Author's Note: Wow! So much amazing feedback and great reviews! I am so glad people are enjoying this this little brain child I've had tucked away for a while. Never fear - I am very busy but this story is stuck in my head so I will be doing my best to write often and update frequently! Now...to address a few comments!

A lot of people were saying that Felicity should die in childbirth. As nice and neatly as that would wrap this problem up, you mercenaries you, that is not the direction I'm heading here. I relish in the heartache and struggle one must go through before reaching a proper HEA so Felicity will be around for a very long time!

To whoever the guest who left the comment about proper Regency laws and mores, I wish you had left a name! I loved your comment and I really appreciated the notes and feedback! I am fully aware about rules of illegitimacy at the time and how that would work so never fear! I shall be adhering to those customs and social laws of the time. (Side note just for us nerdy Regency fans: For people as powerful/wealthy as Darcy, there were ways to legitimize bastard children however, as in this fic, Darcy already has a firstborn son so any illegitimate child would have almost as much right to inherit as a second/third/fourth son at the time after their parent's death (provided their elder siblings were living) and would, much in the same way Col. Fitzwilliam's parents had left him some money in their will, but he did not inherit the estate...that's pretty much how that would work. Unless an older sibling died childless which would then leave the line of succession of the estate up for debate and often times, when not entailed to a direct person, an illigitimate child that the father had claimed as his own had some rights to an inheritance over very distant relations who were not connected to the previous owner other than by distant ancestors. All of this in regards to this story, however, are a moot point as I don't plan on having Darcy die at any point and I hadn't yet considered children...though maybe I will later. I don't know. We'll see! - Sorry for this long monologue - I'm a history nerd and this was really exciting for me!)

Amenstia: Your PM feature is off. Thanks! I appreciate that! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!

And now to the part you are actually interested in...

Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire's wife had just given birth to a daughter. Felicity Darcy refused to name her child Anne. (As she said to her husband, who wanted to name their child after a dead person they had never met?!) Rather spitefully, he suggested the name he truly wished for his daughter instead: Elizabeth. Felicity Darcy didn't hate it. One month later, in Pemberley's parish, Lily Elizabeth Darcy was christened. Her father cried. His neighbors thought it sweet he loved his daughter so much. His wife found it annoying. His sister knew that though he indeed loved his daughter immensely, that wasn't why he was crying and instantly wrote a letter to her cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam who traveled to Pemberley, reluctantly, as he was still quite angry at Darcy for making him stay at Rosings for so long. As Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire waited for his friend and cousin in the parlor after his name had been announced by Darcy's butler, he looked at his wife and sighed.

As Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourne in Hertfordshire listened to her favorite sister extol her beloved's virtues, she sighed. Yes, he was handsome, but not so much as his striking friend. Yes he was kind, but there was such a thing as too trusting. Yes, he had a sweat temperament, but in all honesty? Lizzy preferred someone with passion and heart. The kind of man who look into your eyes and make your very bones melt. The kind of man who was honorable and all that was good but who could make your heart beat so fast and so heard – could make your skin burn with anticipation, who could wrap you in his arms and make you feel things you had never felt before. Passion. Love. Dare she think it – lust. Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourne in Hertfordshire sighed. She wanted him. And she couldn't have him.

'Very well,' she thought to herself. 'If I cannot have him, then I shall have no one. Only the purest love shall persuade me into matrimony. I have always said this. The only difference is that I now know what love really is.

"Oh Lizzy, truly. The only thing that could make me happier would be to see you this happy." Jane told her, gripping her hand and smiling naively as Jane was wont to do. She has no idea what the world really is. It is cruel and wonderful all at once. It is passion and pain mixed together. It is the inability to separate the good from the bad. She had not a clue that her sweet, simple love is no more than that of a puppy next to what I have found and lost all in a single moment.

And that, dear readers, is the moment that Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourne in Hertfordshire realized that she was truly and unmistakably in love.

"You're welcome to come with us Lizzy. Perhaps a bit of fresh air is exactly what our girl needs." Aunt Gardiner offered with a smile. Part of me longed to go. The wedding planning was driving me to insanity. Of course I was happy for my sister, but one whose heart was recently broken could only listen to the joy and gaiety of others for so long before they simply fell over and died. The other part of me, the nervous part, knew that Aunt and Uncle Gardiner were going to the Lake District. Lambton. 5 miles from Fitzwill- Mr. Darcy's home. I couldn't put myself that close again. I would surely give into my desires if I allowed myself to see him again and then I would be ruined, my sister's prospects along with me. Then again, we would simply be a trio of travelers at a local inn. It wasn't as though someone would notify him we were there and my aunt and uncle had never met him so there would be no reason for them to seek him out. We would, in all likeliness, never see the gentleman.

