Author's Note: thanks for the reviews. I hope this chapter was worth the wait...I realize now that I need to include a bit more reference to Lizzy in the lead up.

Chapter Ten

High Noon

Fitzwilliam Darcy

A well-known saying exists that the more things change, the more they stay the same. It might also be said that the more a person changes, the more that person stays the same. As Darcy endeavored to alter his behavior, he discovered that his instincts remained unchanged. An onlooker might remark on the evident renovation of his personality, as Bingley persisted in doing during the week-long hunting party, but from within, Darcy underwent more of an evolution than a revolution.

Since childhood, he had always been kind. He had always been generous. He needed only to act on the impulses buried underneath years of self-importance and entitled satisfaction. It was a process of discovery, seeking out that forsaken trove of goodwill, and not a trial of creation. There was no violence in his change, which all acts of creation necessitate; there was only exhausting excavation.

Learning the skill of truly listening to others and training his heart to care for a stranger's plight required him to reach deep within himself. But reach he did, again and again. He doubted he would ever enjoy playing the part of the confidant or caretaker, doubted the depths of his stores of patience for the inconstancies of others, but as he persevered in choosing tolerance and forgiveness for the weakness of humanity, over impatience and implacability, he discovered a growing supply of those virtues and an increased ease in accessing them. And while he realized he may have always possessed these higher traits, he owed all the credit for their use and abundance to Elizabeth.

Her rejection had humbled him. It continued to humble him. She was in his thoughts each time he chose to smile at a foolish, but harmless social faux pas, each time he chose to hold his tongue at a well-meaning, but poorly-executed comment, in short, each time he allowed a mortal to act like a mortal. He was not a god, after all. He never had been. In fact, he had been a bigger fool than any of the fools he had ever mockingly judged. Including, he realized one day, Elizabeth's own family. As the nuances of his behavior softened, he could easily envision the look of shock that even Miss Lydia would have shown had she heard the pompous meanness of his proposal. He could hear her very loud, very appropriate guffaw, in fact.

Considering this new effort to act on his better parts, it was only natural that when his steward failed to complete a simple task in preparation for the annual fishing excursion at Pemberley, Darcy did not sigh and think meanly of the man—whose oversight of Pemberley had produced years of plenty—but offered to ride ahead a day of his traveling party, which consisted of Georgiana, Mrs. Annesley, and Bingley and his family—and help his steward with the task. Darcy had always been an understanding master, but Elizabeth had made him an understanding man.

And as an added reward for his patience, he would be able to inspect the room that Mrs. Reynolds had decorated for his sister's pleasure as well as delight in the beauty of the new headstones in the old cemetery. The piano and the gravestones, according to his steward's note, had finally arrived.

~0~

Darcy wished Georgiana farewell at the inn, leaving her in the care of Mrs. Annesley and Caroline Bingley. He could not say enough good things about his sister's lady's companion; he would not say anything bad about her friend. For all of Miss Bingley's contrivances aimed at entrapping his heart, she was a consistent friend to his sister. And Georgiana would enjoy her company on the road, far more than he could boast. He would see his sister and their guests at Pemberley tomorrow, he assured them. Bingley was none too happy to be stuck with his own family as fellow travelers but gave a hardy send-off all the same. Darcy stuck to his plan of departing before breakfast, hoping to arrive at Pemberley before noon.

The morning was warm, and he had to stop more often than expected to give his horse water and rest. Around midway, he pulled off the highway for a longer break, trotting a few yards into the woodland to a stream he knew ran coolly beneath the thick canopy. He slung his jacket over a tree branch and drenched his shirt in the stream. The sunlight dappled in through the leaves and onto him. He rubbed his stallion's neck, watching the golden drops of light shift over his skin and the horse's coat. The dazzling play of light mesmerized him, calling to mind the way the sunlight had moved in Elizabeth's hair as she had walked beside him through Rosings park.

"Some day, perhaps, old boy," he whispered to his horse. "Some day I may see her again, and if I am very lucky, I will show her that I am a better man." That was all he wanted from her—all that he allowed himself to want from her—the chance to show her that he had taken her reproofs to heart, and from heart to actions.

He lingered in the speckled shade of the trees for a spell, enjoying the solitude and silence. If he pushed ahead without further delay he should arrive at Pemberley within another hour or so. He tossed his horse an apple and ate one himself, before shrugging back into his jacket and mounting his stallion.

"To Pemberley, old boy," he clicked to his horse, riding back out onto the highway.

