Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading my WIP, Mr. Darcy's Cipher, Book 1 of the Spies and Prejudice series. This book is being shared with the hope and plan of being professionally published in ebook format. Feedback has been awesome!

In this chapter: An apology...of sorts.

Thank Yous: Everyone who reviewed and messaged! So thrilled you loved Jane in the last chapter ~ yay!

As always, I sincerely appreciate your feedback and hope that you enjoy this variation! This is my first Pride and Prejudice book, it is not yet professionally edited, and details within the book may change as the story evolves. With that caveat, I sincerely hope you love reading it as much as I am enjoying writing it (which is a WHOLE LOT!)

Chapter 14

Elizabeth could describe her beginnings at Netherfield Park as discouraging. As she explained her reason for paying such a sudden visit, she was well and truly discomfited by the combined pressure of the Bingleys', Hursts', and Mr. Darcy's attention. Especially Mr. Darcy, whose expression was as cold as ever but somehow made worse by his obvious interest in the state of her soggy hems. Or perhaps it was her face, flushed from the three-mile walk.

Then, upon being guided to Jane's sickbed, Elizabeth's worst fears were brought to life.

Jane was not well. Her skin was pale and shiny with sweat, and her eyes were a pinkish shade, almost as though she had been weeping. She leaned back on a pile of pillows, and as Elizabeth and Miss Bennet walked into the room, Jane took a deep breath, and with visible effort, lifted her head.

Elizabeth ran to her sister's side and took Jane's hands. "You are far sicker than you told us," Elizabeth said.

"I did not want you to worry. The Bingleys are taking wonderful care of me, and I can only be grateful for their hospitality, especially as I have suddenly become a burden. Miss Bingley, you and your family, have my gratitude."

"Miss Bennet is too kind," Miss Bingley said. To Elizabeth's surprise, the woman seemed genuine in her praise. "We have sent for the apothecary, and all that is required for you is that you rest and improve."

Miss Bingley's solicitude softened Elizabeth ill feeling about the woman.

"Lizzie!" Jane took a breath. "I am so glad you are here. I did not wish to where you, but your visit – –." Jane coughed. "It is good to see you."

Mr. Bingley stayed a minute or so longer, and after she had left, Jane was not up to much conversation. She managed "Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have been so kind. And Mr. Darcy – –."

"Mr. Darcy has been kind to you?"

"In his way. I suppose. I took him to task for his treatment of you at the assembly." Jane coughed again, a violent fit that made her wince.

Elizabeth pulled Jane's blanket up to cover her shoulders. "Be quiet and rest."

Jane managed a smile. "But his face – –."

"I do not wish to speak of Mr. Darcy.

Jane nodded, and soon after, her eyes closed, and she slept again.

When breakfast was over, the sisters returned, and Elizabeth grudgingly began to hold them in some regard as they were so solicitous towards Jane. The apothecary came and examine Jane, advising her to return to bed and promising her some draughts.

Jane had little trouble following that advice. As the afternoon progressed, her fever rose, and she complained of a pounding headache. Elizabeth was too concerned about her sister to leave even for a moment, and to her surprise, the other ladies were not often absent; though perhaps it was because with the gentleman being out, they had, in fact, nothing to do.

When the clock struck three, Elizabeth was caught between the necessity for politeness, which required she not impose herself too greatly upon the Bingley household, and her own deep worry for her sister. Finally, and through her own reservations, Elizabeth said, "I should go."

"We can send you in our chaise-," Miss Bingley began, but Jane interrupted her, reaching for Elizabeth.

"Please, do not leave just yet," Jane said. Her face was flushed with fever, and her eyes a bit too bright.

"Then stay you must," Mr. Bingley grudgingly agreed. "I will send word to your family and have them bring back a supply of clothes for you and Jane.

Soon after, Jane fell asleep again, and Elizabeth, leaving her sister in the care of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley for a few moments to relieve herself, stole from the room. Elizabeth returned, and a mere few steps from her sister's room, Elizabeth had the sudden and disturbing feeling someone was watching her. She froze and looked up and down the hall.

Mr. Darcy stood in the shadow of an alcove. He took a step towards her and bowed. "Miss Elizabeth. How fares your sister?"

Was he truly worried about Jane? Elizabeth's initial admonition against stalking about in dark corners like a specter died upon her lips. "Jane's fever persists, but she is sleeping with a bit more ease," Elizabeth explained.

