AN: Thank you for reading - and virtual chocolates go to those who have reviewed. I am posting chapters as soon as they have been proofread by, well, yours truly, so any mistakes are mine. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 2

It had been three months since she had last seen him; three months since they'd had that horrible argument at Rosings. She had been self-righteous, confident in her accusations and rude in her attack of his character; and he had taken it like a man, with dignity and grace even as she was scornful.

Charlotte Lucas, her closest childhood friend, had recently become engaged to Bill Collins, and had moved into his home on Hunsford Lane, a stone's throw away from Rosings Park, one of England's historic stately homes. It was also the residence of Bill's wealthy employer – the old widow Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Lizzy's visit had been planned around Bill's overseas business trip, a trip that would take him away for a month. Because of this, she had expected her stay to be a pleasant one catching up with Charlotte, having not seen her for four months. The allure of Rosings' various gardens and parks also called to Lizzy. Charlotte was a fellow horticulturalist and from her emails it was obvious that certain parts of Rosings served as a haven for rare plant species.

Fate, however, had other plans. She and Charlotte had gone to the corner store upon her arrival for a few essentials when they made a few discoveries. Standing next to the fruit display was none other than William Darcy. Charlotte had waved excitedly at the man, for her, finding him there a pleasant surprise; and Lizzy had merely managed a weak smile, hoping that their accidental encounter would be very brief.

Finding out that he was also vacationing in the area was another revelation, and when he told them that he was staying at Rosings Park with his Aunt Catherine – Lizzy had almost laughed out loud in perverse delight at her situation. Realizing that William Darcy was Catherine de Bourgh's nephew was the only unsurprising part of Lizzy's afternoon. Both were similarly proud and haughty – surely the trait must run in the family.

The schedule she had intended to keep while staying with Charlotte – the schedule she had so carefully prepared before leaving Longbourn – was collapsing before her very eyes. Her friend, no doubt in sore need of new company, had conveniently forgotten Lizzy's dislike for William and was excitedly making plans for get-togethers at her house. When the strikingly-attractive young man who approached them introduced himself as "Richard, Will's much more handsome cousin", all the while flashing her and Charlotte bright, easy smiles, Lizzy found herself warming to the idea of being in the Darcy cousins' company.

A Royal marine stationed on the east coast of Scotland; Richard had been given a few weeks' leave, and he had chosen to join his cousin in visiting their aunt for two of those. His easy, accommodating manner more than made up for William's taciturn behaviour, and Lizzy was grateful for his company.

The area Rosings Park was situated in was a beautiful locale, and on days when Charlotte had work to take care of she used up her afternoons logging in time at the greenhouse and the gardens, then reading her new paperback as she sat under the large willow tree by the stream. The first time William happened upon her there, his own book in hand, she had been honestly surprised; and he simply acknowledged she had discovered his favorite reading corner. Taking his words to mean as dismissal, she had stood up, ready to leave, and he had stopped her, insisting that there was more than enough room for both of them. His graciousness had been unexpected, and she sat back down speechless. Before long she was immersed in her novel; his presence quickly fading into the background.

They spent a few afternoons in this manner, reading quietly till the sun had set; on occasion with a small bag of fresh peaches placed between them – apparently his favorite summer fruit. When it was too dark to read, he would walk her back to Charlotte's house before making his way back to his aunt's estate. His company – though prevalently silent – had been more than just bearable, and during these walks she discovered that he, having overcome his timidity, was actually a remarkable conversationalist. Her opinion of him was slowly improving; and she was beginning to think William Darcy was not so terrible after all.

One afternoon, on her way to what she'd begun to consider "their spot by the brook", she ran into Richard, who charmed her into joining him for a quick run to the nearby grocery store. William had immediately come to mind, and she chided herself for her foolishness, not wanting to dwell on the fact she, who thought him contemptible – had started to look forward to seeing him. Without another thought she got into Richard's car, his easy laughter ringing in her ears.

It was in the course of this short trip that her newfound opinions of William were crushed. Not only was he responsible for George Wickham's misfortune, but it seemed that he was also to blame for her sister's recent heartbreak. Richard's innocent ramblings about how his praiseworthy cousin had bailed out Charles, his best friend, from a "big mistake" involving an inappropriate woman from the country had had Lizzy seeing red even before he finished recounting the story. That 'inappropriate woman' was her beloved sister Jane.