~0~

Darcy trotted up the drive to Pemberley, swinging around the front entrance and cutting a path straight for the stables. His stable boy jumped in surprise at his master's sudden appearance, scrambling up from a pile of hay and bowing at the ready to him. Darcy smirked at the lad and told him that all was well. "Just be sure to give my horse an extra brush and some carrots. He has earned his keep this hot morning."

Darcy had made record time this last leg of his journey, probably beating his steward who rode northward from town. He wiped the grime from behind his neck and pounded some of the highway dust from his jacket and trousers. He needed a change of clothes and some clean water to wipe off the heat of the ride. Thinking of his next meal, he walked down the side drive, turned around the corner to cross the lawn, and stopped dead.

Elizabeth Bennet stood twenty yards away from him. Their eyes locked; their cheeks flamed red. A slight breeze ruffled the skirt of her dress as his world came to a halt. A thousand thoughts screamed in his mind. Why was she here? How was she here? Would she stay?

She was beautiful, fairer and more vibrant than his memory had preserved. He would have smiled if he had been able to breathe. She moved before he could, whipping her back to him. Instinctively he ran after her. She stopped at the call of her name and turned back towards him.

"How is your family?" he stupidly asked. "How is Mrs. Bennet? Is your mother well?"

Elizabeth darted her gaze downward and nodded. He could hardly understand her accent when she replied. He did not care. He needed to hear her voice again—oh, her voice. If his memory had done an injustice to the lovely coloring of her complexion, it had committed a crime in the remembrance of her voice. It was perfection, tamed.

"And you are not at Longbourn. When did you leave?" he asked, hotter in the collar as he watched her lips move.

"About ten days ago."

"And that was when you saw your family last."

"Yes."

"And that was how long ago?"

"About ten days, sir."

"And how long have you been in Derbyshire?"

"Only a day or two."

"And you are staying with friends?"

"I have been lodging at inns. I will be staying at Lambton after today."

"And you have been in the county long?"

"A day or two."

She glanced up at him. He had no idea what he had just said to her, and feared she was about to flee from him. He had a feeling he had asked certain questions twice, but he could not say which questions. He certainly could not repeat back what her answers had been. He saw beads of sweat across her nose and around her eyes and ached to sweep the dew away with his fingertips. He wished she would not look away again, but her gaze immediately flickered back to the ground.

"I am just now come home," he needlessly explained. "It is very warm today."

He realized in the saying of it that he must be a horror to behold—unkempt and sweaty. Hungrily he rolled his gaze over her averted face and up and down her trembling frame. There was an energy that trebled between their bodies. Or perhaps that was the beating of the blood in his veins and the drums in his ears.

"Good day," he abruptly said, eager to shed these filthy clothes for fresh ones and properly receive her into his home. Had she been inside his home? "Good day," he mumbled again.

He bowed curtly, distracted with his own appearance and dumbstruck by hers. He rushed passed his gardener and some strangers—not even bothering to wonder at who they were—and jogged across the lawn, up the stairs, and through the front doors.

"Mrs. Reynolds!" he called before the door had closed shut. He knew his valet and butler were still en route from London and would arrive with the guests and his sister. Darcy absolutely started at the thought of Georgiana. Would Elizabeth agree to meet her? Would she allow him to introduce his sister at last?

Mrs. Reynolds approached him then, her expression wrinkled with wonder and concern. He must appear disturbed to warrant such a look as that. "I am quite well," he began without prompting. "I am only in a hurry. I need clean clothes and fresh water sent up to my rooms, as quickly as possible."

"Would you care for one of the footmen to assist you?"

"No, that is fine." Darcy moved toward the stairs but halted after taking three at a time. "Mrs. Reynolds," he called after her, running a shaking hand through his hair, "was there a young woman here earlier today? A brunette young woman with jewels for eyes?"

Darcy impatiently tapped his hand against his thigh, waiting for a reply. His housekeeper gestured at a nearby maid to do her bidding and turned towards her master, staring up at him with her lips pressed together and her eyes wide.

"I really cannot say whether the young lady had jewel-like eyes, but there was a young woman, rather pretty come to think of it, who toured the public rooms, not a half hour ago." Mrs. Reynolds paused. "I am remembering now that she mentioned she knew you a little, sir."

"She admitted that?"

"Yes, sir, she admitted that—is that significant to you?"

