for quite some time. The new owner was therefore beneficial to the neighbourhood, whatever his intentions were.

As she walked further along the path, she became preoccupied with the summer sun and the delightful flowers that grew wild in the meadows. She picked some blooms and placed them into her hair, which had become rather windswept during her leisurely walk. Whilst paying no particular notice to her route, she came upon an odd sight in front of her, for she saw a bridled horse standing to one side of the woods. What on earth is a horse doing out this far from the lane? Where is its owner? she puzzled.

As she walked towards the animal, she noticed a foot appear from behind a hedge, making her freeze. She stood momentarily, worried that the person connected to the said foot was dead, but her courage rose and she was able to move herself forward, in order to examine the situation.

Moving closer, she gasped at the sight in front of her. She could see that he had fallen from his horse and was now laying unconscious. "Sir, you need to wake!" Elizabeth commenced. She surmised that it could not have been long, for the horse still seemed agitated. Ignoring the beast, she knelt beside the still body and pulled out her father's flask, which she had previously filled with water. Splashing a small amount onto the gentleman's face, she hoped it would bring him around. "Sir!" she said once more.

She did not recognise him, but knew that the man who lay before her was not Mr Bingley, for she had been told by the gossips that the new tenant was of fair complexion, a far cry from the stranger's dark features.

As she continued to splash water onto him, Darcy was beginning to sense his surroundings. His mind was still foggy, but he knew that there was someone close by, begging him to awaken. Lord! What has happened? Is it raining? I can hear a woman's voice, such a delightful sound, he thought. As he began to stir, Elizabeth could do nothing but bid him to awaken. As he opened his eyes, he tried to focus on the vision in front of him, for all he could see was a water nymph peering down at him. "You are Potamide, are you not?" he whispered, "Please… I beg of you, do not draw me into the waters."

Elizabeth could not comprehend what the gentleman meant by this, for she knew Potamides were a species of water nymphs, who were to be found by brooks and streams, but there was no body of water for at least a mile. "Sir, you are mistaken, for I am no water nymph," she stated.

"But my face is wet?" Darcy said.

Elizabeth laughed, "I only splashed you with the contents of my flask, so that it may help you to stir. I think it did the trick, although you do seem rather confused," she sighed.

"I am not confused, dear creature," he confirmed, as he took in her loveliness, "I am, however, bewitched by the sight of you and therefore can only conclude that you must be a magical being. If not a nymph, then maybe a deity? Or even a goddess? For such unblemished beauty cannot be found in amongst us mere mortal humans, that I am sure. I have searched this earth for such and have not been satisfied with my findings."

"I believe sir, that you have been temporarily maddened by a blow to your head, for I can assure you, that I am very human and have many faults," she said shyly. To even consider her as beautiful, must be a result of an injury, for had her mother not cemented the idea that she only showed a trace of beauty, compared to that of her elder sister.

Darcy could not take his eyes from her, however, he allowed his gaze to wander about her face and noticed her hair. "You have picked flowers," he said, as he brought his hand up to move her stray tresses from her face. "So lovely," he added, as the tips of his fingers glided down her cheek and onto her throat, making Elizabeth gasp at the gentleness of his touch. She knew that it was not proper for such a stranger to be acting as he was, but for some reason, Elizabeth could not move herself away from him.

As they regarded each other, she thought him very handsome. His almost black eyes were pleading with her, beckoning her forward. She found herself caught up in his hypnotic energy and before she knew it, he had kissed her, tenderly upon the lips. "Your lips are so soft," he breathed. Elizabeth could feel his lips move across her face, where he planted another soft caress upon her cheek and continued a pathway down her neck, where he noticed a pretty little freckle and placed a soft kiss upon it. He then traversed down onto her throat and bosom, where she whimpered her reaction to such a dangerous, yet concupiscent act.

Panic struck, as she regained a degree of common sense and pulled away abruptly. "Sir, that will not do, you have not acted as you should," she breathed heavily, trying to get back some sort of normality to her comportment.

"Forgive me, I am not being myself, I must be under some sort of spell, you have place upon me."

"I think it is either the bump on your head has affected you, or you are indeed a libertine," she said abruptly.

"I am no libertine, only a gentleman struck by some magical spell."

Elizabeth was about to disagree with him, when she heard the sound of horse hooves approaching. Now panicked at the fact that she would be found alone with a strange man, she realised she needed to leave the scene, "I have to go, I cannot stay!"

"No, please do not go. I do not even know your name. Please… at least give me the knowledge as to whom I have fallen in love with."

"No sir, you are delusional, you are not thinking straight," she said in a panicked flurry, before running off into the woods.

Bingley and his sister were having breakfast at Netherfield, whilst Darcy had taken to riding the countryside.

He had the previous night's conversation with Darcy, swimming about in his head. The notion of his friend's decision played on him greatly, so much so, that he had to share it with his sister, for fear of drowning in his thoughts. "Caroline, something came to my understanding last night that affects you."

"Oh, did it brother? What is it?" she asked.

"Darcy mentioned that he may propose marriage to you," he said, without a thought of how his loose tongue could cause an issue.

"He said what?" Caroline beamed. "Mr Darcy talked to you of marriage… to me?"

"Yes, he has apparently been considering it for a few months now," Bingley said, as he tucked into his eggs. "You cannot, however, let him know that I have told you, for he did not give me leave to divulge any of this to you, but I could not help but say. You know I cannot keep anything secret from you, for long."

"So, when do you think he will ask for a private audience?" she said, "Do you think it will be today?"

"I do not know, I am not sure he has made up his mind completely, but he did mention he had been considering it seriously for quite some time. So cannot see how he can retract from his own thoughts now."

Caroline was beside herself, for she had wished… longed for this day to come. Although, she had ensured that Mr Darcy knew fully of her feelings, she did not know if he had ever reciprocated them. So, Mr Darcy loves me? she thought.

Bingley finished his breakfast quickly and made his excuses to his sister, saying that he needed to ride the grounds. Caroline was too happy, deep in her thoughts, to even worry about what her brother was up to. She needed to return to her bedchambers in order to make a better effort with her appearance, for Darcy's sake, maybe I will change into the orange silk dress with peacock feathers, she pondered.

As Bingley rode along the lane, blissfully ignorant of his faux pas he had just made, he noticed Darcy's horse in the distance. Picking up speed, he reached the mare in less than a minute and jumped down to tend to the untethered animal, which still looked agitated. As he did, he heard Darcy call out to him.

"Darce! Whatever has happened?" Bingley cried out, as he ran over to where his friend was lying.

"The horse reared and I fell, then… then the most wonderful thing happened," he beamed.

"What happened?" Bingley said curiously.

"I saw a vision, a wonderful vision of the most beautiful creature. I assumed she was not real, but she insisted that she was indeed human."

"I think you have hit your head, I can see the bruise from here," Bingley exclaimed.

"No, she was here, look!" Darcy said as he picked up the flask that Elizabeth had left behind and a small sprig of Baby's-breath that had fallen from her hair.

"T.B.? Who is that?" Bingley said, looking at the flask.

"I do not know, does it have a monogram?" he asked, as he place the flower into his booklet.

"Yes, but enough of that, we need to get you back to the house, so the doctor can look at you."

"I am fine, just get me to my feet," Darcy mumbled as he struggled to get up.