"Charles, you cannot be serious."

"Caroline, I am perfectly serious, and I expect you to wish us joy." Mr. Bingley gave a sharp look toward his sister and again took the hand of his lady and kissed it with a warmth for all in the room to see.

Elizabeth looked to Mr. Darcy to take in his reaction. He said the proper thing, but she did not detect much sincerity or much of anything behind his words. Mr. Bingley was too full of joy to read much into his friend's words as he did Caroline's. Elizabeth looked to Jane hoping she was fooled as well. The displeasure radiating from Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley was already enough to hurt Jane's heart.

Charles finally picked up on the tension in the room and asked his youngest sister for some celebratory music hoping to lighten the mood.

Caroline was unwilling to forego the chance to have her own tête-à-tête with Mr. Darcy over the shocking news proclaimed by her brother. Sweetly, and after checking her tone, she said, "Charles, you will have to excuse me as I performed before you joined us. I would not hover over the instrument all night. Perhaps Miss Eliza can favor us instead?"

"I would be most pleased to play for you all." With that, Elizabeth moved to the pianoforte, and in doing so, gave her sister a smile full of hope and delight which did much to brighten Jane's face.

Watching Miss Bingley slither closer, Mr. Darcy jumped to his feet making his way to his escape to where Elizabeth sat sifting through sheet music.

Truly, he wanted to give Miss Bingley the cut direct but decided that could wait until he was not at her mercy as his hostess. Up to that point in the evening, her presence had induced several moments of rage that only Elizabeth seemed to temper, and he decided to go seek his solace again.

"Madam, might I assist and turn the pages?"

Elizabeth raised a brow looking to him, then to Miss Bingley, and then back to him. "If you must, sir."

Instead of standing to her side, he sat next to her on the bench. She did not even attempt to hide her face from him as she rolled her eyes shifting in her seat to purchase as much distance as possible.

Elizabeth selected an arrangement of a piano concerto in D major which she knew very well as it was one of the more difficult pieces she could play with some credit, and she thought it appropriate for the occasion since Jane favored it.

After a few measures, she quietly asked, "Sir, what is your purpose? If it is intimidation, I must tell you I own the imperfections in my playing and do not need you to come all this way to make them any more obvious." She then missed a note.

"Miss Elizabeth, why must you think so ill of my intentions? I thought I have made them very clear. And, I find no fault with you or your playing – it all that is lovely and perfect." In a voice for her alone, he added, "As are you," and moved his leg so that it was closer to hers.

She missed a several notes which caught the attention and subsequent glare of Miss Bingley. Mrs. Hurst's face showed the offence to her perfectly pitched ears.

Mr. Darcy was still suffering somewhat from all the drink earlier in the day, not to mention the port after dinner, and therefore was completely oblivious to the mistakes in the music. His focus was on the warmth and delicious scent wafting off her.

She smelled like the garden at Pemberley on a sunny spring afternoon. Oh, how he would like to walk with her there. He could imagine her dancing happily around the flowers while he chased after her, eventually catching her and pinning her to the cool mossy wall of the house. His sigh was audible.

Mr. Bingley nor Jane seemed to notice Elizabeth's blundering fingers as they were clearly ensconced in their own world across the room.

It was obvious to Miss Bingley there were a pair of lovers in the room. If the steam rolling around in her head had escaped her ears, it would have sounded like a tea kettle at a boil. Mrs. Hurst noticed not only all of Elizabeth's mistakes but also the unabashed admiration in the room, and she felt let out. Her oaf of a husband had passed out after using her quite indecorously upstairs before supper; he never wooed her in private let alone in public.

"Sir, for you to say I and my playing are all that is perfect indicates you are most likely tone deaf and most certainly do not know me well at all. I would not have taken you as such a flatterer two days previous, for I know as fact that you do indeed find fault in me."

"Miss Elizabeth, I do not know of what you think you know. But, until two days ago, I would say I perhaps did not know myself as well as I once thought." For all his confidence, normal reserve, and even drunkenness on this day, she could feel, if not see, the hint of innocence and shyness as he said this.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, I further say none of us are perfect, so I will give you leeway."

"I stand by my assertion." He reached over and turned the page brushing her arm, and she stumbled again as if intentionally proving her fault.