"Everything about her is significant to me," he replied, too vulnerable to dissemble. "What exactly did she say, Mrs. Reynolds? I beg you to tell me all that she said."

"She did not say very much, sir, only concurred with my boasting, if you will pardon my boldness, that you are handsome."

Darcy blanched at the unexpected answer. "Handsome, Mrs. Reynolds? She called me handsome?"

"She did not say the word herself, but she heartily agreed with me on the matter. Are you pleased, sir?"

"Pleased? I am astonished." Out of all the comments he would have ranked as most likely for Elizabeth Bennet to utter about him, a positive word about his physical appearance would not have even made the list. It was something, however. He would not complain.

"Did she say anything else? Did she approve of Pemberley? Was there a room she seemed to especially enjoy? Perhaps the piano room? How long was she here for? Did she say where she was going afterwards?" Darcy put up his hand, adding, "Answer me that last, only. I must hurry if I am to catch her before she is gone."

"She should be nearing the west bridge at this point, unless there was some unforeseen delay. Phillip usually leads travelers through the westward coppice and around the lake, staying on the main path of the park that hugs the river."

"Very good. Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds, you have been more helpful than you can possibly know." He smiled lovingly down at his trusted housekeeper. "I daresay you left a far better impression on her than I ever have."

With that droll remark, Darcy started up the stairs again, undressing as he ran.

"Do you want some food sent up, sir?" Mrs. Reynolds called after him. "You must be hungry from your travels."

"I am quite satisfied at the moment," he answered without turning around. If he had spared the time to glance down, he would have seen Mrs. Reynolds barely able to suppress her giggles.

~0~

Darcy had never been more appreciative of the efficiency of his staff, than when throwing open his chamber doors, he found a footman topping off a cistern with steaming water and a crisp shirt hanging over the mirror. He dismissed the man, after thanking him, and vowed to procure sweets for his entire staff. Sometimes the fuss of another's help slowed things, and he would prefer some solitude to calm his mind.

Elizabeth was here, at his home. He could scarcely believe it, though he had seen her in the flesh with his own eyes. It was evident from the blush of shock that had washed over her face that she had not anticipated his arrival. But if she had not come to see him, why had she come to see his estate? For curiosity? For amusement? For inspection? He prayed Pemberley had been up to scratch. For a wild moment he wondered if she had come to seek a renewal of his addresses, but he banished the idea as swiftly as it had recklessly blown through his mind. Such hope was a fool's feast. There was nothing he could say for certain about her extraordinary visit, other than that it was extraordinary.

Within a quarter hour, he was washed, dressed, and out the front doors, his pace quick and sure. If Mrs. Reynolds was correct, and she was always correct about these sorts of things, then Phillip, their head gardener, should only be a mile from the house. Darcy took a short cut through his woods, breaking into a run when he slipped into the thicket. Frenetic as his thoughts were, he forced himself to slow down as he stepped onto the main path. He saw the movement of pastel colors across the river, and knew he was within yards of speaking to her again.

Delayed, he realized that she was obviously not alone in her travels. There had been that couple standing by Phillip, who must be her traveling companions. "Blast," he cursed at himself, chastising his lack of civility in asking for an introduction. It was not as if she had a high opinion of his kindness toward strangers. He would not omit that mark of politeness a second time. He would be gratuitously hospitable. Perhaps he ought to invite Elizabeth and her friends to stay over at Pemberley. He had more than enough rooms—but no, he reined in his fancy as he strode across a narrow bridge, he must not drive her away by a deluge of generosity, in the same way he had driven her away by a dearth of it. He went around a bend and suddenly she was in front of him. And he forgot everything, except how much he had missed her. His sweet Elizabeth. But he could not call her that, he reminded himself. No, he could not call her that.

"Miss Bennet," he said with perfect inflection.

She bowed her head. "Mr. Darcy. We were just finishing our delightful tour. The park is charming and—" She stopped speaking, and he waited for a moment to see if she would go on. He would accept praise of Pemberley from her as little or as lauded as she deigned to give it. But she had apparently finished and, remembering his intent, he asked for the honor of being introduced to her friends. In a glance, he judged that they were some fashionable couple, likely from town.

"This is my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, my mother's brother. He lives across from his warehouse in London."

Darcy did his best to hide his surprise at the familial connection, noticing the sly look Elizabeth flashed at him from beneath those curtains of lashes. This was his first real test, he knew. He would not fail. So it had been at school; so it would be in life.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said. "And what sort of business do you trade in, Mr. Gardiner?"

