A/N I had "Baby, It's Cold Outside" stuck in my head. I thought what if I could remake it with Darcy and Lizzy? Well, this is what happened. Enjoy!
Elizabeth Bennet peered around her curtain at the landscape below. The early morning sun peeked over the horizon, but much of its light was absorbed by the heavy grey clouds that amassed in the sky above.
After the long night at the Netherfield ball, she knew the rest of her family would be abed for much of the morning. She couldn't deny the energy that filled her body and decided to go for a walk.
She dressed warmly and left the house without seeing anyone. The air was much cooler than she had anticipated and she considered going back for a warmer coat. The idea she might run into someone who might curtail her outing made her decision easier. Walking would keep her warm.
By the time she had reached the end of the lane, snow had begun to fall in puffy white blobs. Again, she considered returning to the house, and again her anxious energy urged her onward. It wasn't until the snow began to swirl angrily, obscuring her view, that she realized she had made a poor choice leaving the house.
He should have left earlier, Fitzwilliam Darcy realized. Snow was beginning to fall lazily, at least for the moment. However, with the clouds being as low hung and heavy as they were, surely the snowfall would become much more treacherous as the day continued. There would be no trip to London today.
He stalked down the stairs, intent on heading to the stables for a quick ride. Anything to get away from Caroline's machinations for a few moments at least. The house was quiet. Too quiet, he thought. "Hello?" Heading for the kitchens, he figured he would be able to find the cook or at least a scullery maid.
No one was there. The stoves were cold, and they weren't even prepared for lighting. Confused, he walked out the back door, heading for the stables. There was no one there either, and more importantly, all carriages and horses were missing as well, at least on first notice. Darcy finally saw his personal stallion tucked away in a stall toward the back of the stables.
He marched back to the house, intent on finding someone to answer his questions. He walked into the breakfast room to find that the furniture had been covered. Finally, realization dawned, and he raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Sure enough, Charles was not in his room. A cursory glance revealed that all the bedrooms were empty. The Bingleys had decamped from Netherfield, and somehow he had been left behind.
The servants must have returned to their homes as well, he realized. They must have thought that all the inhabitants had left. Well, he decided, he would have to make due, at least until he could safely return to London. He looked out the nearest window. The view of the nearby lawn was obliterated by the swirling snow. It seemed he would be here for some time.
Lizzy's bones ached, she was so cold. She could barely see her hand in front of her face. She cursed her own impulsiveness. How long before she was found missing? How much more time before anyone would think to amass a search? Too much, she realized as a shiver wracked her small frame. She had to keep moving. Perhaps she could find shelter before she froze to death.
She had never really contemplated her own death before. At only twenty, death had always seemed so far away. Reality sunk in, and she considered all that she hadn't done. Everything she had planned on someday. Travel to the north to visit the craggy Peak District was the first thought. Marriage and children intruded immediately afterward.
Jane was happy and would be happy with anyone. She loved Mr. Bingley, but she had been in love before and undoubtedly, if Mr. Bingley didn't come up to scratch, she would fall in love again in the future. Life was all sunshine and roses to Jane. She never thought ill of anyone, even if they were as vicious as Caroline Bingley. Lizzy loved her sister, but Jane was naive and sometimes willfully blind.
Lizzy had always wanted to be married, but she was also very stubborn and opinionated on what her future husband would be like. She had seen marriages based on power, connections, and money. She had seen them based on rash decisions and lust. She had seen some based on prudence and some on last-ditch efforts. She had seen precious few that were based on love and respect, but that had always been what she wanted. The problem was finding a man who was strong, kind, devoted, and faithful enough to risk giving her heart.
Life with the constant criticism of her own mother had taught Lizzy to shelter her thoughts and feelings. She was, for the most part, strong, confident, and independent, but it only took a word to send her spiraling into self-doubt and she hated that.
As she trudged through the accumulating snow, she thought about Mr. Darcy. She had been attracted to him from the outset, she admitted to herself. He was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, and butterflies had flown around her tummy whenever he had looked at her. His insult had affected her more than she wished to acknowledge. She was attracted and tempted, but he wasn't. He had made her feel inadequate and unattractive, and she resented him for it.