Richard had no idea how his casual remark had affected her, for she had kept her face impassive on the drive back to Charlotte's house. Once the car had stopped, she got out and made her apologies, complaining of a headache in order to avoid further conversation. He accepted her excuse, and she was grateful it had been that simple; she did not know how long she could have kept her temper at bay in his company. Lizzy could not fault him for the comment, callous as it was, because she knew it had not been his own words or observation. She could not really kill the messenger, she thought wryly, but she was glad he had brought things to light.

To think that she had begun to think better of him.

It only proved her early opinions of William's character correct. Lizzy felt a slight sense of relief that she had not let his newfound sociability in her company encourage her change of heart too greatly. How could anyone do something so horrible to Jane, who was all sweetness and goodness to everyone, who never had an unkind thought for anyone – and unfeelingly subject her to malice?

It was clear to Lizzy that only someone who thought very highly of himself, someone used to giving orders and getting his own way, someone who was used to taking things that should belong to others, someone who, being so wealthy and respected in high society, was used to being in power… very easily could. Someone exactly like William Darcy.

Lizzy went up to her room and stayed there for the rest of the day, hoping to let her anger dissipate before Charlotte got home from work. When Charlotte arrived bearing a dinner invitation from the Darcy cousins, Lizzy again feigned a headache and asked to stay behind, knowing full well she would not be able to stand being in William's company – keeping her feelings in rein. Charlotte left, giving her orders to call if her headache worsened; and she had resigned herself to a quiet night on her own. Her plans were forestalled when William burst into the living room, not ten minutes later, asking after her health.

"I came to see if you were alright. Charlotte told us you had a headache and Richard mentioned you weren't feeling very well when you were with him earlier today."

Still in a bit of shock at his sudden appearance, Lizzy had carefully closed her book and placed it on the coffee table, remaining seated on the couch as she fixed him with a hard stare. "And what should it matter to you?"

He had looked back at her, an expression of slight confusion on his face. "I… was concerned. I thought you might have come down with something and had to see for myself, if there was anything I could do… "

Lizzy felt her anger simmer beneath her still calm exterior. "Don't really trust anyone much, do you?"

"Sorry?" William looked puzzled at her question, his brow furrowing as he watched her move from the sofa to the adjacent kitchen. She grabbed a mug and briefly entertained throwing it at his head, before picking up the kettle to pour in some hot tea.

"Thought I might've made the excuse up to escape your dinner invitation? Well, I did. I'm not sick," she turned to face him smugly, raising her left eyebrow in challenge. "That's probably never happened to you, has it, someone declining an invitation from the remarkable Mr. Darcy."

"No, no, I was just honestly concerned. I was at the stream today, and I… admit that... you were in my thoughts while I was there. I've done nothing but think of you since I arrived at Rosings really, or even since first meeting you in Hertfordshire."

His words had stunned her speechless, and for a moment Lizzy faltered, shaking her head and staring into the mug she had placed on the counter.

"This visit to my aunt was planned for a later date, but when she mentioned that Charlotte Lucas was expecting a visitor from Hertfordshire – you – I rearranged my schedule to be here the same time you were. Since seeing you again I've realized that my feelings have only grown stronger… so much significantly that I ask you to listen to what I have to say."

Lizzy felt her color rise as she listened to his words. Bits and pieces of his speech registered briefly, but her mind chose to ignore the words he used to describe his admiration for her; dwelling instead on his passing remarks about how his affection for her had made him willing to overlook her family's embarrassing behavior in public.

Her voice was small and soft when she spoke. "I guess I should be thankful that your… feelings for me have all but absolved your opinion of my family."

He stared at her blankly, remaining silent as she took a step towards him and continued to speak.

"If you assume that your… declaration of love is going to make me forget what you said about my family – you're wrong. I can't believe your audacity! Did you actually think I would be flattered by your pretty words and then fall into your arms eagerly, knowing what I do about you?"

William remained still, a shell-shocked expression on his face. "What about me?"

"I know you separated Charles from Jane." Lizzy saw him swallow nervously, and her resentment grew. "So you admit it."

"Yes," he said. "It was obvious that he felt more than she did; and I acted the way I thought best to save him from looking a fool. Charles is younger than I; he doesn't know yet how hurtful and malicious some people can be. I didn't want to subject him to unnecessary gossip."

