"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett," Killian said. His eyes met Emma's and she took a chance.

"Killian?" She mouthed.

"Swan." He returned soundlessly. Emma smiled with relief.

"It's quite the crush this evening," Sir William remarked.

"Yes, it's uh…hot in here," Emma said, glancing around for an exit.

"If you're overheated, then you simply must see the gardens," Belle encouraged. "Horticulture is a beloved pastime of mine."

"I'd be happy to escort you, Miss Bennett," Killian offered gallantly.

Emma gave him a smile and at the last minute, remembered her curtsy. When she rose back up, it was obvious Killian was enjoying this entirely too much.

"Stifle it," she said, between her teeth as they made their way through the throng. "Is this scenario your idea? One corseted reality wasn't enough for you?"

"Don't blame me, love. This isn't my doing."

"Belle." Emma rolled her eyes. "Who else would drop us in the middle of 'Pride and Prejudice' but the town librarian."

"We're part of a book, I gather? Is that why we have different names?"

"A romance novel," Emma said, rolling her eyes. "I never read it. I watched the movie once though."

Killian reached out to put a hand to the small of her back and guide her through the crowd, but Emma stepped away. "You can't do that," she said under her breath. "This is Regency England. You shouldn't be touching me like that."

He looked at her askance. "You're serious."

"Yes, I am," she said. "And I should think you'd had your fill after that last scenario."

He gave her a confused look.

"The massage?" she prompted. "By the way, you weren't half-bad. Maybe you could open up a spa when we get back to Storybrooke."

He stopped in his tracks. "That was weeks ago."

She stopped and turned to face him. "That was minutes ago. One second you were talking to me about magic beans and the next thing I know, Belle is leading me up to be introduced to you."

"Emma, I've been here nearly six weeks, just waiting for you to arrive. And before that, I was hit by a harpoon and dragged behind my ship until I drowned."

"Drowned?"

"I'm getting bloody tired of being killed," he remarked, gesturing for her to precede him out the doorway. "When I landed here, the compass eventually led me to your manor house, but you've been away every time I've made an inquiry." He looked around, ascertaining that they were alone, and shuffled her off the path, through a clump of hedges and down toward the stables.

"Let's duck in here," he said. "The footmen and stable boys are all tending to the carriages in the drive. We won't be overheard."

"Good idea," Emma agreed, following him in, picking up her dress to keep it from dragging through the hay. Other than one lone horse that stood in its paddock, there was no one about.

"So once again, time is moving differently for each of us," Killian pointed out. "And that was the first time I've been without you. What about you?"

Emma leaned against the paddock door, tugging at her waistline in the hope of adjusting her corset. "I had a bunch before I first saw you - on a beach watching dolphins, playing basketball with Henry and Archie, back in my foster home except instead of chores we were required to perform in a circus and my foster parents were clowns-" she gave a delicate shudder. "I think there were more, but it's all so fuzzy."

Killian rubbed his beard, thinking. "Do you recall anything else? Any odd details? Rumpelstiltskin said that your subconscious mind knows where you are - or rather, where the sphere is. It will give you clues, but they may be subtle."

"Does he think he can reverse this? Get us out?"

Killian paused a moment, looking down. "Aye. He thinks if we can find the sphere, he can reverse its effect. Meanwhile, your father has everyone searching every corner of Storybrooke."

"And we're stuck here with the British gentry," Emma said with a sigh.

"Wait a moment...what do you mean 'British?'"

"We're in England." Emma said with a shrug.

"Wouldn't that make us English?"

"England is a part of Britain. We're both. You just fit in better than I do," she noted.

"Because I sound British."

She looked at him oddly. "What are you getting at?"

"You've told me that more than once. Over and over, in fact."

"You think it means something?" she reached out, squeezing his hand.

"I don't know, love. But it's the first solid clue we've had, unless you can think of something else."

"So now what?" Emma asked.

"Now we find Belle, and we try to give her the clue...very, very delicately - if you're sure it's her dream."

"Well, who else is here?"

"Everyone, unfortunately, with the exception of your parents and Henry." He said. "My good friend Mr. Bingley is none other than Robin Hood, and the village Vicar is - you're going to love this - Rumpelstiltskin."

Emma closed her eyes, willing herself to remember the damn movie. "So that means Belle is my friend, and my sisters are...?"

"Regina, Red, Ariel and Dr. Hopper in drag. Your mother is Granny. Your father is one of the assorted dwarves."

"What?" Emma's face screwed up.

I didn't write the damned dream," he pointed out.

"What the hell did Belle eat before bed?" Emma said crankily. She leaned back against a nearby beam. "Wait a minute - there's a another clue."

"What?"

"Archie. I was playing basketball with him in another dream."

Killian nodded slowly, then his head snapped up. "And when I was wounded and in the hospital with you...I recall someone trying to bring Pongo for a visit. You wouldn't let them bring the dog inside."

"That's right. I remember that. So we've got Archie and being British. Whatever that means." She pushed off the beam. "Well, we'd better go find Belle."

Killian stepped in front of her. "Why the rush?"

"Are you kidding? You know this dream can be over any time. If we need to communicate, we need to do it sooner rather than later."