Stumbling a bit further through a more difficult passage in the music, she attempted to lighten the mood between them.

"Mr. Darcy, since you clearly portend to not be acquainted with my faults, then I will let you wallow in ignorance. But, do not assume I place you on the same pedestal." She could not help an arch smile toward him.

"Have no fear on that score madam. I am well aware you have enough to count against me. I do believe I promised a proper apology at a later time and will make amends."

She turned her head back to the music as she started the next movement, and she gave in to her thoughts as the tempo slowed to a larghetto. Mr. Darcy seemed to be lost in his own mind as well.

Elizabeth recalled the letter and how he stated he had no wish to marry. Thusly, she concluded his behavior indicated he that was only toying with her. Originally, she thought it was his honor that made him immediately speak of marriage in the library that night. She knew better now. It was not that she had any hopes for the man, but if she were being honest, she was not indifferent to him. What bothered her at first was that his so-called honor failed to call to hers. She enjoyed the physical part of what they shared but wanted to leave things there – in that library and in the past. Now she found it disgusting he seemed to continue his pursuit using his honorable intentions as an excuse when she was certain he had none. He was a confirmed bachelor, and she dismissed his claim that he had never kissed another. Therefore, it was a high possibility that he was a practiced seducer, albeit a rather reserved one, but perhaps that was part of his craft. How dense must he take me to believe such innocence in a man of his age and when he has clear proficiency in the art as well?

"I have faults a plenty although I normally take great care to avoid what might be considered ridiculous and immoral… believe it or not."

She started at his words as she had lost herself in the study of the music and his character.

Mr. Darcy realized he spoke his own musings aloud and startled his companion. He hurriedly turned the pages to catch up to her current place.

He was impressed as she clearly knew this piece by memory. Likewise, she was impressed as he clearly knew how to read music since he easily found her place in the sheet music. "My apologies for interrupting you, Miss Elizabeth."

"It is no bother, sir." She thought a moment as she prolonged an improvised trill and then started again. "And, sir, what would you consider your greatest fault?" Seducing young women?

She felt his posture become rigid as he took in a deep breath. She did not see his gaze settle on Miss Bingley as he started.

"My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding – certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever."

Whatever Elizabeth was expecting him to say, that was not it. She was not expecting such seriousness or austerity. He was a complicated man, and she was reminded to stay clear of any entanglements with him by the imperious tone of his voice. Her hands stopped at the end of his speech and she looked to his face trying to read what was there. "That is great indeed."

He looked toward the keyboard and pressed his leg closer resting against hers from foot to hip. "I believe Herr Mozart intended one more movement. Shall you oblige him?"

She started the next chapter of the concerto in allegretto which matched the tempo of her breathing when his leg laid against her own – the thinness of her skirt did nothing to insulate his heat. The rushed meter of the final movement gave her an excuse to concentrate on her fingering and escape Mr. Darcy's conversation. As much as she wanted to ask him about his reaction to his friend's engagement and what he meant by telling her of his resentment, she thought it best to leave well enough alone. Additionally, if Miss Bingley's glares could inflict bodily harm, she would be on the floor in a heap. She decided her silence was required to avoid bodily harm.

Elizabeth finished her performance, moved to a corner giving the message she did not wish to be followed, and sat there allowing Jane a little more time with Mr. Bingley before she called her sister to retire for the evening. She did not look in Mr. Darcy's direction.

AN HOUR LATER, ELIZABETH SAT upon her bed still dressed and distressed as she was earlier in the evening. She was glad Mr. Bingley agreed to accompany them home in the morning as it meant she could leave Mr. Darcy's presence. She loved to study an intricate character but the study of him came at too great a cost.

The hard look in his face as she teasingly asked about his faults made her feel cold in her chest which was then quickly abated by the warmth from his lower body pressed to hers. When he first sat next to her, she accused him of intimidation as a jest, and she now realized he could probably do a credible job of it if she allowed him.

Despite her thinking of his ability to be stern and imposing, she was not ready to capitulate to his hypocrisy when it came to her. Although she did not welcome his suit, if she could call it that, she could not stop dwelling on his proclaimed intent toward her which was greatly contrasted by the words in the letter she held in her hand.