"Are you quite sure, Aunt Gardiner? I would very much love to go but I wouldn't wish to be an imposition."

"Not at all dear girl!" My uncle called out jovially. "Come with us! Get away from the dramatics of young girls in love." I smiled but before I could respond, Kitty and Lydia burst through the door, speaking at a sprint.

"Mama, mama!" Lydia called out. "You'll never believed what happened!"

"No! I get to tell her!" Kitty said, pulling Lydia's braid. "I discovered it. It is my story to tell!"

"You'll just bore her! I'm the one who confronted Mary about it, I get to tell her!"

"That isn't true! I found out all the details, all you did was make Mary turn bright red! That accomplished nothing. It is my story, I get to tell!" Kitty looked very sure that she had won the argument but instead of replying or conceding, my youngest and silliest of sisters simply told the tale.

"Mary has a beau!" she called out. Mary burst into the kitchen.

"Lydia! I asked you not to say anything. I wished to speak to father before you told everyone." She hissed angrily.

"And whatever does your father have to do with it, girl?" My mother asked excitedly. "For I know now for certain he cares not what the future of his family is, the way he is so uninvolved with planning Jane's wedding. For all he cares the lot of us can be thrown out into the hedgerows. You must tell me all at once and I shall fix everything for you!"

"Mama, please. No." Mary begged but before another moment could pass Lydia was busy telling my mother all she knew.

"Mary and Kitty and I walked to Meryton and while Kitty and I were shopping Mary slipped away and once we'd realized she was gone and I simply had to go ask Mrs. Lawson from down the street if she'd happened to see Mary wandering about because Jimmy her son is home from school and he is studying to be a solicitor mama and he is ever so handsome so I thought we could start there and it was a good thing I had thought of that because indeed Mrs. Lawson had seen Mary and told us she had gone into the church and so I sent Kitty off to find her while I had tea with Mrs. Lawson and her dreadfully dull daughter Eloise hoping that Jimmy might come home but unfortunately he and Mr. Lawson were going to be out all afternoon so when I couldn't bear to be in horrid Eloise's presence another moment I excused myself to assist Kitty in finding Mary and I ran off after them and when I found the pair of them Kitty was teasing Mary about the new Parson, mama. Can you believe it? Mary has gone and gotten the new reverend to fall in love with her and he wants to court her! He said so! Kitty heard it! He's ever so handsome and he is the son of a gentleman! The fourth son but does that really matter when one is a reverend of a parish the size of Meryton's? He must make a nice sum, don't you think, mama? Not to mention – he's very, incredibly handsome and I haven't the slightest idea what a man like that would see in our plain little Mary." Mary was bright red now and I rolled my eyes.

"Perhaps that she's kind, and devout, and beautiful to boot." I suggested, earning a small smile of gratitude from Mary.

"La, however silly you are Lizzy!" Lydia responded loudly, rolling her eyes. "How boring is it to be kind and devout and however pretty Mary is she certainly isn't the prettiest Bennet sister, not by a long shot!"

"Say what you will about your sister Lydia, but I don't see you bringing home a respectable beau!" Mama called out hurrying towards the kitchen. "Hill! You must come at once! We must plan a meal, five courses at least! We will have Miss Mary's beau to dinner this week and mark my words he shall offer for her within the month!" My three younger sisters began to bicker endlessly about who saw what and who knew what and who was the prettiest and if being pretty was the best thing a lady could be or not and I began to feel a headache as well as an aching longing for a person who would engage in intelligent conversation with me whilst on long walks. One who would perhaps hold my hand, or brush my hair out of my face, or hold me close, or kiss my neck…no. I simply had a headache and wished for the noise to stop.

"Far away from the dramatics of young girls, Lizzy, my girl." My uncle said quietly in my ear. "Think about it. Come with us."