Mr. Darcy nodded.

Why did he stare at her so? His attention was piercing, making her skin flush and tingle. Elizabeth averted her gaze. "I must return to her," she said with a curtsy and started to flee back towards her sister's room.

"Miss Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth hesitated, her hand on the knob. "Mr. Darcy?"

"I – –." He looked almost pained.

"You are not catching ill yourself, are you, Mr. Darcy?"

"I am quite well," Mr. Darcy said. "You are correct. You should tend to your sister." He bowed, and with no further words, turned on his heel and walked rapidly back down the hall in the opposite direction.

Elizabeth shook her head. She could not even manage to feel offended. What an odd man!

At half past six, Elizabeth was summoned to dinner. The Bingleys asked after Jane's health, and Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst immediately exclaimed their sympathy for Jane's condition, remarking how miserable it was to be in the grasp of a violent cold. But their sympathy quickly ebbed. They immediately returned to their own affairs as though Jane, in her sickroom, no longer existed.

Mr. Bingley was the only one of them who seemed truly concerned about Jane's condition for Jane's own sake. Him and perhaps Mr. Darcy, who though he attended politely to Miss Bingley's constant, ill-disguised flirtations, kept looking at Elizabeth. Staring. Elizabeth recognized it was uncharitable for her to take such objection to his merely looking, but he stared so forcefully. She could hardly look up from her plate without feeling his eyes upon her.

Miss Bingley soon took note of Mr. Darcy's attention as well, and her remarks towards Elizabeth became less sympathetic and more barbed.

Mr. Hurst was indolent and offered little conversation, being far more concerned with his meal and the promise later on cards and drink, and so Elizabeth mostly conversed with Mr. Bingley, who was at least congenial and interested in Jane's well-being.

As soon as Elizabeth could, she returned directly to Jane. Considering Miss Bingley's barely concealed annoyance at Mr. Darcy's inexplicable focus on Elizabeth, she had little doubt Miss Bingley would only grow more open in expressing her disapprobation for Elizabeth in her absence.

Blast Mr. Darcy! Even in his silence, he made trouble for her.

Elizabeth could only hope Miss Bingley's dislike of Elizabeth did not influence her brother in regards to Jane. Dear, sweet Jane, who had not even wished to engage in the ruse of pretending her only option for a visit was on horseback, and now suffered the consequences of their mother's machinations.

To Elizabeth's mixed dismay and relief, the sisters returned to Jane's bedside and sat with her until summoned for coffee. Elizabeth was loath to leave her sister's side until late in the evening when Jane finally settled into something more like a restful sleep. Then, Elizabeth resigned herself to the necessity, purely out of politeness, of joining the others downstairs for after dinner entertainment.

Stepping from the room, she looked to either side, fearing Mr. Darcy might be stalking her again, but thankfully the hall was empty. When she reached the drawing room, she found the whole party in the drawing-room and was immediately invited to join them. At the table, sat Mr. Darcy, his face unreadable but still staring, Elizabeth declined, making her sister the excuse, and said she would amuse herself for a short time below, with a book.

Mr. Hurst, with more energy than he had given any reaction the entire day, breathed in sharply through his teeth and asked, "Do you prefer reading to cards?" as though such a thing was an unimaginable tragedy.

"Miss Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, "despises cards. She is a great reader, and more so, and intricate thinker, as I have heard, occupying herself with little more than mathematics and codes."

From where had she heard such a thing? Elizabeth was careful to keep information about her ciphering work within the walls of her home. It was not rumored in such specificity, which meant Miss Bingley must have 'heard' of Elizabeth's deciphering through Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth shot Mr. Darcy a glare, which was about as effective as giving pointed looks to a sheet of glass for the effect it seemed to have on the dratted man.

"I deserve neither such praise nor such censure," Elizabeth argued. "It is true I sometimes aid my father in penning his correspondence, but that is hardly the same thing as occupying myself exclusively with coding or literature or any particular interest." Elizabeth's protestation tasted like ashes in her mouth. Why was it she could not take proper credit for her own work?

Of course, such a thing was impossible. She was already at a disadvantage by not having a dowry of substance nor being born of a particularly esteemed family. A woman's only reliable method for advancement was securing a husband, and such a rumor of eccentricity in combination with Elizabeth's other failings would surely sink what prospects she had.

