AN: I corrected a couple of mild errors in 2 and changed the wording of Elizabeth's morning activities to more accurately reflect what I had in mind for them. I envisioned Elizabeth either taking breakfast "on the go" or quickly bolting down something in the kitchen rather than actively sitting down at the servants' table and trying to make awkward small talk with them.


Fitzwilliam Darcy was grateful that the rain had lessened to a soft pitter-patter, but he still would have volunteered to ride to Longbourn even in a deluge. While he had been willing to accept Miss Bingley's stated excuse of keeping the rest of the Bennets away from Netherfield for the evening and night, the honest truth was that he had needed to escape his own reactions to Elizabeth Bennet.

Long gone were the days when he had been able to dismiss her as simply tolerable and not handsome enough; in fact, she tempted Darcy with frightening regularity. If Miss Elizabeth were, for some reason, worried about the presence of something untoward in Netherfield, then Darcy was worried about the presence of untoward thoughts in his own mind.

Miss Bingley had believed Elizabeth's appearance to be scandalous and appalling, but Darcy had found them quite the opposite. He had been unable to tear his eyes away from the tantalizing sight of her wet dress embracing her intimately, highlighting her light and pleasing figure with ruthless efficiency. And her eyes...her fine eyes…When she had faced them all down with the strength of her convictions, her eyes had not merely glowed as they often did after she had made yet another pert remark or witty observation. No, her eyes had burned with an intensity that warmed him even now as a bare memory.

He spurred his horse on, thankful that the foul weather had kept the citizens of Meryton in their abodes and off the roads. He was also grateful that he had this opportunity to remind himself of the myriad reasons against entertaining any thoughts of an alliance with Eliz—Miss Elizabeth. One of the main reasons, he knew, would soon be in front of him as he told the Bennets of Jane's accident and Eliz—Miss Elizabeth's sudden appearance at Netherfield.

Darcy knew the Bennets well enough to agree with Miss Bingley's prognostications about Mrs. Bennet. The young ones might at least display some proper emotions for a few moments before making inappropriate comments and giggling wildly. Miss Mary would probably make a pious but empty remark about Providence or the frailty of life. Mr. Bennet...he would likely hide his concern behind a joke or a witticism—not unlike Elizabeth, to be honest.

Her family connections are unsuitable, he thought, mentally reciting his mantra once again. Her family itself is unsuitable. Her dowry is unsuitable. Her beliefs about Netherfield are unsuitable. Her impertinence is unsuitable. Her defiance is unsuitable. She is…

The image of her standing up to all of them in her bedraggled, sodden dress with her fiery fine eyes blazing assaulted him again. Other memories of her laughing at a joke, smiling indulgently at someone else's foible, or raising an eyebrow as she ran verbal circles around the latest fool to underestimate her crossed his mind. Logic and reason faded into oblivion, leaving only Elizabeth's flashing eyes.

She is the handsomest woman of my acquaintance, he admitted to himself as Longbourn came into view. If only she had acceptable connections and a fortune, I would fear myself to be in danger.

Darcy dismounted and handed the reins to a waiting stable boy, striding towards the door with all the confidence born of years of being the master of Pemberley. As the housekeeper led him to Mr. Bennet's library, he wondered if Providence might smile on him and spare him the effusions of the Bennet women. The loud, strident wails of Mrs. Bennet reached his ears, however, depriving him of that futile hope.

"Good evening, Mr. Darcy," Mr. Bennet said with deceptive good cheer that could not quite mask the anxiety in his bearing. "I suppose that you have come to explain to me and young Tom here why two of my horses recently arrived home without two riders—and why not one but two of my daughters are missing."

Years of training and experience kept Mr. Darcy from squirming outwardly as he was inwardly. He maintained his aloof mask and delivered the news with rational equanimity. Mr. Bennet also bore the news as well as could be expected, paling considerably and bidding Darcy to continue. His narrative of Miss Elizabeth's arrival produced a variety of intriguing emotions to play across Mr. Bennet's face, amusement and consternation being the primary ones. Darcy could not blame the man since Elizabeth frequently caused the same emotions to form within himself.

Not exactly the same emotions, a knowing voice taunted in his mind.

Darcy shoved such useless thoughts away and focused on the two men in the room. He had ignored Tom at first since the lad was merely a stable boy, but he noted that the young man looked more nervous than someone who had simply reported the return of a couple of horses to his master. Noticing Darcy's scrutiny, the young man stuck out his jaw slightly and looked Darcy in the eye in a motion reminiscent of Eliz—Miss Elizabeth.

"Do you have something to say for yourself, Tom?" Darcy asked firmly but politely.

"Tom was just about to confess to saddling my gelding for my most stubborn daughter, is that not so?"

"Beggin' yer pardon, Master," Tom said, looking less sure of himself, "but I know y' know who my muther were. I know you know how she...went. I know y' know how much she loved yer daughter—since they looked so alike an' all. I saddled Miss Bennet's horse on Mrs. Bennet's orders, but I knew...we all knew...Me an' the lads….We were afeared that Miss Bennet would come to harm, and that Miss Elizabeth would go to 'er, help or no, and we...that is, I wanted t' give 'er the safest, fastest way of gettin' where she needed t' go."

Mr. Bennet stared at Tom for a few moments before waving his hand dismissively.

"That was quite a speech, Tom, but we have more important matters to attend to, do we not? I believe there are some wet, exhausted horses in need of care—and some gossip in need of spreading. Perhaps you should get to it."