To make matters worse, he continually stared at her. She knew this because she found her gaze drawn to him again and again whenever they were in company together. A vision of his black curls and his deep blue eyes floated before her in the swirling sea of white. She wondered briefly if she was dying. Would her last thoughts be of him? Perish the thought! She willed her mind to think of her family. Of her father and of Jane, but alas, only Mr. Darcy remained. He seemed so real. More real than she did. Lizzy's eyelids fluttered, trying to stay open. She must continue to move! She was floating, Mr. Darcy's face close to her own. Her fingers were numb, but she reached out to trace his full lips. "Mr. Darcy," she rasped before slipping into oblivion.
Darcy was still unsure of how his valet had managed to leave him behind, out of all the servants in the house. He had discovered his own clothing and accoutrements were missing, presumably taken by the absent servant. Deciding to make himself useful, he prepared a fire in the hearth of the library. Although the library at Netherfield lacked in. comparison to Pemberley or even Darcy House, it seemed like the easiest room to heat. He had located plenty of wood, but unfortunately, there was not much food left in the house.
He walked to the window, figuring that pulling the heavy curtains over the window may provide another barrier to the frigid air outside. A shadow of movement caught his eye, and he chuckled to himself. Of course, he would see her. From the moment he had laid eyes on Elizabeth Bennet, he had struggled to resist her siren's call. He recalled the moment at the assembly when Charles had offered to introduce her to him. What had he said? Some nonsense about her not tempting him, meanwhile trying to hide the bulge in his breeches. Every time he saw her, she appeared more beautiful. It had gotten so bad while she was residing under the same roof as he that he had frequently found himself pacing the floor in front of her bedchamber door, convincing himself that she would not be a proper wife. He had almost decided that duty and honor meant nothing when compared to her sparkling wit and her unearthly beauty, then the sisters had left. Reality and rational thought had intruded, and a part of him mourned the loss.
Afterward, she had met Wickham and, based on their conversation during their dance the night before, he had already begun spreading his tale of woe here in Meryton. The dance had begun so well. Her face was flushed and curls had begun to escape her coiffure. His eyes were drawn to her heaving bosom, and he couldn't help imagining her passionate nature being allowed roam free in his bed. He had tried to follow her conversation while battling a raging erection, at least until she mentioned Wickham. That had hit him as hard as dousing himself in ice water would have. He had been angry, he realized. George Wickham's ability to charm and beguile had always allowed him to make friends so easily, meanwhile, Darcy had always had to struggle with shyness and an inability to fit in with most people. He had wanted Elizabeth to understand him, but instead, she had fallen for Wickham's lies.
He reached up again to shut the curtains when again, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Good God! It was her! Somehow, in the middle of an unexpected blizzard, she was here! He raced outside, knowing she would not survive long in the freezing temperatures. Just before he reached her, she fell to her knees. He picked her up, a part of him reveling on the feel of her curves in his arms. Her beautiful green eyes were missing their normal sparkle as she looked up at him. Her cold fingers brushed his lips and she whispered his name, although not the one he wanted to hear from her. Then, she relaxed into his arms, falling into unconsciousness. He told himself he was checking her breathing as he leaned forward, but as his lips pressed against hers, he recognized the excuse for the lie it was. He abhorred deceit and dishonesty, even to himself. He quickly brought her into the house and deposited her on the chaise lounge that was in front of the fire.
Consciousness returned slowly and painfully. Lizzy was aware of the tingling sensation of pins and needles in her fingers and toes. Thankfully, she knew that meant she would recover feeling in those extremities. The crackling of a fire and the swish of a page turning could be heard, and she struggled to open her eyes. "Shh, you're safe." A man's voice, but she couldn't quite place it. Somehow, he made her feel safe and protected. "Let yourself wake slowly. There is no need to panic. I am here." A warm hand covered hers, and her fingers twitched. His voice was warm and soothing. She thought she would be happy to hear it for the rest of her life. She opened her eyes and looked toward the man who was wrapped in shadows. The fire in the hearth provided some light as well as the candle that sat on the table next to the man, but he was leaned over her in a way that kept the flickers of light away from his face.
