AN:

Hello, my patient (or if you're like me, not so patient) readers!

A certain person (you know who you are) pointed out several typos in the last chapter. I think I fixed them. I can't really update that often because our house is, unfortunately, the black hole of internet connection, my room being the center, so I hope that y'all will spare some grace.

Thanks to everyone, including those I couldn't reply to:-)

~LMNOPQR

Netherfield, too early to truly be morning

Lizzy closed the door to her temporary room and crawled back into bed. She knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep, but unlike earlier that night, she didn't mind. Instead, she wanted to sort through her facts and emotions.

Lizzy had many questions, so she decided that she would try to answer as many of them as she could, the first being 'what just happened?' Well, Mr. Darcy had had a dream about herself, been scared into consciousness, and then confessed, or rather implied, that he held a tendre for her and was struggling to overcome it. That being done, she moved on to decipher the next problem.

Had he been in his right mind? Her first thought had been that Mr. Darcy was drunk, but now she was not so sure. He had spoken clearly (albeit hoarsely), walked confidently, and she had seen neither glass nor decanter in the library. The man had not struck her as the type to indulge anyways. Therefore, he must have been in sober, which made his musings even more astonishing.

The most confusing question though, was 'why?' It seemed awfully vague to Lizzy, but she couldn't find any other way to put it. According to said man, she was 'everything he had been searching for, but never found'. She was not so sure what that was supposed to mean. He had also said something about her being 'bewitching', only more... explicitly.

That meant that he was attracted to her, the very same woman he had described as 'tolerable'? That does not quite add up, she thought. But perhaps his opinion has changed? No, for if it had, surely, he would have said something. However, that could not be true, since he was apparently attempting to suppress any feelings for her.

Lizzy punched her pillow. She was going in circles! Rolling over onto her back, squashed pillow still in hand, she decided to wait until tomorrow when she could make some more observations. Forming any conclusions now would be hasty.

Netherfield, still too early

Fitzwilliam Darcy was frustrated. Frustrated with Miss Bingley's tiresome comments, frustrated that he had let Charles convince him to come to Hertfordshire, frustrated that he couldn't get back to sleep after dozing off in the library, and frustrated with himself for being attracted to Miss Elizabeth.

Why was it that, when he was around her, he acted abnormally for his behavior? What was it about her that fascinated him so much? He had meant it as a rhetorical question, but he knew the answer: her eyes. That, and her beautiful, rich laugh. The image of her at the Meryton assembly, conversing with one of the Lucas ladies appeared in his head.

Darcy watched as Miss Elizabeth approached Miss Lucas, on the opposite side of the room. She made some comment, but he could not hear it. He probably wouldn't have anyways, for his attention was focused on the amazing ease that she possessed in speaking with someone, and the glimmer of mirth in her eyes. Miss Lucas replied, and Elizabeth - Miss Elizabeth - tilted her head back and erupted into laughter.

Darcy was certain that if birds could laugh, they would have sounded like Miss Elizabeth. Her delicate shoulders shook slightly, and he noticed that a few of her brown curls had fallen out of place. It was just then that she looked at him. Her mouth took a more mischievous twist and one of her eyebrows arched heavenward. Yes, heavenward, for surely, she was an angel from the sky.

Perhaps she was not just tolerable after all.

She had ingrained the memory into his head. She was all he could think about, and the only woman who had affected him in such a way. She was intelligent, and caring, and sharp-witted, and most of all, enchanting.

But I have not fallen in love with her. I will not let myself, Darcy reminded himself. He had lost track of how many times he had repeated those exact words in the past week.

Netherfield, finally morning

Charles Bingley walked up the stairs to the second floor of his house. He was going to speak to the housekeeper and confirm that Miss Bennet was being taken diligent care of. After all, she was sick, and he was quite worried on her behalf.

Where is Mrs. Adams? He wondered, peeking around the corner of the hall. The kind, old woman was obviously not on the first floor, so he headed down the hallway upstairs. As he did so, he passed a slightly open door. Stopping in his tracks, he reached out to shut it, but froze when he heard the distinct sound of voices on the other side. It was Miss Bennet and her sister.

"...just what a young man ought to be... lively... happy manners..." He almost jumped. Was she speaking of him, or some other suitor?

"...handsome... character is thereby complete." That would be Miss Elizabeth.

"...flattered... asking me to dance a second time..." They were most assuredly discussing him! No one else had danced twice with Miss Bennet. The sisters soon spoke of different things – something about Mrs. Bennet and riding a horse. The footsteps of a servant jerked Bingley back to his senses. He quietly slipped away, heart racing, missing housekeeper forgotten.

AN:

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! It was more of a filler, and a short one at that, but still fun to write after a long day. (my older brother graduated high-school Yaay!) Hope y'all are having a good weekend!

~LMNOPQR