Her eyes. The sight of them made my heart stop and I had to physically grip my chest for fear I would fall over dead straight away. I was dreaming. Hallucinating, perhaps. But it wasn't possible. She couldn't possibly be here, at Pemberley. She had disappeared as quickly as she had appeared before me, it was very possible I was mistaken. It was very possible I was chasing after a figment of my imagination. Again. I had done it before, seen her where she was not and chase after random women on the street only to find them turn around and have no notion of who I was nor any resemblance to her other than her height, or her hair color, or on one occasion, the curvature of her smile. But it was never her. She was never there.

I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to be in London. But my wife had thrown a fit after I refused her from my bed once again and insisted she be reunited with the children that she did have. (In her most spiteful tone.) We had turned around and were back for no more than half an hour when my Cousin Fitzwilliam was announced. It was minutes later that he had peered in shock over my shoulder and I had turned around and seen her eyes. I had stopped chasing her, for it never truly was her, but those eyes, what were the chances that someone else on this planet had eyes so bewitching, so beautiful, so tempting? It had to be her or some imagining of her in my mind. And I had to find out.

I found her on the terrace and I froze. She had reached a point where the only way out was passed me again. She had closed herself in.

"Miss Elizabeth." My voice was low and longing. Even I could hear the desire that dripped from each word.

"Mr. Darcy." She greeted me, curtsying. Hell. I had forgotten to bow. I did so immediately but once this occupation was fulfilled I had naught to do but stare at her. She looked about, clearly distraught. I longed to pull her into my arms and comfort her. I longed to kiss the sadness off her face. But I knew that the parlor window overlooked the terrace and for all I knew my wife and cousin (not to mention a handful of staff that could be anywhere) might be watching. Her voice lowered as she spoke. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…they said the house was open for visitors and my aunt and uncle both wanted to see it so badly. They said you were out of town that you weren't home. I never would have intruded. Please believe me. I had no intention of your seeing me or bursting into your home. I swear you'll have no trouble from me with your family."

"Lizzy," I said softly. She closed her eyes, finding pleasure in the word. "I have been longing to see your face since the moment it had disappeared before me. She blinked and slowly lifted her gaze to mine. Those eyes. My chest physically hurt for a moment when I saw the sadness within.

"As have I." She whispered. "Perhaps in another reality, Mr. Darcy." She said forlornly. "In this one, however, I shall take my leave." She curtseyed and once again it was all I could do not to reach forward and pull her back, keep her from leaving.

"Miss Elizabeth, wait." Very slowly she turned back towards me, her eyes staring at a point decidedly 6 inches over my head.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy?"

"You are with your aunt and uncle?" I shot out, doing anything I could to prolong the conversation.

"Yes. My aunt is from Lambton, She makes this journey every year and they invited me along this year."

"So you are staying in town then?"

"Yes. At the Rose and Crown."

"Miss Elizabeth-"

"What do you want from me?" She asked, her voice small. "Do you not see how painful this is for me? I hadn't any intent upon seeing you and then my aunt and uncle insist on touring your home and so much of it reflects you perfectly but then there are places in it I think that surely are not to your taste and I am reminded at every turn of your wife. Then I stumble upon not only the man I swore I would never lay eyes on again but the woman who has ruined, perhaps forever my chance at happiness by merely existing. How am I to feel? I am distraught, sir, and I cannot bear this torment another moment. If I may, I will take my leave now."

"I wish to see you again." I begged. "My torment is the same but I cannot live knowing I shall never see you again."

"In what way would you contrive a meeting that would not harm my reputation, sir? It is all I have left. If I am to be allowed to stay at home and care for my sister's children, I must at the very least have my reputation."

"I never took you for the type to stay at home and care for the children of another. You seem much more the adventurer than that."

"I shall never marry. It is the only other option for me, sir. Now I beg you to allow me to take my leave."

"If I find a way. If I find a way to see you without harming your reputation would you see me?" I asked as I bowed over her hand.

"How on earth am I to refuse you anything, Fitzwilliam?" she breathed out. Tears were filling my eyes as she curtseyed in response and scurried off to find her aunt and uncle who were surely still on the grounds somewhere. I slowly returned to my house, finding myself in a private room. I picked up the nearest trinket and threw it at the wall with such force it shattered. Four more such casualties occurred before I could calm myself enough to face the world.

