Elizabeth's eyes widened and her body involuntarily tensed. She closed her eyes and shook her head, convinced that her previous day dream had evoked unwarranted hallucinations. However, when her eyes were opened again, Mr. Darcy's reflection remained as it was.

He looked thinner, paler, and older. His usual look of disdain was not present, and its absence was replaced with a desperate and longing look. He stood still, his hands hanging loosely by his side, his head slightly tilted towards Elizabeth. He stood still in his navy blue overcoat, as tall and as handsome as ever.

Elizabeth gasped and slowly turned around. She slowly drew her eyes to meet his, still in shock and disbelief at the man standing before her. It was he who had left her two years ago. It was he who had left without warning; he who turned his back to her without a second thought.

Both stared and took in each other's appearance, the tension between them uneasy yet bittersweet.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth slowly said as she quickly stood up and curtsied. It had been too long since she last uttered his name, and it rolled off of her tongue clumsily in its unfamiliarity.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," said Darcy, as Elizabeth's heart took an unexpected leap. Although she had always loved the way Darcy said her name, she never thought that it would still send shivers down her body and quicken the pace of her heart. Blushing furiously, she looked down as a loud silence followed.

Finally, Elizabeth cleared her throat and decided to speak.

"What brings you here, Mr. Darcy?" she inquired her voice unsteady and shaking.

"The union of your sister and my closest friend," he replied. "And you," he added, nervously looking at Elizabeth, struggling to suppress his surge of affections and emotions for her. He had thought of her every day during their separation and dreamed of her every night.

Upon hearing Darcy's last statement, Elizabeth turned her head away. She reminded herself that she was to be married and burned in shame for having stronger feelings toward Darcy than she ever had toward her fiancé.

"It was a pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth replied as she hastily curtsied again and hurried back to her home before Darcy was able to return her statement. She thought it best in her judgment to keep her distance from Darcy—the less contact, the better. She believed that her attempts to sever all emotions connected to Darcy will eventually be triumphantly successful.

It was too late, she told herself. Too late for even fate itself to intervene.

Darcy continued to watched Elizabeth until she disappeared between the trees. It was hardly the reunion scenario he had imagined and replayed in his mind over and over again.

He had studied her carefully as she spoke to him and concluded that Elizabeth was indifferent and detached to him. She refused to look at him during the conversation and seemed faraway and distant. Without warning, she ended the conversation and walked away from him without any hint of hesitation. Although he was initially confident that Elizabeth was angry at his sudden departure, his confidence soon wavered and turned into doubt for his letters to her all went unanswered.

He had written to her consistently and persistently for a year. Not once did she reply. Not once did she write him a letter. Darcy confirmed his fears as he stood alongside the bank of the pond.

Elizabeth no longer loved him.

Emotions he had fought hard to suppress overflowed within him and took hold of him. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, shook with frustration and trembled at loss. He remained there until dusk, staring mindlessly beyond the pond. He looked down at the pond's darkening waters and scowled at his own fading reflection. Who was the man standing in front of him? What had happened to his ambition, his life, his love?

As the sun disappeared under the forest of trees, Darcy slowly turned and headed back to Netherfield.