"Textiles, sir."

"That is a growing industry. You must be very busy."

"Indeed I am. We had planned on going to the Lake District, but I had to shorten our travel in order to return to my business a littler earlier."

"How fortunate that you could take the time off to see as much of the country as you have. It is a beautiful time of year."

"A beautiful time to fish, especially. I see you have a bevy of trout nipping for some bait."

"More than I know what to do with," Darcy replied. He motioned for them to continue walking, assuring them that he had not meant to curtail their enjoyment of the river path by joining them. "Phillip, you may return to your other duties, if you wish." His gardener nodded and hiked away as the rest of the group meandered forward, edging closer to the house.

Elizabeth paired off with her aunt in front of the group, and Darcy soaked in the sight of her. He quietly observed the sway of her skirts, and the elegant way she tilted her head to better listen to her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner was fair for her age, soft around the edges from care and children. Darcy walked and conversed with Mr. Gardiner in the rear, more and more impressed by the man with each new utterance. He was a kind-faced man, with a ginger beard and hair. Darcy struggled to reconcile this dulcet-toned, intelligent man with his knowledge of the sister, discovering the only resemblance in the two siblings' eye color. In this brief exchange, he learned a happy coincidence that Mrs. Gardiner had spent her childhood in Lambton, and had renewed some old friendships there during their trip.

"She has always boasted that she was born in the loveliest of counties, and I am beginning to think she is entirely right to be so proud," Mr. Gardiner said.

"I am not one to disagree with her, and you will find perhaps an even greater bias in my opinion."

"It is with little wonder that you would feel thus. I have never seen such an abundance of fish in one stream in all my life."

"Please help me thin out my river and fish here whenever you like, for as long as you are in the neighborhood," he invited Mr. Gardiner, after the gentleman—for he was a gentleman, Darcy easily perceived.

"We will supply you with a rod and tackle," Darcy continued. "You have met Phillip, and he is usually working somewhere about the lawns during the summer months. He will be your guide, or you are more than welcome to knock on the door and I would be glad to assist you, if I am at home."

"You are too generous," Gardiner insisted.

"It is no bother. Are you a man interested in all forms of water life? I have some rare water plants that grow just down this side of the bank." Mr. Gardiner's eyes lit up and Darcy suggested that they take a moment to inspect the unusual foliage. He led the group down a steep hill to the embankment, and with muted fanfare, pointed out the riverside attraction.

The Gardiners gasped at the sight of such a large, exotic lily, but Elizabeth, for whom this little detour was designed, remained unphased. Darcy knew only too well that she was not a woman easily impressed, but he could not help showing off and trying to amaze. This may be his only chance to enchant her with the natural wonders under his care. Noticing her distraction, he quickly told the story of his grandfather's procurement of the lily from the West Indies, and the group trecked back up the hill to the main road.

A happy exchange of positions took place following the brief excursion and Darcy found himself side by side with Elizabeth, the Gardiners trailing behind. Elizabeth and he walked silently step in step for about a minute, before she, in an agitated voice, apologized for her intrusion.

"Your arrival was most unexpected, sir. I wish you to know that I was assured of your absence before I came. Your housekeeper informed us that you would certainly not be here 'til tomorrow; and indeed, before we left Blackwell, we understood that you were not immediately expected in the county."

"Do not trouble yourself," he replied, sensing her discomfort. "I am usually away for a good part of the summer, and had not anticipated returning until tomorrow, but I had some business with my steward which occasioned me to come forward earlier than my traveling party."

Darcy hesitated. In all his excitement at seeing Elizabeth, he had forgotten that Bingley and his sisters would be staying at Pemberley. He would rather not broach such a potentially divisive subject, but if he wanted to invite her to dine at Pemberley before she departed from the neighborhood, he would have to do it. Sooner was better than later, he supposed.

With a sigh, he told her of their mutual acquaintances who would be joining him early tomorrow. She answered his admission with the bow of her head. He studied her from his periphery to watch how she digested the news. The last time they had spoken Bingley's name to each other, harsh words had been said. The graveness of her expression made him certain that she was thinking of that fateful argument. "I was wrong," he wanted to declare. "I was so woefully, detestably wrong." Instead he bit back the urge to grovel. He did not want her decamping to another county. He wanted her to stay, and if not for him, then to meet his sister. He steeled his resolve and asked her if she would allow him to introduce Georgiana to her, fumbling over his words as he worried that he was demanding too much of her.