"Fitzwilliam, darling." The words were hallow and taunting coming from my wife. "What on earth made you run off like that? Who was that girl?" There was no accusation in her voice. If I knew her, that was likely because she cared not for my affection, only wishing for another child. She very likely couldn't care a whit if I was unfaithful. Not that I would ever be unfaithful. I was a Darcy, a man of honor. We did not do such things. Besides, I would not put my darling Lizzy in such a position, she deserved more than to be a man's dirty secret.

"That was Miss Elizabeth Bennet." I said, deciding something close to the truth would be best. A seed of an idea began sprouting in my head as I took in Georgie's expression at the name. (Though I didn't understand why, she looked profoundly curious and was now staring at me intently."

"Miss Elizabeth?" Col. Fitzwilliam asked excitedly. "My God, Darcy. Why didn't you say? I would have come to great her as well!"

"She is a friend. I made her acquaintance when I visited Bingley in Hertfordshire. Her father is a gentleman who is settled on an estate bordering Bingley's." I took a breath. "Indeed, Fitzwilliam and I met her again in Kent when we last went to see Aunt Katherine over Easter."

"Far longer than over Easter, dear." My wife said. "You were gone months."

"My aunt is very demanding." I replied. "Consider yourself lucky you were unable to make the trip this year." Felicity smiled softly but I found myself unable to return her happy expression.

"Her cousin and her best friend had been recently married and she was visiting them."

"And now she has run into you yet again! How fortuitous!"

"She is with her aunt and uncle. Her aunt grew up in Lambton and they make the trip every year."

"You seem to be a very attentive friend."

"I just recalled a question I had for her. I will be standing up for Bingley at his wedding, to her sister. Did I say? Her eldest sister is to marry Mr. Bingley. It is why we became friends. We both acted as chaperones for the couple as they courted and as a result were very much in each other's company."

"That does account for it then. You do not often make such friends wherever you go." My wife said. There was no malice in her words, only the truth. She did know me quite well after all.

"Indeed. I had a question regarding the church within which my friend shall be married. It is trifling. I have had an idea that she may be a good friend to Georgiana. Perhaps you might invite her and her family to dinner tonight, dear." I suggested to my wife, my tone making it very clear that this was not a simple suggestion. "I am certain you and Georgiana will find her company most stimulating."

"And I must admit, I am eager to see her again. While there is no Lady Catherine around for her to spar with, I am sure she will entertaining in any case." Fitzwilliam said. "You two should have seen it." He said, grinning at my wife and sister. "Aunt Catherine tried to put her in her place, as she does, and Miss Elizabeth rose to every challenge and held her own. Once, she even pointed out a logical fallacy within Aunt Catherine's words that made it seem as though the old girl had just gone and insulted herself!" He went on (rightly) extoling her virtues but I couldn't focus on their reactions. All I could think of now was the pain in those very fine eyes. I had caused it. And I would fix it. She would have everything; she would want for nothing. I would be sure of it. For all that I could give her, she deserved so much more.

"Invited for dinner?" I asked incredulously. "Mrs. Darcy has invited us for dinner?" It physically hurt my chest to say the words 'Mrs. Darcy' but there was no way around it.

"Yes. Mr. Darcy and his cousin thought you might be a good acquaintance for Mr. Darcy's sister, Miss Darcy to have and, Mrs. Darcy has submitted to their good judgement and wishes to have us all for dinner this evening." My heart was pounding furiously in my chest. He had done it. He had found a way to see me again without a single breach in propriety. I hadn't thought it possible. I couldn't tell if I was ecstatic or in abject terror – perhaps it was both. I would see him again. I would look upon the face of the man I loved and I would be able to speak with him, to hear his voice, to know his thoughts, to investigate deeper into his fine mind that made my heart sing. And I would speak with her. His wife. I would be civil and distant from her husband because they were married and I loved him. I would have to. There was no alternative. I would be kind to Miss Darcy (Lord knew she needed a friend, shy as she was. Not to mention the insecurities that led her to cease her playing of her favorite instrument, she needed a friend and I would not allow the tumultuous feelings I had surrounding her brother keep her from one.) and I would need to be gracious to Mrs. Darcy. A woman of such standing, condescending to asking a lowly country gentleman's daughter and her relations in trade to dinner was, though not in the least something to gossip about, certainly not an everyday occurrence.

It would be torture.

But so would staying away from him.