Examining the masculine script again, she noticed how he had crossed out the last line in which he referred to her as inappropriate. Perhaps he realized how disrespectful such an assertion would be to her? Even still, she could not forgive him the mortification of being discussed in his private correspondence with his family and in such terms as to belittle her. Did he really think he was so above her?

She knew he was of the first circles, but she was landed gentry just as he was. She came from a long line of Bennet blood and took pride in her family name just as he did. Her family was the primary landowner in the –shire just as she assumed his family was. However, the blow to her pride did not allow for the disparity between barely owning the most land in a county full of small parcels and actually owning half of a much larger county.

Her normally sharp mind did not even consider that while her family could boast the greatest share of land in Hertfordshire by no more than a few acres, it was certainly not the most profitable estate compared its neighbors.

As she turned over the note in her hand again, she realized she must truly consign it to the flames or return it to its owner before she left on the morrow. It would do no good to be discovered among her things by Kitty or Lydia as they always rummaged through her chambers looking for any scrap of fabric or ribbon they could pillage.

Elizabeth wanted to watch his letter burn and with it the offence it caused, but the rational part of her mind prevailed thinking that he had on some level written of admiration for her, and more importantly, the letter was his private correspondence. Although she was indeed a subject on the paper, it was not her property to destroy.

Taking a deep breath and pulling herself off the warm bed, she decided this was her only chance to return this misplaced piece of paper to its rightful owner and be afforded some parting shots before taking her leave. She wrapped herself in her yellow shawl gathering his book with the aged copy of the Jonathon Swift essay. She made her way to the library.

MR. JOHNSON STOOD AT attention in a darkened recess outside the library. Fitzwilliam entered the library an hour previous and had not yet left. He was thinking to check on Fitzwilliam just as he saw Miss Elizabeth exit her room. He slinked further in the shadow of the niche as not to be seen. When she entered the library, he quietly followed deciding to give his master a minute or two with the potential new mistress before innocently stumbling upon the pair.

ELIZABETH ENTERED THE library and shivered. Pulling her wrap tighter, she exhaled and could slightly make out the vapor of her own breath. The fire barely burned and the wind howled outside the extensive glazing along the north wall. She looked around finally spying a peaceful looking Mr. Darcy on the same couch they had shared two evenings ago. Of course he would be asleep.

Placing the books on the adjacent table and clutching his letter in her hands, she studied the form below her. It was very cold, but he only showed a slight chill in his sleep. His face looked calm and boyish, and she thought it impossible to deny how handsome his strong features were when relaxed with such a look of contentment and when tendrils of dark hair swept across his forehead. His dark lashes were quite long for a man although she had not studied such a thing before. Looking at his lips, she could not believe she had kissed them, and she raised her hand to her own mouth. From somewhere came an urge to feel his lips upon hers again, and she straightened putting that thought to the side.

As much as she came to the library to give this man a piece of her mind, she found she was not cruel enough to wake him. She saw him quiver a bit as he seemed to wrap himself up in his jacket more so than he was already. It was just not possible as the coat was already close fitting to his broad shoulders, and Elizabeth recalled earlier in the day when those shoulders were more exposed through the fine lawn of his shirt – his fully exposed waistcoat only served to accentuate a trim waste and did nothing to hide the expanse of his chest.

Elizabeth shoved the letter in her dress – she would not be so careless with it and would only place it directly back into his awake hands. Looking around she spotted a lap rug draped over a brocaded winged-back chair and brought it to the sleeping man in front of her. Why not? I cannot leave him here to the cold, and I most certainly do not want to wake him. Gingerly, Elizabeth placed the rug over Mr. Darcy, and looking almost satisfied with her work, she bent over to tuck the edges around his legs and chest. If she could kiss him two nights ago in this same spot, then surely it was okay to cover him with a blanket since no one was watching.

Mr. Darcy suddenly moved sputtering something incoherent, and before Elizabeth knew it, her hand was within his. He rolled to his side burrowing himself in the rug taking Elizabeth's hand with him pulling her forward. To her further surprise, he kissed it and then started to snore.