"I would be honored," she quietly answered, and Darcy blew his breath out in heartwarming gratitude. Whatever she thought of him, however little she regarded him, she had the generosity of spirit not to include his sister in her contempt. Darcy did not want to press his chances with her and followed her lead in keeping silent for the remainder of the hike up to the house. He wavered between awe that she was walking beside him, not comfortably—that much he could tell—but willingly, certainly calmly, and fear that he would do or say something which would ignite her ire.

They outpaced her aunt and uncle and reached the carriage a good quarter hour before the Gardiners. Wishful, he asked her to walk into the house. She declined, and Darcy submitted that he must wait until another time to see her within the walls of Pemberley. It had been a dream of his for so long, he could stand another day for its realization. He did not want to simply stare at her, but he could think of nothing inconsequential to say which would avoid more awkwardness. And he would not talk about what he wanted to discuss—what had she thought of the letter, what did she think of Wickham now, and spilling a hundred whirling dervishes int

o his stomach, what did she think of him now. Was he still the last man on earth whom she could ever be prevailed on to marry?

"I have been traveling," she abruptly said, as though only just recalling that fact. "This is the most northward I have ever been."

Darcy latched onto her words, taking her lead in breaking the silence. He could have become completely lost in wondering and watching her. "And have you enjoyed the north?" he asked. "Did you visit Matlock?"

She exclaimed that she had visited there, as well as Dove Dell, and energetically answered each of his informed inquiries into her likes and dislikes of the principle sights along her trip. His questions and comments were not spoken haphazardly, but with a sincere desire to drink in as much of her voice as he could, and a longing to know her better. At length the Gardiners came across the lawn and ambled to the carriage. Darcy smiled at the evident love and respect which the couple shared for one another, noticing the gentle way that Mr. Gardiner held his wife's arm.

"Will you not come into the house and enjoy some refreshments?" he asked, more hopeful that he would receive an affirmative reply from the relatives. To his disappointment, they were as disinclined as their niece.

"We have prior engagements, but thank you good sir, for your invitation," Mr. Gardiner said. "We have enjoyed your beautiful property immensely."

"Yes," Mrs. Gardiner agreed, "I feel as if I am a young girl again and seeing Pemberley for the first time."

"Mr. Gardiner mentioned that you grew up near Lambton, but I did not know you had been to Pemberley before today. Has it changed much since you last visited?"

"If it has, it has only been for the better," she replied.

"Thank you," he simply said.

The Gardiners smiled back at him, and he found himself almost blushing at their kind expressions. He assisted Mrs. Gardiner into the carriage first, and then Elizabeth. His pulse quickened at the warmth of her hand, as the weight of her fingers wrapped around his own. Mr. Gardiner tipped his hat at him and climbed into his carriage. Darcy stepped back and watched them drive away, until he could no longer define the expression of Elizabeth's gaze.

Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. :) And to "Guest," (or anyone reading with the same thoughts), I guess I just have a different view of what Elizabeth's "selfish disdain for the feelings of others" and like-rebukes meant to Darcy. I see it more as a universal indictment of his behavior, not relegated to his behavior merely towards those in his class. Sure, Austen was a classist and Darcy is no different. But a classist can still be a humanist. I do not think it was by accident that the first real shifting of Elizabeth's opinion about him comes when she is being given a tour of Pemberley by his servant, or that Elizabeth's first real prejudice which softens (post-letter) is that he is a good and benevolent master. For me, Burrows' (or the undergardner's or the cook's) role is to highlight Darcy's innate kindness, which he seeks to reveal more fully after Elizabeth's criticism. We are told he is a good master through Mrs. Reynolds in the original text, I am showing what that means and how that augments following the humbling of Hunsford. I include Darcy's interaction with his neighbors to show his dealings with those of his own class. Because I think Darcy's change is more about revealing who he already is. But as the great Sirius Black said, (paraphrasing)...You can get a better measure of a man by how he treats his inferiors than by how he treats his equals. Or another quote along those lines that an Englishman circa 1800s would know: In as much as ye have done it unto the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me. Burrows is a means to showing the actual embodiemet of this virtue, not the mere lip-service to it, but he is not the ultimate reason for any change in Darcy. Elizabeth is. And although he makes two appearances in these last couple chapters, Burrows is a minor character and will only make one more brief appearance later on. He is not meant to detract from the story, but I appreciate your opinion. It has made me think about if I am devoting too much time to his appearances.