Dressed in my best gown, I sat in my Uncle's carriage as it bounced down the road towards Pemberley. Pemberley. It was perfection. The gardens and trails were manicured well but not overly stylish. That is not to say they were not stunning, but rather point out the fact that classic beauty won out over stylish trends. The house was decorated in a manner most unbefitting Fitzwilliam, but there were rooms we ventured in that took my breath away they were so filled with him. The art gallery, his study and the library, these were places the Lady of the House clearly had no interest in and as a result, did not care how he furnished them. They were thrilling, precisely how I would have liked to keep them had I – No. No Lizzy. You are not his wife. You will never be his wife. He is married. You shall not be the Mistress of Pemberley.

The carriage reached a halt and my uncle leapt out in order to be able to hand us down from the carriage. My aunt stepped out first and as I moved to exit I took the hand that was offered to me to assist me down. I froze in shock when I felt it. A spark plunged up my arm at the touch and I noticed a moment later that the skin was softer, younger than my uncles, the nails better manicured, and the man attached to it…Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Elizabeth." He greeted, bowing. "I am so pleased you and your family could join us for dinner. I am very eager to introduce you to my sister."

"I thank Mrs. Darcy for the invite. It was incredibly kind of her to condescend to invite relations she didn't yet have." Fitzwilliam ignored my statement and continued on.

"Your uncle seems to have his hands full with your aunt." He suggested at the pair who seemed nothing of the sort. "Perhaps you would allow me to escort you in." He held out his arm and I slowly shifted my hand from his (he still hadn't let go!) and into his arm.

"I thank you, Mr. Darcy. You are too kind."

"Not at all. Your family was very kind to me in Hertfordshire. It seems only fitting I repay the favor. And of course if I should have the additional benefit of your charming company, Miss Elizabeth, well then who could fault me?" We began walking and my aunt and uncle, in their impatience to see the grand house again walked a little more quickly, soon leaving us out of hearing range.

"You came." He said softly and full of warmth.

"I couldn't decide at first, which would be worse. The torment of this evening, or the torment of not seeing you as soon as possible." He sighed.

"I understand you precisely, Lizzy."

"Mr. Darcy, I am not entirely certain that you do. I shall have to spend the entire evening referring to your wife as Mrs. Darcy. I shall have to honor and defer to her, a woman I have no argument with save for the fact that she married the man I love before I had even met him. You are a man. You could have an affair, take a mistress, fall in love, each with someone other than your wife and society would brush it off because of your sex and your finances. If anyone even suggested that I'd fallen in love with a married man, no matter how much proof there was that nothing untoward had occurred – and you and I both know no such evidence exists – I would be shamed, shunned, my sisters would have no hope of making good, respectable marriages. You may feel as you choose, all the while going home to your wife and the children she's bore you while I must suffer in agony on my own, not even able to confide in my own sister about the struggles I am facing. I am not entirely certain that you understand me at all." I stepped forward and relinquished my hold on his arm. But he was too quick. He caught my fingers in his held on to me.

"If you mean to suggest that my torment, my agony at the knowledge that I have forever destroyed my own happiness because I allowed another to convince me to marry too early is somehow lessoned by what society will think of me, by the fact that I must look at my wife, knowing she should be you, at my children, resenting them because they should be yours, think again, madam. I have thought of little else than you and I have become an empty shell of a man knowing that I cannot have you. That you will never be mine, and I never yours."

"Lizzy?" My aunt's voice rang out allowing me moments to step into a more appropriate position before she stepped back around the corner, wondering where I'd gone off to. I hadn't noticed how close Fitzwilliam and I had become, our faces so close, another step forward and I would have felt his lips on mine. I shivered at the thought and listened as Fitzwilliam explained our delay.

"Forgive me, whence last we spoke, Miss Elizabeth mentioned her penchant for this particular artist, and I thought she would enjoy seeing one of his paintings first hand." He spoke quickly, gesturing to a piece on the wall. I looked at the painting in question and started.

"François Gérard?" I asked, almost shocked.

"The Baron was a friend of my mothers, he painted her shortly before her death." He said, gesturing to the painting. It is not one of his official pieces, of course, but you can clearly see his style in the brushwork." I smiled, in awe.

"Astounding." I nodded.

"Well don't tarry too long, Lizzy. Your Hostess is waiting to meet you." I could feel Fitzwilliam stiffen beside me and I knew I had done the same. I had to meet her. Mrs. Darcy.

