Hi, everyone! I'm so sorry this chapter took so long; I have been busier than I thought I would be. I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a review :)

Darcy had slept fitfully, and upon seeing the light outside his window, jumped out of bed. He was going back to the library; as it was finally a socially acceptable time to do so. The thunder was still rather loud, but the library made him feel safer, as it always had. He sat on the chair in the study, making the quick decision to write to his younger sister, and ask her to come and stay at Netherfield, at her earliest convenience. Elizabeth had entirely the wrong idea, but he could not correct her, so instead, he wanted to appease her. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times, trying to think of how best to start, before deciding to simply tell the truth. After all, Georgie was not so little anymore; she was due to come out next year.

Pemberley

Derbyshire

England

Dear Georgie,

I am afraid that I have not been entirely truthful with you, and I am most displeased with my actions, for you know deceit is my abhorrence. So, I must tell you something.

Miss Elizabeth Bennet is here, Georgie. She is here in Hertfordshire; and her estate Longbourn is only three miles away from Netherfield Park, the estate that Bingley has leased. I am sure you would love to visit, as you probably already know this from your own correspondence with Miss Elizabeth.

Please come, Georgie. I shall tell you my reasons for not telling you sooner, but I cannot do so in a letter. And I know that after reading this, you will wish to rush off to pack, so all I do now is wish you a safe journey to Hertfordshire. Little one, I truly cannot wait to see you, but I must remind you not to travel through thunder and lightning. I have enclosed a note to Richard, too, so please pass it to him.

I am looking forward to seeing you soon, Georgie.

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Netherfield Park

Hertfordshire

England

Elizabeth wandered into the library, ready to choose a book to take on her room, for she could hardly walk in so much thunder. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a certain man's slightly curly locks, as his quill scratched across the letter. As he ran his hand through them, his face was revealed, his eyes were red and there were clear bags under his eyes. If he was so tired, why would he be awake so early? As another roll of thunder was heard, she watched as his entire body tensed, and his hand shook slightly. Had he realised she was there? But no, of course his reaction was not due to her. It was the thunder… perhaps he was scared. She watched as he rubbed his eyes, which seemed larger than usual in the dim candlelight. Elizabeth was loathe to admit it, but Mr Darcy looked positively adorable; the errant curl slung across his forehead and a slightly uncertain expression on his face; she could not quite place it. As she heard thunder's cry yet again, he almost jumped out of his seat, dropping the letter that he was trying to seal. Oh, the poor man; how could he be scared of thunder?

"Good morning, Mr Darcy." She said as he realised she was standing before him. He glanced out of the window.

"I might disagree with the use of good, Miss Elizabeth." He joked, rubbing his red eyes once more. "Was your room to your liking?" He asked.

"Of course, it was most comfortable." There was an awkward silence between the pair, before Mr Darcy waved his letter in front of Elizabeth's face absentmindedly, showing her the address.

"I wrote to Georgie, Miss Elizabeth. I have told her to join me at Netherfield at her earliest convenience. After the storm has passed, of course." Elizabeth's face split into a wide grin before she remembered that he had initially not wanted Georgie at Netherfield.

"If you will excuse my impertinence, what made you change your mind, Mr Darcy?" She asked.

"You did, Miss Elizabeth." He told her simply. "If you wish to send Georgie a letter, would you like to send it with mine?" he offered.

"Thank you for your kind offer, however, I shall content myself with waiting until Georgiana arrives. Might I ask you why I made you change your mind, Mr Darcy?"

"Ah, you may ask. Though, I may not give you an answer, Miss Elizabeth." He teased, a smile twitching at his lips. She arched an eyebrow at him, and he gave an entirely uncharacteristic smirk back, causing her to giggle slightly. They stood, now in a comfortable silence, until Darcy heard the thunder yet again, and took a sharp intake of breath.

