I'm finally back. I don't know what it is about beds, but whenever D&E get near one they seem to be stuck there for months

Thank you to all of the readers who have contacted me while I was away from writing. I'd like to thank myshlp as always for being my little cheerleader and giving me the kick up the bum I need to write when I'm out of contact for too long.

This chapter is quite a talky one, so, while you'll get a lot of insight into what the hell Mr. Darcy has been thinking, there isn't much progress in terms of time, or even getting out of the room. But this chapter is sort of a recap on the major events between Elizabeth and Darcy through their explanations.

As always I welcome your feedback. Reviews are like a drug to me. Everyone says it, but they really do make writing the story easier and (dare I be a bit manipulative and say) speedier.

For those who have been wondering, this is not the last chapter in the story and it will be 25 chapters long altogether, so if you don't feel you can do with any more complications for Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy perhaps you had better read no further. For the rest of you, enjoy.

Recap

After meeting Mr. Darcy at Netherfield while walking close to Pemberley, Elizabeth Bennet takes him up on his offer to visit the house. While there, she visits the library and, over a reading of Blake's poetry and after a flirty chase through Pemberleys halls, they make love in his bed. She accepts his renewed offer of marriage and they both break down crying.

Chapter 20

Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy were so closely entwined on the bed that one's waking immediate roused the other. They embraced still, not yet ready to give up this moment of repose.

Mr. Darcy could feel the tracks of his own tears dried on his cheeks, and felt foolish now that the immediacy of the emotion was behind him. He was still nestled in Elizabeth Bennet's bosom and was not eager to leave it: he neither wanted to separate from her bounteous flesh, nor to face her after his unseemly descent into mawkishness. Thank goodness Elizabeth had not seen his face crumpled in anguish, though her own sobs soon after had assured him that she shared in his distress.

He did, however, feel brighter after his nap, knowing that Elizabeth had finally relieved his misery and agreed to take him, despite the schism that remained unresolved between them.

When he rolled off of her with a grunt to check the time, Mr. Darcy delighted in Elizabeth's immediately clinging to his side, her head pillowed on his arm. She looked up at him through sleepy eyes and smiled. He imagined her glance to be an oeillade, but did not yet feel confident in his intuition (1).

Elizabeth could not say that she felt bright. She was bewildered by their sudden engagement and the awkwardness of their flagrant pose on the bed, but had felt oddly comfortable in spite of this, as she had reached consciousness. She now rubbed his smooth sides—on which she was quickly becoming fixated—tracing the subtle hump of every rib. She said into his chest, when she had plucked up the courage, "I want to hear a story."

Mr. Darcy responded with a raised brow, angling his neck to try and catch her eye.

"Tell me about your love for me," she requested plainly, successfully avoiding his eye until after she had spoken.

Elizabeth did not exactly doubt Mr. Darcy's love, after all that he had endured to get her, but she wanted to know what he was thinking, during those dark days at Netherfield and what he had thought of her actions ever since.

With a sigh, he looked up at the ceiling and Elizabeth did not know if he would refuse to speak of it—such diffidence would not surprise her, from such a private man. Nor from a man on whose heart she had only a few months ago trampled. They had agreed to come together forever, and still there were walls between them.

"Is it the story of my love, or my lust that you wish to hear; because the latter is a much simpler story, though much more painful to recount. The two are so interwoven that I cannot tell you where one ended and the other began; I cannot fix on the hour, or the look that made me fall in love with you, nor the words which laid the foundation for my fascination."

"I am glad that you did eventually fall in love with me, but the two are not mutually exclusive, you know: I don't believe your lust has entirely forsaken you," Elizabeth quipped, "but even that is a mystery to me, since you so publically withstood my beauty. And as for my manners—if I had been welcoming they might have encouraged your attachment—but as it is, I was positively spiteful."

"Maidenly reluctance with a touch of irreverence —or so I chose to interpret it… You must have thought me very foolish for not seeing your true feelings."

"I don't think your lapse in discernment was due to any want of intelligence—wishful thinking, perhaps?"

"And what of my actions: can you attribute those to so benign a cause?"

"I have no wish to excuse your actions, merely to understand them. Besides, I did not acquit myself with any grace either—up to and including my behaviour on the day of your proposal at Hunsford.

"I knew, by then, of your affections and I disregarded them," Elizabeth spoke more seriously. "I was inexcusably rude, and I should never have lured you into further relations. So you see you cannot have all the shame to yourself, Mr. Darcy. I cannot have you taking my share."

She really was ashamed of her part in their affair, but she could not bring herself to feel too badly about their past at this moment. He had apologised and so had she; and now they were to be married. Elizabeth was far enough removed from the evil events that she did not feel she should give any more weight to it than that.