He reached out, smoothing back an errant curl from her elaborately put up hairstyle. "I realize that, love. It's just..." he stepped in closer. "It's good to see you, Emma."

"I didn't even get a chance to miss you," she said. "My back feels wonderful, by the way."

His eyes gleamed in the pale light coming through the stable door. "All of you felt wonderful. Do you actually pay men to stroke your body?"

She gave him a look. "It's not like that. At least, it's usually not. And it's not always men, either."

His eyes widened. "Really?"

She punched him in the arm for that one. "Will you stay focused?"

"I am, love, I am." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her soundly, and it didn't take but a millisecond for Emma to respond, leaning in and parting her lips as he deepened the kiss. He finally let out a sigh and reluctantly pulled back.

"I was beginning to wonder if I'd have to wait years for you," he said in a quiet voice. "As the weeks went by, I grew more and more discouraged."

"And here you are," she said softly.

"And here you are," he added. "Finally. And if we're torn apart again, I'll wait the weeks, the months, the years, if I have to."

She slid her arms up around his neck. "Killian..."

"Mr. Darcy!"

Rumpelstiltskin's voice echoed through the stable from where he stood framed in the doorway, holding a lantern. Unfortunately, he was far from alone. Behind him stood Belle, Granny, Regina and Archie, who clasped a beaded reticule to his chest with a fluttering hand. Emma eyed them all with a kind of comical horror, realizing that she must look like a brazen harlot to every one of them. In the context of Regency England, her reputation was ruined, compromised beyond repair.

Well, not entirely beyond repair. Never let it be said that Killian Jones didn't know how to think on his feet. Or on one knee.

"I'm so pleased to see you all," he said smoothly. "Miss Bennett has just agreed to become my wife."

Granny, Regina and Belle's jaws all dropped in unison, and Archie fainted dead away into Rumpelstiltskin's arms.

###

"Swift thinking," Emma said under her breath some time later after they'd been ushered inside and received everyone's congratulations. "Now you have to buy a ring."

"You should have read the book, love. I'm frightfully wealthy."

Emma raised her brows. "Oh." She glanced over at Regina, who was talking animatedly with Robin. "Aren't you supposed to be coming between those two?"

Killian looked over at them. "Whyever would I do that?"

"It's in the book. Or the movie, at least."

"I don't think we have to follow the rules so exactly. The dream is a framework. What we do from here is our business."

Emma made a hmmphing sound. "I guess you're right. Mr. Darcy certainly never compromised Miss Bennett in a stable."

"I was ready to compromise you during that damned massage," he said testily. "You were driving me to the edge of insanity."

"Sorry."

"I'd be happy to pick up where we left off, you know. Just say the word."

Emma groaned, leaning back a little. "I may take you up on that. Once I take this damn corset off, my ribs will need to be realigned."

He waggled his brows."I'd be happy to help you out of that corset, as well."

Emma shushed him. "Not in Regency England, you won't." She glanced over his shoulder, then raised her hand to wave. "There's Belle."

"Where?"

"Standing over there next to that old guy - the one who's ogling Regina."

Killian turned to look, but Belle had broken off, making her way toward them. She reached out, taking Emma's hands in hers.

"I'm so happy for you, Lizzie! I'd not even been aware that the two of you harbored much more than a tolerable indifference to each other."

"Yes, well...you know how we British are," Emma said brightly. "We like to...uh...hop around with our emotions," she finished lamely. Killian gave her a sardonic look that made it clear she was awful at this.

"Why, I disagree," he said good-naturedly. "We British would never classify ourselves as hoppers of any sort. I certainly have never been a hopper, and I don't know many British who would own to such a thing."

Belle gave them an uncertain look. "No...I suppose not," she said.

"And while it's perfectly admirable to be British," Killian continued, "I've never visited anyplace with such charming people as I've found in Storybrooke."

Belle's eyes squinted a bit. "Storybrooke?"

"Surely you've heard of it?" Killian went on.

"You should hop over there sometime," Emma added, with an overly bright smile. Belle backed up a step.

"Lizzie, are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Emma answered, waving her off. "I'm just...so glad to be British. Even though Storybrooke is great." She smiled again, a big, plastic smile. Belle took two more steps back.

"Wait..." she said, tilting her head at the two of them. "I've seen you together before." Belle put her hand to her forehead, rubbing it. Then she looked up from the book she'd been reading, and realized that she'd dozed off. She stretched, and stared over at Hook, still motionless on Regina's office couch. She'd agreed to watch over him tonight, but wasn't proving herself much of a watchman.

She got up, walking over to the window, doing her best to remember the fragments of her dream. Hadn't she seen them? It had been three days since the last dreamsighting of Hook and Emma, and now she remembered them. Something about being British, but they were...getting married in Storybrooke? She picked up her cell phone and dialed it, looking out the office window while she waited for Rumpel to pick up.

She nearly dropped the phone when she saw a face in the shadows, and she backed away from the window, running to the door to switch on the outside light on the front porch. She moved back into the office and looked again, but no one was there now. Belle couldn't get over the feeling that whoever it was wasn't gone. When she heard the phone pick up, she let out a breath in relief.

"Rumpel? You need to get over here - and bring David. I think I got a message, and there's someone out here, watching me." She looked over at Hook. "Watching us."