She thought she heard what sounded like a laugh from behind a bookshelf but found no one as she looked around from her stooped-over position. This is the last time I am kind to this man. Gently tugging her hand from his grasp, she found herself stuck while he tightened his grip in response to her pulling away. She checked to see if he was really sleeping by waving her other hand in front of his face. His lack of response, continual deep breathing, and the light snoring sound proved he was well passed out. I hope he has a horribly aching head the next day.

To distract him while in his slumber and to silence the annoying sound he was emitting, she thought to put her fingertips to his face. Thinking it would cause him to turn toward her touch, her arm could then release from his grasp. When she gently laid her fingers on his cheek, she was not prepared for the smile he produced nor the words he mumbled in a dreamlike tone, "come to bed sweet Lizzy."

Her touch lingered due to her astonishment, and he turned to his back which did in fact release her arm to which she then lost her balance falling on her rump. It was all too much for her untested emotions.

She scurried up from the floor and fled to the door only to run into the chest of a man even taller than Mr. Darcy. It was a servant.

She took a steadying breath ready to plead for mercy that he not relay to anyone of finding her in such a dark room after the house had retired. At least I am properly attired. Her mind went to finding Mr. Bingley and a nightgowned Jane earlier in the evening.

"Be not alarmed, Madam." He gave her bow. "I was just coming to find my wayward charge."

Elizabeth looked up quite thankful he seemed like a sensible older man with a kind smile, but she was confused at his speech.

She immediately thought she liked this servant and could not help arching her brow at his insinuation. "Mr. Darcy?"

"The very one. I am guessing he has again taken to sleeping in the library. The boy never could withstand the pull of a good book. He has fallen asleep in the library since he was a lad. I have suggested he set up a cot in his own libraries, but he seems to prefer a chair or a couch though they are much too small for his frame."

Elizabeth could not understand why this man was talking so freely of his employer and to her no less – it was not proper. Perhaps Mr. Darcy did not have such tight reign over his servants? "He is asleep over there in the corner. I was just returning some books as I am to leave in the morning. I did not expect to run into any servants as I thought most everyone abed. Pray excuse me. " There. That is not a lie and explains my presence.

Mr. Johnson only looked at her questioningly in the same manner her father did when she was providing the truth as it was convenient to her. She took comfort that this servant also seemed to have the same sardonic look in his eyes, so perhaps he would not hold the offence of a half-truth against her. She very well knew not everyone was abed or at least within their own beds as Mr. Darcy seemed to prefer the cramped fainting couch.

"Miss Bennet?" Mr. Johnson's quiet voice stopped her retreat.

"Yes?"

"You have my assurance that no one will be the wiser to your presence here tonight. And, I thank you for your kindness to Fitzwilliam. It is quite cold."

Elizabeth blushed to the roots of her hair, gave a nod of acknowledgement, and mouthed a "thank you" as she made straight for the door.

"Miss Bennet?"

She did not want to turn around this time but did so anyway. She was polite and applied her better manners equally to all that deserved such – servant or not – dark library or not. Giving a tight smile to the older man, she replied, "Yes?"

"Please forgive my manner, but I cannot let you leave without telling you that regardless of his behavior today, Fitzwilliam is a moral, upright man and not prone to overindulgence. He is well on his way to becoming the best of men as was father. Please give that consideration."

She again gave a nod and fled the room. Feeling so mortified, she was half-tempted to brave the dark and escape to the comfort of home that very moment. Howling wind and confusing men be damned.

MR. DARCY WOKE IN HIS BED without recalling how he got there. It was late in the morning, and the pounding in his head would not cease. He stood and wondered to window just in time to see Bingley's carriage pull out into the drive.

Sitting down, he gave great consideration to crawling back into the bed covers. He did not understand how Bingley and Gilbert managed an aching head so often and was well reminded why he normally limited himself to just a glass or two of brandy or port in the evenings. He promised himself another year at least before indulging in drunkenness again. He laid back down taking comfort in the soft bedding trying to stamp out the light and pounding with a soft down pillow wrapped over his head.

Mr. Johnson opened the door with a glass in his hand which contained a thick liquid releasing an offensive odor.

