After he discovered her letters, Mr. Collins boarded up her windows. It was a tight job, and no light leaked through to tell her if it was day. A little light snuck in under the door. Even though she'd kept the letters from Georgiana, she had never been able to reread them. She had to recall everything from memory.

Each day when the maid who had replaced Sarah opened the door to remove her chamber pot and dirty plates and provide new food and water, the sudden light shining through the doorway blinded Elizabeth. Then she eagerly soaked in every scrap of color so she could remember for the rest of the day that she wasn't blind.

Mr. Collins stood outside the door each day while the maid cleaned her room. Elizabeth always asked if Sir Clement had given up, and what the weather was like. He never replied.

The new servant never spoke to Elizabeth. She did not even know her name.

Lydia and Kitty had taken to whispering to Elizabeth under the door when Mr. Collins was out and the servants were busy. But after the first time they were caught and punished, they became very cautious and only did so when Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet were both engaged elsewhere. Sometimes days went past before Elizabeth heard the tap on the door, and Lydia's whispered, "La, Lizzy, are you there?"

Elizabeth had convinced Mary to stop her lectures about proper behavior and have a real conversation. But one afternoon Mr. Collins caught them talking about the Christmas decorations, and after that he forbade Mary speaking with her.

She had missed Christmas. That afternoon the fragrant smell of goose and turkey and partridges wafted into her room making her stomach growl. In one of the few things he ever said to her, Mr. Collins had announced the previous day that since it was Christmas, he was giving the new maid a half-day, and she could wait until the next day to eat. In the evening the faint sound of her mother and sisters singing carols had slid under the door of her room.

Elizabeth spent the day pretending to talk to Georgiana. No presents, nothing. Her stomach was hollow. They had just put up all the red and green decorations when she was locked up. It was a freezing day with no fire in her room, and her toes felt colder than normal. But when Elizabeth had almost fallen asleep in the dark, Kitty and Lydia tapped softly on her door. They had stayed up very late so that they could talk after Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet fell asleep. For more than two hours they whispered together as her sisters described everything about the decorations and the day.

The day after Christmas, Mr. Gardiner demanded to see her to ensure she was well. But once he saw that she was being fed, he let Mr. Collins lead him away, and the door was shut once more.

Jane never made Mary's mistake.

She only talked about how Elizabeth needed to marry Sir Clement. Jane was happy; she had a child. "Lizzy, you told me not to marry Mr. Collins, but look at us. We are so happy. If you marry Sir Clement, everything will be so much better. Papa Collins is really angry. You are making everyone unhappy. All of your friends keep asking, and I don't know what to tell them. It is embarrassing. If you don't marry him, Papa Collins might throw Mama and everyone out. Don't you care about Mama? Please, Lizzy, for me? I would do anything for you. Just marry him, for me."

The room smelled. She smelled. Her clothes smelled. Stink, stink, stink.

After the windows were boarded up, Elizabeth had the first day, before she was accustomed to navigating in almost complete darkness, knocked over her chamber pot. The surly new servant had cleaned up the mess, but did not do a good job.

She also had spilled food over herself and her clothes before she got the knack of eating and managing bowls without seeing anything. Elizabeth had begged Mr. Collins to replace the boards with bars. Anything to let her have some light.

He laughed.

Did Mr. Collins have any sense how terrible punishment boarding her windows had become?

Part of Elizabeth wanted to give in, but for now she pretended that Fitzwilliam's ship had been delayed, and he would do something to rescue her when he arrived. She did not know what she would do when so much time had passed that it became impossible for her to pretend that there was any hope of rescue.

It was several weeks after Christmas when Elizabeth heard the locks being undone on her door several hours after her daily meal had been given. Blinded by the light she heard Mr. Collins's harsh voice: "Dress her and send her down."

He did not remain to see his command carried out.

The bright orange light of the late afternoon burned Elizabeth's eyes, and after she shaded them for a minute, she could see again.

Elizabeth had taken to wearing her petticoats and chemise all day, and she wrapped herself up in her thick night robe and blankets for warmth. It was impossible to dress in most of her dresses without another person's help. The buttons up the back were quite tiny, and attempting to tie a corset together by yourself was an exercise in absurdity.

Elizabeth had several times attempted dressing without being able to see anything. For variety.

"Stand so I can dress you, Ma'am."

What did they want with her? "Why? Why am I being sent down?"

The servant sullenly stared back and repeated, "Stand up."

"I assure you, I shall not if you do not explain for what purpose. You've been told not to speak to me, but you have also been ordered to bring me downstairs. Do you wish to be forced to explain to Mr. Collins why I shall not come?"

The woman scowled at Elizabeth as she weighed her options. "They want you to speak to the gentleman."

Elizabeth had heard raised voices some minutes earlier, but as she could not distinguish the words, she had paid little attention. She had not believed it was Sir Clement's voice, but it hardly surprised her that she was wrong.

Sir Clement might have decided to demand another audience with her, but she had no intention of seeing him. Then Elizabeth recalled that she had grown ugly and wild looking, and none of her dresses were clean. Elizabeth looked down at her long and untrimmed fingernails.