A short, bitter laugh escaped from Lizzy's lips. "Do you like making decisions for your friends, thinking them incapable of good sense? Did it ever occur to you that both Charles and Jane are two fully-grown adults, without doubt qualified to run their own lives? You like controlling people; that I've figured out—"

William's tone turned indignant. "You mistake my actions—"

"You've been doing that your whole life! You even put your childhood friend through this… treatment!" Lizzy exclaimed with disgust.

By this time he had turned a deep shade of red. "You mean George Wickham," he spat, the expression on his face turning thunderous.

"Talk about being completely unfair. You denied him what would have been the launching of his career. You ruined all his hopes of a bright future as an artist, leaving him to struggle with his finances… leaving him to resort to offering his services to small-time art centers," Lizzy continued her tirade, moving til she was almost toe-to-toe with him. "How could you?"

"Be careful what you say, Elizabeth, especially when you talk of things you have no clear understanding of," he warned, his voice steely.

"You say that with conviction but offer no other explanation. If anything your words have only proven you the most arrogant, selfish, manipulative man I have ever met!" Lizzy stared at William's face, hovering inches above hers, watching as the color drained out of his face, as his angry expression changed to one of hurt. His eyebrows turned down over his sad, wounded eyes, and her gaze flew to his lips, remaining there as they parted slightly. His lips were so close to hers, and through her daze came a brief recognition of how they suddenly seemed fascinating – even in her fierce anger. The realization confused her.

"Forgive me," he said, holding her now puzzled gaze, "I hope you feel better," he finished, turning on his heel and leaving the house. She was half-expecting him to slam the door as he left; but he left quietly, keeping his eyes to the floor as he closed it.

She'd never expected to see him again, not after such a quarrel, but she had been mistaken.

The next morning – the day she was to leave for home, she rose from a restless sleep at dawn and took one last walk to the brook near Charlotte's new residence, pondering the previous day's events.

The sun was rising when she reached the willow tree and she saw William there, looking rumpled in the morning light. She had not wished to encounter him after such an argument, so she had begun to turn around when he called out her name.

The formality in his voice contradicted his expression, and though the letter he had handed her was not something she wished to accept, she nonetheless took it; and her natural curiosity allowed that she read it on the train ride back to Hertfordshire. And there it began: the collapse of all she had believed regarding his character, and George Wickham's. William had, after all she had said to him, entrusted her with details of his sister's sad history with the man who had fooled them all with his smiles and excessive sociability. The matter of Charles leaving Hertfordshire so abruptly without even a proper farewell – or explanation – to Jane, nor the absence of communication that followed his departure was one thing he would not apologize for; claiming he had merely been making sure his vulnerable friend would not suffer unnecessary heartache. He closed the letter with assurances he would not trouble her any longer, nor hear from him at all; it would be like nothing had ever happened.

Lizzy had clutched the letter to her chest, shame burning in her body. Everything he'd said about her family was painfully true, and she realized she had always known and accepted it; it had just been hard to hear it coming from him – someone she'd disliked from the beginning of their acquaintance.

He never wished to see her again, that was clear enough; and a small part of her wounded pride was thankful that she would not have to face him again. But Lydia's situation changed everything, and after learning of his actions, her conscience could no longer bear it. To have done what he had when he must absolutely detest her – showed he was a man of high morals, and she admired him for that.

During moments of quiet she remembered more pleasant things from that unpleasant day… how he had, for a few moments lost all formality and looked utterly vulnerable… his halting speech of long admiration of her spirit… his admittance of an unexplainable enthrallment with her… culminating in a declaration of his complete attachment.

"I've never felt this way about anyone… "

"For the first time in my life I'm giving in to my desires, my needs, my wishes – regardless of what other people may say… "

"I've fallen in love with you. Completely… in love with you."

No man had ever expressed himself so clearly to her, and so improperly at the same time. Harsh judgments aside it would have been the perfect avowal of love. And yet, she thought, she would not have had it any other way. Had that day's events not unfolded as they had she would never have known his true character, or hers for that matter. It seems she had matured considerably in the last two months. Lizzy stopped her pacing and looked at her watch again. Eight minutes. She was going to turn into a nervous wreck if he didn't arrive soon. She stood up and stared out the window, hardly seeing the city below.