"Now Caroline, your words are unfair," said Mr. Bingley, and Elizabeth felt a sharp sense of gratitude and affection for him. "Miss Elizabeth clearly takes great pleasure in being of caring for her family, and I hope it will be soon increased by seeing Miss Bennet quite well again."

Elizabeth thanked Mr. Bingley with much enthusiasm and walked towards the table with the books were lying.

"If those are not to your satisfaction," Mr. Bingley said, "I can have others fetched from the library. I wish my collection were larger for your benefit in my own credit, but I am more for riding than reading, and though my library is small, I have not yet finished working through my collection."

Elizabeth assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with the books in the room. Unfortunately, it was not enough to sit quietly, flip through a book, and have the others leave her be. Miss Bingley, sensing an opportunity to flatter Mr. Darcy and express her own interest in both literature and Mr. Darcy's property, exclaimed, "What a delightful library you have at Pemberley, Mr. Darcy!"

They spoke for a while longer on libraries, Miss Bingley attempting, presumably, to get Elizabeth to make some mention of her family's own so that it could be remarked upon, until finally, Elizabeth gave up on reading altogether and set herself between Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Hurst to observe the game.

Elizabeth felt it best she not be dealt into the game as her improper interest in mathematics and codes allowed her a good facility at predicting probabilities and winning more than she lost. She would not be able to hide her skills when playing Mr. Darcy, nor would she want to. Taking Mr. Darcy down a peg would be too satisfying, even if it ultimately became only a Pyrrhic victory.

"Is Miss Darcy much grown since the spring?" asked Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth's interest was immediately peaked. Though she had read Miss Darcy's correspondence, and worse, recently written to the young woman herself, she hardly knew anything about Miss Georgiana Darcy beyond she was the younger sister of Mr. Fitzwilliam and Reginald Darcy.

Miss Bingley continued, "Will she be as tall as I am?"

Mr. Darcy responded, "I think she will. She is about now Miss Elizabeth Bennet's height, or rather taller." Mr. Darcy was staring at Elizabeth again.

Elizabeth, not one to back down, met his gaze squarely. Whatever problems he had with her, she hoped he would express it to her sooner rather than later, else she be subjected to yet more discomfort through his silent regard.

"How I long to see her again!" Miss Bingley fanned out her cards and leaned forward, inclining her body towards Mr. Darcy as she spoke. "I never met with anyone who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! Her performance on the pianoforte is exquisite."

"Has Miss Darcy expressed much interest in books or codes?" Elizabeth asked.

Mr. Bingley pursed her lips. "Of course she is well read, but of codes, it would not have occurred to me to ask."

"Oh!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I had assumed you had some special interest in such topics as you had made such effort to unearth such topics concerning myself.

"One hears all sorts of things while conversing with new acquaintances," Miss Bingley said, her tone syrupy sweet. "I did not mean to trouble you."

Elizabeth smiled brightly. "Trouble me? Not at all! I take pride in helping my father, and my family, as best I can."

Five cards were dealt, and glancing over Mr. Bingley's shoulder, Elizabeth saw he had an excellent hand. He stared at the cards, moving on from the left to the center, and Elizabeth realized he did not know it. He moved to lower his arm, as though to abandon the cards, and Elizabeth murmured, "Stay."

"What was that, Miss Bennet?" Miss Bingley asked.

"I believe I shall play this hand," Mr. Bingley interjected.

"Very good," said Mr. Hurst."

Miss Bingley, sensing the conversation was moving away from her, said, "Miss Darcy is so very accomplished for her age!"

"It is amazing to me," said Bingley, "how young ladies can have the patience to be so very accomplished in so many ways, as they all are."

All young ladies accomplished! My dear Charles, what do you mean?"

"Precisely as I said. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely have such skills, and I have never heard of a young lady spoken of, the first time at least, without being informed that she was indeed, very accomplished."

"Your list of the common extent of accomplishments," said Darcy, "has too much truth. Any woman can be trained to accomplish common things, but I am very far for agreeing with your estimation."

Elizabeth, unable and frankly unwilling to hold her tongue, remarked, "Does this mean Mr. Darcy's judge of a lady's accomplishment has more to do with her mastery of the uncommon?"

"Most certainly," said Mr. Darcy. "No one can really be esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass the usual. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, and besides all of this, she must possess certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be little deserved."