Tom bobbed his head up and down and promised to tell the rest of the servants about Miss Bennet's misfortunes and Miss Elizabeth's location so the master would not have to worry about doing so.

"Yes, thank you, Tom," Mr. Bennet replied, waving his hand again. "Now off with you—unless you want to accompany Mr. Darcy and I while we inform my wife and daughters of the details. I am certain that Mrs. Bennet would love to have your contribution as well."

Darcy was torn between disgust at Mr. Bennet's lack of respect and care for his wife and amusement at the level of paleness that young Tom's face achieved. He stammered a polite refusal that was almost coherent as he rushed out the door with repeated assurances of good work and diligence.

"Shall we, Mr. Darcy? The drawing room awaits."

"Mr. Bennet, are you certain that you want me to be present for what will surely be a trying conversation for your family even without my attendance? Would your wife not benefit from being told the particulars of Miss Bennet's accident with delicacy?"

Mr. Bennet gave Darcy a wry grin and a knowing look.

"Come, come, Mr. Darcy," he said, bowing and gesturing extravagantly at the now-open door. "Surely a great man such as yourself is not scared of a roomful of admittedly silly girls."

Darcy was highly affronted and was unable to prevent a fierce scowl from marring his face.

"I assure you, Sir, that I thought only of the well-being of your family in this time of grief and worry. I also thought to return to Netherfield as quickly as possible in order to be of assistance should the need arise."

"Ah, yes," Mr. Bennet said, still grinning impudently, "Netherfield. I am all amazement that you managed to tear yourself away from such pressing duties. Pray, Mr. Darcy, tell me how you managed to do so."

"While Mr. Bingley may be an impulsive man, he can be quite serious when necessary and can be trusted to oversee Netherfield's affairs without me. Miss Bingley is also capable of running a household—including caring for a wounded guest and directing the apothecary to Miss Bennet's side once he arrives. Miss Elizabeth is certainly more qualified than anyone to provide constant, attentive care for Miss Bennet."

"I am certain that you shall find my daughter to be tolerable, I suppose," Mr. Bennet said, giving Darcy a knowing look before finally ushering them through the library door.

Darcy's scowl deepened as the import of the maddening man's words washed over him, producing the no-doubt deliberate effect of discomposing him at the beginning of a situation that would likely require all of his wits. He marveled at Mr. Bennet's cavalier attitude towards his family and briefly wondered if Miss Elizabeth had her father's capacity for capricious cruelty.

Mr. Bennet gave Darcy an inappropriately amusing introduction, making his news about Jane's fall from her horse and Miss Elizabeth's sudden appearance at Netherfield all the more shocking to the inhabitants of the drawing room. Mrs. Bennet's effusions were as loud and strident as he had expected them to be, although he could hardly fault her for reacting without poise after receiving terrible news about a beloved daughter. After all, Darcy remembered some of his actions after Georgiana's almost-elopement with a reluctant acknowledgment of culpability. Much of his sympathy fled in the wake of Mrs. Bennet's subsequent remarks, however.

"Oh, what is to become of us, Mr. Bennet?" she wailed, feebly waving her handkerchief in the air. "My dear, sweet Jane will die, and then which one of our daughters will marry well? Certainly not headstrong, foolish Lizzy with her wild ways and stubborn impertinence. Maybe my dearest Lydia can save us all from the hedgerows! After all, she is the prettiest of my girls after Jane, and the liveliest."

"My dear, let us not give way to such gloomy thoughts," Mr. Bennet said in a falsely conciliatory tone. "Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor."

Darcy's arrogant mask grew harder still in the face of such behavior. He brusquely asked the Bennets if they had any questions about Jane's circumstances and, as he had promised Miss Bingley, reiterated that tomorrow would be a better time to call than tonight.

"Will Mr. Bingley make sure that Jane is well, Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Bennet asked with wide eyes. "She has, without exception, the sweetest temper I have ever met with, and I am certain that time passed in Mr. Bingley's company would be just the thing to improve her health."

"All of us will ensure that Miss Bennet receives the best possible care," he said coldly. "I pray you would excuse me, Madam, as I must now return to Netherfield. I bid you all good evening."

He gave a small bow and left the drawing room without a backward glance. Exclamations of his proud, disagreeable nature and his rudeness followed him out, but he cared not. The youngest girls were giggling insipidly, and the middle daughter was moralizing about the evils of thinking oneself to be better than others.

The last words Darcy heard from the drawing room caused his respect for Mr. Bennet to slip even further: "Well, my dear, if your daughter should die from her injuries, it would be a comfort to know that it was all in pursuit of Mr. Bingley, and under your orders."

The housekeeper—Hill, her name appeared to be, given that Mrs. Bennet was yelling it repeatedly—prudently ignored her mistress's distressed calls in order to escort Darcy out. He gave her a more courteous farewell, not being willing to cast aspersions on her character based on the manners of the family she served. The irony of him leaving Longbourn thinking better of the servants than the masters was not lost on him.

Miss Elizabeth's complete and utter unsuitability as anything more than an amusing acquaintance had been made clearer than ever to Darcy, and he spent the duration of the ride to Netherfield mentally repeating his mantra of her numerous flaws. He idly noticed that the closer he drew to Netherfield, the stronger his feelings on the subject became until he had, once again, firmed his resolve to spend as little time with Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her uncouth, disgraceful family as possible.