Maybe her appearance — or smell — would at last put him off. If not, she would scratch him with her fingernails.

Elizabeth looked over her clothes and selected the dirtiest dress to put on. The one she had spilled the barely warm soup over the day after the windows were boarded up.

The maid raised her eyebrows at Elizabeth's choice, but helped her into the dress, and then insisted on making Elizabeth's hair into an untidy bun.

Elizabeth stumbled down the stairs, finding it difficult to climb the steps. She was led to the study, and as she walked towards the door, she prepared herself, tensing her arms with anticipation. If he gave her any opportunity, she would scratch Sir Clement. Her anxiety at being grabbed again was gone, she just wanted to make him hurt. They had left her trapped in a dark room, but she was not beaten. She would never let them beat her.

She had secreted Georgiana's letters under her dress, and she touched them for reassurance.

Sir Clement was not in the room.

A tall, thin gentleman stood next to the desk. Upon her entrance he turned to stare at her with a powerful intensity in his blue eyes. He was deeply tanned and a large scar dominated the left side of his face. It extended from the bottom of his ear into the edge of his hairline. Elizabeth's hand would barely cover it. The skin was wrinkled and leathery, and there was a circle of crumpled skin drawn together in the middle. Half his eyebrow was missing.

It was a pity, for otherwise he had a very handsome face. They studied each other, and then he said in a strained, yet quiet, voice, "Lizzy."

Her eyes widened. Suddenly she knew it was Fitzwilliam. Like the missing pieces of a puzzle falling into place, she recognized him, though he was ten pounds lighter and there was some change that went far deeper than his face. In a sudden flair of elation she knew he would rescue her, and she impulsively threw her arms around him.

He staggered and then held her close. Elizabeth sobbed happily. "Fitzwilliam, Fitzwilliam. Oh. Oh. You are here. Here. At last. I've been waiting for you."

"My ship only came this morning." There was a smile in his familiar strange voice. He kissed her on the forehead. "I am here. It will be well. I promise."

"You did come to rescue me?" Elizabeth felt a wild fear. What if he was here, like Uncle Gardiner at Christmas, only to ensure she was alive and well. "I can't, I can't, I can't. I can't go back in there. No. No. No—"

"Shhh. It will be well. You won't. I swear." He awkwardly brushed his hand over her cheek, wiping away the tears. "You don't have to return."

"How?"

He didn't quite meet her eyes. "Your mother…your mother agreed to let me marry you. W-would you be willing?"

She stared at him in surprise. But she remembered her uncle's explanation of how nothing could be done to remove her. This must be the only way for her to escape, and he was sacrificing himself to marry a girl he'd not seen for five years, and who had become shockingly ugly in that room.

His deep blue eyes looked at her and though she felt guilty about how he was throwing himself away on her, she tightened her arms around him and desperately said, "Yes. Yes. Oh, yes."

There was something almost hesitant in the way he held her. He said, a little slowly, "I really… I have read all your letters, many times. And…and we will suit very well. They, I… T-that is. I know it is to escape, but if you really do not wish to marry me, perhaps, oh I do not know. I would not wish to force you—"

"No. No. Any other course would be dangerous and illegal. Oh, thank you, thank you. I swear I shall be the best wife ever. I do. Do not worry. I shall do everything for you and...and…and you will never regret marrying me. And I am so glad you cared for my letters. Oh. Your brother died. That is why Mama will let you…you must be so hurt still."

"I will grieve later." He kissed her on her forehead. "Then it is settled. Do not worry. I will never regret marrying you."

He fell silent and studied her. His skin was deeply tanned, but beneath it he looked pale and almost ill. Elizabeth's cheeks flamed. Now that he saw properly what she looked like, he must be reconsidering. But she couldn't let him. She would look better in time, and she could make him happy. She knew it.

"I kn-know I look so terrible. I am dirty and my hair and…" She flinched a little away from him. "I haven't bathed for six weeks. They've kept me there. And no light. I will look far better once I'm clean and dressed, I swear. And…and the dress is dirty. Oh and I embraced you. But it was all long dry, so your uniform…oh." Little flakes of dried soup stuff had brushed off providing a green grime against the shining red.

"They did not even clean your dresses." His jaw clenched.

"Oh. It is not so bad as that. You shall need to clean your uniform. Forgive me. This is the only one with food spilled over, and while it would have been quite dusty, I still had one clean gown. But—" She looked into his eyes hopefully, "You see I thought they wished me to speak to Sir Clement again, and I planned to scratch his face."

"And you dressed to disoblige him." There was a smile on Darcy's face, though only the unscarred side of his mouth pulled back into a perfect dimple.

But his smile made Elizabeth's heart feel much easier. "Yes. Yes. You see it was the most natural thing to do. I look like a frightening monster."

"You look brave and beautiful… I do not appear as I would wish to either."

"No." Elizabeth uncontrollably glanced at Darcy's scar again, and then she smiled. "That doesn't matter. Oh… It doesn't matter at all. It is not bad." Elizabeth threw her arms, food smeared dress and all, around this unfamiliar friend who was to be her husband. Tears were in her eyes. Fitzwilliam was at last here, and she was safe.