"Mr Darcy, do you not like thunder?" She asked him, entirely relaxed and at ease. How could she be so relaxed, hearing the roll of thunder so close? It was entirely a mystery to Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"No." He said shortly, his voice tightening. He looked into her soft brown eyes, and realised that he sounded rude. "I… Miss Elizabeth, will you sit down?" He asked, gesturing to the same sofa that they had left in an argument the previous night. All he could do was hope to redeem himself in her eyes. She eyed him wearily before sitting down, checking that the door was wide open. Not that he would try anything. "Miss Elizabeth, might I ask for your company for a short while?" He asked, wringing his hands together. She nodded her assent, and he sat opposite her. "I would like to apologise for last night." He said, and was met with silence.

"Why are you afraid of thunder, Mr Darcy? If you do not mind my asking?" He was relieved; a question he could answer.

"Ah. Miss Elizabeth, as I am sure you are aware, both my parents have passed. I… Um…" he began stuttering slightly.

"You need not continue, Mr Darcy, I understand." She told him, taking pity on the man before her. The poor man was forced to be stronger than he was, for his sister and family name, but in truth, he was only a young man. Most men of his age gallivanted about the continent; their fathers still in charge of their estates.

"No, I shall tell you. I am sorry. My parents… Their carriage, upon their return from Matlock… t'was only a short while after Georgie's birth… We were returning to Pemberley, and the conditions were not ideal. Georgie and I were sat in the second carriage, my parents in the first." He paused, and rubbed at his watery eyes, his hand shaking slightly. Elizabeth looked at his downcast eyes, and couldn't help rising from her seat and sitting down next to him, placing her comforting arm on his. "The lighting… it struck their carriage… and I do not know exactly what happened, but my mother… she never made it back to…" he gulped, unable to finish his sentence, for tears threatened to spill over his eyes. He had never told anyone other than Richard such a personal story. But he had to tell Elizabeth; she had to see him as a person, and not some unapproachable monster who disapproved of all those who he met.

"I am sorry…" Elizabeth said, looking almost as upset as himself.

"No, do not be so." He gave her a look. "It feels better, to tell someone… to have someone to talk to." She nodded, and picked up her book, not moving from her position next to him on the sofa. He couldn't help feeling a little gleeful; now she was not so disgusted by him. He picked up his own book, and opened it to the first page.

He could not concentrate on his book. How could he be expected to, with Elizabeth sitting beside him; so close, yet so unattainable. It was as if God was playing a cruel joke on him; he had her comfort, though not in the way he wanted it. Hearing footseps, he glanced towards the door, and the footman nodded. Of course Caroline Bingley would look for him; she always awoke at 11 to do so. Of course, if she ever found him, it should give them an hour without the intervention of Charles, for her to compromise him. He jumped out of the settee and grabbed Elizabeth's arm, none too gently. She let out a small gasp as he opened a hidden door, and pulled them both inside of it. She blushed; had he felt her pulse quicken when he touched her like so? Oh lord, she hoped not.

And without warning, she was pressed against him in a tiny cupboard, feeling the warmth radiating from his body. Her eyes widened.

"Mr Dar-" she started, before feeling a warm finger over her lips. She could barely make out his silhouette in the darkness, but he appeared to be shaking his head. Then she heard the grating tones of Caroline Bingley.

"Charles, is Mr Darcy here?"

"Caroline, how should I know? I am looking for him myself." Mr Bingley replied. Elizabeth could feel Mr Darcy tense slightly beside her, as the footsteps drew closer to where they hid. She was, in fact, holding her own breath.

"Caroline, I do not think Darce would be under the table." The exasperated Mr Bingley said. Elizabeth covered her mouth, to stop her giggle from escaping. What a strange woman, thinking a man such as Mr Darcy would be under the table! Though admittedly, it was nearly as strange as him hiding inside a cupboard.

Darcy opened the cupboard a crack, nudging his friend's back gently. Elizabeth watched as Mr Darcy carefully stuck one of his fingers out of the cupboard, and poked Mr Bingley's back until he finally turned around. She watched, hands cupped over her mouth, as Mr Bingley's eyes widened at the sight of the finger. Mr Darcy carefully manoeuvred his finger, so that it pointed at the door, and a small chuckle escaped him as the look of realisation dawned upon his friend's face.