She was charming. And beautiful. And superficial. And cared not a whit for poetry or philosophy, or even novels. In fact, she didn't like to read. (Too "taxing on the eyes" she had claimed.) She spent all of a quarter hour instructing Miss Darcy on how best to display her accomplishments to guests so that both men would be attentive to her and women envy her. This was demonstrated in the following dialogue.

"You see, Miss Darcy," (As far as I could tell, despite the marriage to her brother for more than five years, Miss Darcy had yet to give Mrs. Darcy leave to call her by her Christian name much to my rather un-Christian amusement.) "You mustn't display your primary talents first. Then when you move on, you give the impression that it is all, as they say, downhill from there. You must show your secondary and tertiary talents in the beginning, and then move on to those things you are more apt at. This gives the impression that, not only are you good a great many things, but that you are also humble and don't wish to show off too much. For example, Miss Darcy, I would begin by demonstrating my skills in art, showing some of my drawings, a chair I had designed, some cushions I had embroidered, and then I would move on to demonstrate my prima artem, and play a song on the piano. You, on the other hand, should begin by showing your embroidery and designs and then go on to demonstrate your incredible talent of sketching." Miss Darcy blushed and I couldn't help myself. I found my lips moving in speech before I had even thought of what I was saying.

"I have heard from your brother and cousin that you are a very accomplished woman indeed, Miss Darcy." She thanked me politely and I continued. "In fact, I was led to believe that your prima artem so to speak, was your delightful performance at the pianoforte. You must tell me," I asked warmly, teasing her. "Am I to call your guardians liars or have they spoken rightly of your musical abilities?"

"They are certainly most kind in their attentions and praise." Miss Darcy said, blushing. "But they accredit me too far. I used to play the pianoforte, but I haven't the ear for music Mrs. Darcy does. I find I prefer to listen to her than I do to play. Luckily for me she is gracious in accommodating my wishes in that department." Lies. All of it. I could tell that behind her mask of composure lay a girl, seething, wishing to touch the ivory keys again, but for some reason, unable.

"I understand you completely, Miss Darcy. I find that I too, struggle with playing and would much prefer the sound of others to that of my own. However I find such enjoyment in playing that I often sacrifice the joy of my ears for that of my fingers and play anyway. Perhaps one day Mrs. Darcy will not be able or wishing to perform and you shall play for the sincere enjoyment of the music and the knowledge that it was you who made it." The slight annoyance in Mrs. Darcy's eyes made it clear I had gone too far.

"If I may excuse myself." I said, rising to my feet and curtseying. I leaned to Miss Darcy. "Could you point me in the direction of a lavatory?" she smiled and gave me directions. I excused myself from the room and walked in the direction which she pointed. It wasn't too long before my journey was interrupted by a hand, which grasped my arm and pulled me into a room.

"Mr. Darcy?" I whispered, seeing his face.

"We're alone." He said simply, staring into my eyes as I was folded into his embrace.

"Fitzwilliam," I breathed. He moaned softly and leaned in, capturing my lips in his. I was more prepared this time. The last time I had kissed him I hadn't the slightest notion of what to do, but this time, my emotions heightened and my feelings for him having risen even further, I found that my body knew what to do without direction from me. His lips sucked ferociously on my lower lip and his fingers were gripping my hips so tightly I thought I may have bruises tomorrow. My hands found the lapels of his jacket and pulled him in impossibly close to me, I moaned in pleasure around his kiss and I felt him freeze. It was only for a second or two but when the pause was over and he was moving again, his ardor was increased tenfold. His lips now found my collar, and began sucking keenly. My skin was hot, I was sweating, I buzzed with excitement and my hands trembled as they clung to any and every part of him that I could reach. His hands snuck lower and lower until he was holding onto the curve of my rear, gripping me tightly in a way that made my stomach clench in happiness. His lips had slid lower, pulling my neckline down as he explored my chest. I had never been touched there. Not by anyone. We shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be letting him hold me there or kiss my breast but how could I tell him to stop when it felt like that?!

"Fitzwilliam," I breathed again. His face was buried in my now, mostly exposed chest as he licked and sucked and on occasion nipped at the skin there. His hands rubbed and squeezed my behind – a place I had never considered when thinking on what a man and a woman might do together…in private…but now that I felt what a simple touch there might do, I didn't know how I had missed it before. A place just below my stomach was roaring in approval at his ministrations and I began to feel something wet pooling between my legs. I was about to protest, to say we had gone too far, when he moaned my name into my chest.