Darcy embraced her back, though he left his arms loose.

Elizabeth started away and exclaimed, "I used to embrace you so, when I was a child. I did not think — you do not mind?"

"No." He smiled at her, flashing his white teeth. When he smiled that way, he was completely handsome, despite the scar. "I do not mind at all."

Then he winced and grabbed at the top of his head, rubbing his fingers at his skull.

"What is it? Are you well?"

He forcefully moved his hand back down to his side. "It is nothing. Only a headache — and I am sore. I had not ridden for any distance for years before this afternoon."

"Oh. A headache. I'll call for something to be brought and…" But instead of moving, she stared at the bell pull on the wall. She didn't want to call the servants of this house. She wanted to leave Longbourn and never, ever see it again. Fitzwilliam placed his hand over her wrist and shook his head, wincing at the movement. "No, we must talk about matters, and then I shall need to return to London so I can get the special license and arrange the settlements tomorrow and then, if you are willing, I will return the day after tomorrow with Georgiana. You do not mind marrying so quick? It seems best."

Settlements? Elizabeth's guilt at letting him sacrifice himself for her came back. "I assure that I don't expect any great amount of pin money. It is not as though I care for money, or…"

He smiled with what could only be fondness. "You are the girl who thinks there would be nothing difficult about six women living on two hundred per annum."

"Well there wouldn't be. No serious difficulties. You have food, and a house, and a maid, and nothing more could be needed. If I hadn't thought that, I would have needed to marry Sir Clement when Mr. Collins threatened to throw everyone but Jane out if I didn't."

"My brave Lizzy. I do hope you will not be terribly cut up by having a little more money than that, for since Pemberley is entailed, I really cannot do anything about the matter."

She wanted to embrace him again but was afraid that the sudden movement would worsen his headache, so she looked at Fitzwilliam with shining eyes. For the first time, perhaps since her father died, she knew everything would be happy and well. She bit her lip and smiled, "Oh, I suppose your income will be tolerable, but only since you cannot help it."

"I promised to make a settlement of three thousand on each of your unmarried sisters. That was the bribe to Mrs. Bennet. You always spoke as though you were fond of them."

"That is such a great fortune."

"I did not want to give anything to Mrs. Bennet or Mr. Collins directly…not after how they have used you. I saw the window. You… I imagine you do not want vengeance but…"

"I might. Jane has been completely horrid; Mama worse than I ever imagined her she could be. But Mary didn't do a good job of lecturing me, and Kitty and Lydia have been very kind. They were the only friendly people who have spoken to me since Sarah was dismissed — do you mind if I hire her, as my lady's maid, if she has not found a position yet? She is the one who posted the letters for me."

"I would be very, very pleased to have anyone who was kind to you in our house."

He looked out the window. "I must leave, I will be in the dark most of the way, but the moon is bright enough tonight."

Elizabeth was suddenly terrified of being alone. She bit her lip and nearly begged him to take her with him. Mr. Collins would change his mind, or Sir Clement would do something terrible, and if he left she would be placed in the room again, but she couldn't stay there after her hope.

He took her hand and squeezed it. "Lizzy, Lizzy. Of course I won't leave you alone. You have been so brave, but now it is my place to care for you." He walked to the door of the study and opened it. A man in a soldier's uniform stood guard next to the door. "Sergeant Tomlinson will remain to protect you from your relatives and Sir Clement. He saved my life, and you can trust him completely."

"Yes, ma'am. Though it was the Colonel who saved mine. I am at your service." Tomlinson was a man of middle height, who looked short next to Fitzwilliam. He held his head in a peculiar jutted-forward manner that looked painful. There was something capable and reassuring about the way he stood. He had two pistols stuck into his belt and a long sword. Her terror at being left receded.

Elizabeth exclaimed, "I remember you! Fitzwilliam praised you as having a genius for finding supplies when I visited the company's camp that week before you departed."

"Yes, Miss. You were almost a child then."

"Thank you. For saving Fitzwilliam, I am sure you were brave."

He laughed. "Nothing of the sort. Just nursed him through the fever."

She walked with Fitzwilliam outside, and Mrs. Hill had found Elizabeth's long pelisse to put on so she could go out in the freezing wind. Elizabeth was glad her dress was now covered up, but she still had a desperate need of a bath.

When Fitzwilliam reached the stables he stared at the horse and shook his head. He looked at the groom, "Take care of the animal. I will hire a post-chaise to return to London. I do remember that there is a posting station in Meryton?"

"Yes. You should have no trouble hiring." Elizabeth took Fitzwilliam's hand. "Goodbye? I should not walk into town with you dressed like this. Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"I do not believe your mother would trust you to do so." He gestured his head towards where Mr. Collins and Mrs. Bennet watched them from the entrance of Longbourn. "Tomlinson, a minute."

The two talked, with Tomlinson nodding his head several times, and they firmly shook hands. Fitzwilliam returned to her, kissed her hand and set off in a stiff gait down the road to Meryton.