"Mr. Johnson, I do believe I will stay in bed with a pillow over my head for the rest of the day before I drink whatever that is in your hand. I can smell it under here. And, please spare me your judgement."

"Sir, I believe my judgement is uncalled for at a time like this, but you would do well to lean on my experience with such matters."

Darcy pulled the pillow away. He could not under any circumstances imagine Mr. Johnson drinking himself into such a headache.

"Experience? I have not known you to drink, Mr. Johnson." Darcy was eyeing his valet and the drink suspiciously.

"I do not bother with the stuff now, Mr. Darcy. I know this is not the same restorative Mrs. Reynolds or Mrs. Sharp may concoct, but I trust it will serve you well." He held out the glass.

Darcy decided he may as well drink it and get his day started. He could not recall the last time he had slept past ten in the morning.

Holding his nose, he swigged the green liquid down in one gulp. "Damnation that is foul. What in heavens did you put in that glass?"

Mr. Johnson handed Mr. Darcy a glass of water, and replied, "Sir, it may be best if you do not know."

"Very well. I plan to go for a long ride this morning after I have breakfast." Recalling that the Bennet women were leaving today, he realized the carriage he saw from the window most likely carried them within. "I will have a tray here, please."

Thinking of Elizabeth, he then recalled all of the previous day and felt such a dread wash over him he had to sit back down. How embarrassing it was that he lost his inhibitions and control in front of his future wife. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach chastised him for the behavior he could not recall too clearly, but he knew the previous day was not the finest example of his character and was quite disappointed with himself.

Thinking over his afternoon with Bingley though did bring a chuckle – they had acted like two lads still in university for most the afternoon. His mirth died when he recalled what was said of Miss Bingley. How dare she attempt to compromise him, and how dare his valet keep such a thing to himself. Calming down the redirected anger he felt, he decided to deal with Miss Bingley, Mr. Johnson, and his friend later. Particularly for Miss Bingley, it was time she reaped the consequences the behavior she had sown.

It suddenly struck him that his friend was now engaged. Darcy shook his head at his friend's hastiness. Although Darcy admired and respected his friend greatly, he also thought him to be immature at times. In Darcy's mind, an impulsive marriage to a woman Bingley had known not over a month was just another example of how much further his friend needed to grow in order to become a true gentleman land owner capable of making such weighty decisions.

Unfortunately, Darcy failed to realize the hypocrisy as his next thoughts drifted to securing his own speedy marriage.

Despite feeling guilt and shame for his unseemly behavior the day before towards Elizabeth, his mind was made up to have her. His obligation was a foregone conclusion when lost control that night, and he resolved to be happy at securing a beautiful, intelligent woman for a wife. Her less than finer qualifications, namely her family, could be mitigated well enough with time and distance. Did not Stephen marry below his station? Ruth's family has wealth but no connections of merit.

Darcy was planning to leave for Matlock to join his sister for the Christmastide season, so he would have to make quick work of a courtship and engagement. Thinking through the fog of yesterday, he knew he had done nothing yet worthy to win her affections.

Just a moment, did I truly suggest an assignation in the Library? Feeling disgusted with himself all over again, for he was not a rake, he was grateful she had the sense not to join him. More sense than I clearly have. They had already crossed his imposed limits once, and though he thought that was the most sublime, perfect experience of his life, he knew it should not happen again until they were at least engaged.

The remembrance of having her in his arms flowed through his body causing an ache that he knew could only be fulfilled one day by her, and in no time, he was off across the fields at a breakneck speed towards Longbourn.

A/N: And so the courtship begins… or at least what Darcy thinks a courtship should be! Don't worry, he is clueless, but somethings are natural… like him always getting what he wants as well as very deep attraction taking its course.

Sorry – no recap since this post only lags a couple days since the last.

Thank you for the reviews! They really, really encourage me, so please let me know what you think.

To the guest reviewer who was curious to Jane and Bingley getting engaged so quickly – please PM if you would like to know. I would have replied, but I can't reply to a guest review. There are two very important reasons, but I don't want to put any spoilers out via the chapter updates. I will answer any PM though.

Thank god we are out of Netherfield. I'm ready for some other players to enter the stage!

Oh, and obviously I acknowledge none of JA's words as my own. The credit is to her brilliant mind.