"Lizzy." His word was part sigh of relief, part growl and I could feel my heartbeat stutter in my chest.

"More." I begged, abandoning all sense. His hand cradled my head as he slammed me into a wall, pressing me between the hard surface and his warm body. He brought his lips back to mine and furiously kissed me, not sparing a moment for breathing. That was all right with me. Who needed air when they had him holding them in his arms? He softly bit my upper lip and instinctually I thrust my hips into his. I was surprised to feel something hart protruding from his pelvis. I knew, logically, what it was. My father had allowed me full rein in his library which meant I had access to some literature that for most young ladies, was banned. I knew that when aroused, a man's penis became stiff. But knowing it and feeling it are two quite different things. I reached around with my hand and cupped the member through his pants, curiously. He groaned and gripped my wrist, pulling me back.

"Lizzy. We can't...I won't ruin you. I shouldn't have…we shouldn't be…" I nodded.

"I know. This is a horrible idea, Fitzwilliam."

"I'm so sorry. You must know, I would never dishonor you in any way or-"

"Fitzwilliam. Did it seem like I was trying to stop you?" He closed his eyes and shook his head quickly, as though physically shaking the thoughts from his head.

"I cannot be in this state when I return to the gentlemen." He said, returning to the tone he used when he was being utterly logical and proper. They will know that I am aroused and…I will have to take care of this." He gestured slightly down to the thing I had felt between his legs. Now that he had stepped back I could see how obvious it was through his trousers. Curiosity (and lustful thinking that I certainly shouldn't have as a lady…) filled me and I couldn't help but ask.

"How exactly does one, take care of a problem like that?" I asked slowly, maintaining eye contact. My mouth was so dry, I licked my lips and his hand began to shake.

"Would you like to see?" he asked, his voice low. I shivered at the tone and glanced to the tent made from his trousers. I nodded slowly.

"Very much." He reached into his waistband and gripped at his manhood. He did not undo his trousers and the exact motions and nuances of what he was doing were hidden from site, but the general idea was obvious. Slowly at first, but quicker and quicker he began to stroke himself. He stared at me the entire time, his eyes wide and wild with an emotion I couldn't quite name. His hips began to rock along with his hand movements and he began to grunt softly. I was burning up. I could feel the flush all over my skin and my legs, clamped together in an attempt to stop the gush of fluids that was coming from my privates. What was that?! I would have to investigate later but for now, I simply squeezed my thighs together and held my hand back to keep from touching myself there. (Where that desire came from I didn't know, but I was suddenly very compelled to reach down between my legs and…)

"Lizzy." He moaned quietly. He was pumping his hand incredibly quickly now, his other hand gripping a table to his left so tightly his knuckles were white. He stared at me. As I had said. I had read a few banned books. I knew this wasn't it. I knew that a man would reach a point where he would spill his seed and then it was over. The thought of his seed, the very thing that could create a child within me, were he himself to be pumping his member, not in his hand but inside of me… I couldn't help it. I moaned recklessly at the thought and licked my lips, searching for a hint of his taste, still clinging to my skin.

My sounds were enough to send him over and Fitzwilliam finished in his hand, panting and staring at me as though I had just hung the moon in the sky. We made no sound but I stepped forward and kissed his lips softly before stepping back into the hall and making my way to the parlor making up some excuse about getting lost in my head, all the while my heart beating so heavily I could have sworn I heard it echoing off the walls as my feet attempted to learn how to walk again, my legs heavy and woozy. I needed more. I needed…God but I didn't know. All I knew was that I was completely in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy. And I wanted him. I wanted to be his. I wanted to see him climax like that, hovering over me, deep inside of me. I wanted him to ruin me.

Author's Note: So as you can see...we're moving into smut territory. While this isn't going to be PWP (porn without plot for those of you not psychotically involved in fandom/fanfiction worlds) there are definitely going to be A LOT of lemons and smutty mcgoodness;) I am working on a few things and I have the plot sketched out. The smut part on the other hand...that's the sort of thing I like to create when I'm...in the mood. I also really like to make my readers happy so if there is something you want to see them do or anything like that, review or PM me and give me some good ideas! If they fit with the story I am more than happy to include them! I want to know what you think! Please review!