It was fortunate Elizabeth felt no need to try and live up to Mr. Darcy's standards. She doubted he would ever discover a woman who could meet his expectations.

"All of this she must possess," added Darcy, as though all of this was not more than enough, "and to that she must yet add something more substantial in the improvement of her mind."

Elizabeth could not help but laugh. "I am certain it will be delightful when you meet such a paragon."

Miss Bingley, seizing upon Elizabeth statement with the same gleeful expression of the cat capturing a mouse in its teeth, asked, "Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of this?"

Outside of a children's tale, for certain.

Elizabeth refused to relent on her perfectly reasonable assertion, "I can only say that I have never seen such a woman. But should I meet her, I will endeavor to be more than suitably impressed."

Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley cried out against the injustice Elizabeth's statement, both protesting that they knew many such women. Elizabeth surmised their insistence came mostly from a high self-opinion. Miss Bingley certainly presented herself as one who believed oneself in every way accomplished.

Miss Bingley turned to Mr. Darcy for support, which in Elizabeth's mind seemed like a terrible idea, and said, "Certainly, you have made acquaintance with such women as well."

"I have met six," Mr. Darcy said, offering no further elaboration. With that, the conversation came to an end.

Elizabeth soon afterward gratefully returned to her sister's sickbed. Her natural good humor reasserted herself as she imagined her sister's reaction to the entire affair. She only prayed Jane's health would improve quickly enough for her to thoroughly admonish Elizabeth for her impropriety.

After some time, the three firm raps sounded on Jane's door.

"Come in," Elizabeth said, glancing at Jane who thankfully remained asleep.

To her shock, Mr. Darcy opened the door. He left the door ajar and barely crossed the threshold into the room. "Miss Elizabeth," he said.

Too flummoxed to manage anything intelligent or accomplished, Elizabeth said, "Mr. Darcy?"

"I misspoke. At the assembly, in my remark about your appearance."

Elizabeth was still too confused to do more than nod.

Mr. Darcy took a breath, his posture and manner as stiff and cold as a granite statue. "You are more than passably handsome. Not that I have any regard whatsoever for your looks. But it is fair to you are near as handsome as her sister. That is all."

Was that all? Yes, he was staring again, silently awaiting—what, a word of thanks? The gall of him. The unmitigated gall!

"That is all?" Elizabeth snapped. "This day, every moment you cross my path, you are stalking about and staring like some – – ghostly menace! And now, you invade my sister's sickroom with declarations of insult, in all manner a self-proclaimed Emperor. 'Not that you have any regard for my looks!' Not that I have ever wished you to have such regard, but now I must narrow down your intention. Am I near as handsome as my sister when she dances? Or is it when she lays abed in the midst of a violent fever?"

Mr. Darcy opened his mouth as though to respond, but Elizabeth was too caught up in her own temper to have any wish to hear him. "You may give yourself accord to declare me unaccomplished, as though winning some measure of your regard, however infinitesimal, is a mark of accomplishment! If you believe so, you are very much mistaken."

"My words were meant as an apology!"

"Apology?" Elizabeth laughed. "If so, you ought to make more effort in the attempt. Was there anything else? Is there a wart on my chin that I have overlooked? Or perhaps my breath is foul?"

"No." Mr. Darcy took a step back, and after a moment, bowed. "I take my leave," he said.

Elizabeth gave him no further acknowledgment, turning her attention to Jane, who had begun to whimper and twitch, perhaps caught in the throes of a fevered nightmare. Elizabeth felt much the same. Her skin was hot, and her body shook with fury.

She prayed at that moment for Jane's health not only out of pure sisterly regard but also with the hope Jane would be well enough to return home before she had to endure another apology from Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy will ask your hand in marriage. Twice.

The fortune teller had clearly been mad. Never mind a proposal. Elizabeth would be glad to live the rest of her life without ever having a single conversation with Mr. Darcy again.

XYXYXYXYX

Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter cracked up up at least as much as it did me. Don't worry, we are reaching a turning point in this story for Lizzie and Darcy's relationship, and things will soon be going in a more positive direction there. Next chapter will be up soon with some much needed self reflection from Mr. Darcy, and maybe a change?

As always, suggestions and accolades are both much LOVE in reviews (and PMs.)

Best,

Violet