"Caroline, I do think Darce may already be at breakfast." Bingley said, rather unconvincingly. It was rather good that the man was not an actor. "He… he likes to have his tea at this time, I believe." Their footfalls became more and more distant, and when they could no longer be heard, Darcy pushed open the door, almost spilling out, his breathing heavy. Though his heavy breathing was not because of Miss Bingley… not that Elizabeth should need to know that. Elizabeth daintily side-stepped around him, coming to stand directly in front of his face. Her own face was bright red, as his own probably was, and she looked angry. Yet, all he wanted to do was pull her into him and kiss her until his breath was entirely spent. At least he would die a happy man.

"Mr Darcy, would you care to explain!" Elizabeth whisper-shouted. Oh, how lovely her voice was; her angry frown was beautiful in a way that Darcy could not voice… "Mr Darcy, please, do tell me why you felt it appropriate to do what you just did!" She said, a light blush colouring her cheeks. He instantly realised the impropriety of his actions; whilst he knew that the footman was one of his own from Pemberley, Elizabeth most certainly did not know. The tips of his ears turned bright red, matching his colouring. Unknown to Elizabeth, the great master of Pemberley, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had never been in such close quarters with a woman other than his little sister.

"I… Um… Miss Elizabeth, I am so sorry…"

"Yes, I am sure you are, but why?" Darcy glanced towards the door, not wanting anyone to overhear. He took a single step closer to her, laying a hand on her arm so that she wouldn't step back.

"Caroline Bingley checks this library every single day when she is looking for me, Miss Elizabeth. I am sure you can guess why."

"Yes, I understand why you may want to hide, Mr Darcy, but what was the reason for me to hide?" Elizabeth asked, growing angry at the man in front of her. Who was to say that the footman would not spread gossip? Her reputation was at stake, though his would remain intact. He blushed; there was no good reason for him to have dragged her with him.

"T'was impulsive, Miss Elizabeth." He said. "Do not worry about your reputation; the footman is one of my own from Pemberley, and is well trusted."

Elizabeth let out a small sigh of relief, before sinking back down on the sofa. Darcy scratched his chin nervously as she watched him, feeling slightly awkward under her intense scrutinising stare.

"Mr Darcy, I truly cannot fathom your true character." She told him.

"Oh?" He sat down opposite her, wondering what she could possibly mean.

"I… I truly do not understand you, Mr Darcy!" Oh, how would he ever make her love him if he was so hard to understand?

"What do you not understand?" He asked, concern written across his face.

"Why would you not let Georgie come, Mr Darcy? Why did you not tell her?" She asked, her forehead creased. Darcy's head fell back; she had to ask the one question he did not want to answer. But he had to answer truthfully, else she would never trust him. He stood up rather suddenly and started pacing. Elizabeth watched him pace. He stopped in front of her and looked at her, an intense look in his sapphire eyes. It was all she could do to not avert her own gaze. But she held his gaze, and he started pacing again.

"Miss Elizabeth, you must be aware that Georgie values your friendship very highly." Elizabeth nodded, wondering which direction the conversation would go. "And you must know that I would never wish to dissuade my sister of her friendship with you." Elizabeth nodded, deciding to take his word. He came to a stop directly in front of her. "I…" She raised an eyebrow at him, willing Darcy to continue. His breath hitched, his throat felt dry. Did he have to confess? "Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth." He said, performed a perfunctory bow, before turning and running out of the library. Elizabeth squinted after him. What was he about?

"Johnson!" Darcy hollered, walking into his quarters and slamming the door behind him. "Johnson! Brandy, please, now!" Johnson poured a glass, and handed it his master, who lay on the bed, staring hopelessly at the ceiling.

"Thank you." Darcy sat up, and downed the glass in one gulp, and held it out for another refill.

"Master, is everything fine?" Johnson looked at Darcy in concern. Having known Fitzwilliam since he was only ten, Johnson understood him better than any other. And Fitzwilliam hardly ever drank brandy.

"No, Johnson. Nothing is fine." Darcy drained his cup, and stood up with new conviction, the brandy having entirely erased his nerves. "However, it will be." Fitzwilliam gave his glass back to Johnson and walked back towards the library. He had a woman to make love him, and that would never happen without him being present.