"Who? Where?" She muttered quietly, confusion reigning over all other emotions.
"It is I, Mr... Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam Darcy. You are at Netherfield."
She smiled sadly. "I thought I had survived, but perhaps not. You would not be here if I had. My own Will." She closed her eyes again.
"You are alive, Elizabeth, and you are also mine." It was true. Fate had intervened and had given him his secret desire. He would be a fool to let her go again.
Her eyes flew open. "Mr. Darcy? What? Where is everyone?" Panic clawed in her throat and she tried to sit up.
"Shh, Elizabeth, all is right. Although we are alone in the house, you have nothing to fear from me." His hand clasped hers, his warm skin soaking into her chilled fingers.
"I must go! We cannot be here together!"
"Darling girl, it is too cold for you to go anywhere. We are already here together."
"You are very kind to have rescued me, but I really cannot stay here with you!"
"You are still frozen, my love. You must warm yourself before we even consider leaving."
"Why are you calling me that? You don't even like me!" Her voice caught in her throat as she tried to keep her tears from flowing.
"You are wrong, Elizabeth. I do like you. I love you. I have been struggling over what I wanted and what I thought I had to do, but I have always thought you were one of the most beautiful women of my acquaintance. You are intelligent and caring. I have wanted you for my own since we met."
"You said I was not tempting." She blinked wet lashes, afraid to trust his words.
"Oh my love, you are so tempting." His laugh was choked somehow. "When we are married, I will be happy to show you."
"My parents will be worried about me," she sighed, starting to accept the inevitable.
"I know, and I'm sorry about that, but there is nothing to be done right now. There are no servants here, and I wouldn't risk sending them out in this if there were." He helped her sit up and handed her a glass of port. "Drink this slowly. It should warm you up, and even allow you to sleep."
Her eyes were luminescent over the rim of the glass. "I don't want to sleep," she whispered. "I am much too afraid to wake to find this all a dream."
A drop of the wine remained on her lips and he kissed it away. "It is not a dream, love. Or if it is, it is one that will last for an eternity." His lips found hers again, and soon his tongue was licking at her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She parted her lips, and his tongue quickly darted into her mouth, encouraging her to use her own tongue to play titillating games.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers running through his soft hair. "There will be talk when it is discovered we were here alone."
"Talk that will die down once we are married. I don't want a long engagement." His lips meandered down her neck, causing shivers to wrack her body.
"That will cause talk too," she breathed, moaning as he nipped her earlobe with his teeth. "People can be vicious."
"That will die down too, once a Darcy baby doesn't appear before nine months time." His hands roamed over her curves, touching and squeezing in turn. "Your lips are delicious," he muttered as he kissed her achingly.
"Are you so sure there will not be a Darcy baby in less than nine months?" She wantonly slid her leg over his, straddling his lap.
"Minx," he growled as he grasped her buttocks and flexed his hips into hers. As long as his breeches stayed on and buttoned, she could be assured of keeping her virginity. Of course, who knew how long this storm would last! Reality reared its ugly head, and he recalled her condition mere moments ago. He gently slid her from his lap. "As much as I enjoy this, you are not well."
Her face was rosy and the sparkle was back in her eyes. Darcy wanted nothing more than to take her to bed. "I feel much better, but perhaps you are right." She said. "We should talk." Talk. He wasn't sure he could concentrate on a conversation. He had never had an erection so hard and needy before. "What happened between you and Mr. Wickham?" Well, that solved that problem. He told her everything, including his attempt to abscond with Georgiana. "I cannot believe I thought he was truthful! I was so blind!"
"Had I been more willing to converse with you and with others in the area, it would have been more difficult for you to have trusted him. He is a charming snake, and you are not the first to fall for his lies, nor the last I should think."
"We should do something." He liked the idea of them being a 'we.'
"Perhaps so," he agreed, "But nothing can happen until this storm stops." He looked at her and smiled. "You will marry me, will you not? I do so love you, most ardently."
"Yes, Will, I shall marry you." The kiss that followed lasted for a very long time. After all, everyone knows that there is nothing like a heated kiss to warm a loving couple when it is cold outside.