"You may easily speak with such levity," Mr. Darcy responded, "but I cannot be so easily reconciled with myself. The recollection of what I then said and did—of my conduct, my manners, my expressions during the whole of our early acquaintance—is now, and has been many months, inexpressibly painful to me.

"Your reproof, so justified, I shall never forget: 'the most arrogant and censorious man of my acquaintance,' you called me. You know not how I have been tortured by your pronouncement that I had never shown any love for you and had taken advantage of your innocence."

"Please do not repeat what I said then. I assure you that I have long been heartily ashamed of it."

"You were right. Every act, every thought was for my own benefit and relief, without regard to your feelings or reputation."

"I had no idea that my words would be taken in such a way," Elizabeth now regretted bringing up the topic at all, as it was evidently yet too fresh for him to begin to forgive himself.

"In the library that day…I will not attempt to justify what I did with my own delusions: I convinced myself that I was doing no harm—even that I was doing good—if you can believe that.

"A stray intelligence from some unknown recess of my memory; that word I scarcely knew that I knew—hysteria (2). It came from some forgotten...some damned book or other and it allowed me to label my molestation charity and nullify your wishes. Know that I no longer believe that I was doing anything but violating you that morning in the library.

"If you are agreeable, I will not dwell any longer on my iniquities that day, other than to say that I am deeply remorseful. What I did; it was unforgivable and I cannot quite believe that you could ever pardon me."

"I took your lack of a violent reaction for consent," Darcy continued, "your physical arousal, for permission, because it allowed me to convince myself that my accosting you was in your best interests." He was almost compulsive now, in his need to unburden himself of his guilty deeds.

"My timing was obscene. The shock of your father's death put you in an almost catatonic state and I used that for my own ends."

Elizabeth had felt no anger in asking him to explain himself, but as he made his account, she was reminded of the pain that had accompanied their acquaintance before this week and, in particular, the aching recollection of how it had tainted and intruded on her grief for her father.

She moved on to her back and studied the brocaded canopy of Mr. Darcy's bed as she contemplated the damage that The Incident in the Library had done to her peace of mind; affecting her even to this day. Mr. Darcy's arm lay beneath her, but she no longer sought further physical connection to him as she mulled over her tangled emotions.

"You seemed pretty unrepentant when we discussed the subject last April," she finally said. Elizabeth was surprised at her own bitterness. She had thought that it had been rubbed away—gently, but persistently—since her arrival in Derbyshire; she had been joking with him only moments before.

She was detaching from him, Darcy could feel it, both in body and mind. He would not make the mistake of clinging to her. He would not force her to keep her word and marry him, but neither could he live with himself if he did not do his utmost to convey to her the profundity of his remorse and the fundamental revolution that she had affected on his character. He sighed heavily.

"It wasn't until I returned to London and saw Georgiana again for the first time since our argument—after writing your letter and re-living that ordeal—that I contemplated my actions from another point of view.

"I had the disturbing realisation that I had acted towards you just as Mr. Wickham had towards my sister; that I was worse, because I had convinced myself, not only that I was in the right, but that I was the injured party."

He shivered at the memory of his own actions and closed his eyes tightly. It was difficult for Elizabeth to sustain her anger with Mr. Darcy when he berated himself far more thoroughly than she could at that moment. And she was mildly vexed by it. She did, however, have questions that she would have answered.

"You have at different times implied that I am wanton for engaging in this affair. You once apologised for voicing these thoughts, but have never denied them. What is your true opinion of me?" She looked him square in the face, daring him to prevaricate. Fortunately, he was in no humour to do anything of the sort and too eager to placate her to risk her ire through falsehoods.

"Any censure of your actions, or implication that your desires were exceptionable, was nothing but a reflection of my struggles with my own lust and an attempt to blame you for my weaknesses. You have never done, nor could you do anything that would shake my regard for your person, which is of the highest order."

Before she could interject, Mr. Darcy continued his address.

"You are the most naturally bewitching woman I have ever met. Your wit and integrity were immediately obvious to me and you were the first woman to ever show me what it could be to have a partner rather than a dependent for a wife, before I thought that such a thing was preferable, or even possible.

"My love for you has endured every possible obstacle, from my own sabotage to the unequivocal and justified rejection from the object of my deepest affections. It is keen enough that I will not hold you to your previous acceptance of my offer, gratifying as it was to hear, and heartfelt as my offer was and still is. If you do not feel that marrying me would constitute your happiness, I shall not hold you to it."

Elizabeth watched him breathing heavily after his rushed speech in an effort to counteract the rising panic abetted by his own invitation of her rejection. His Adam's apple bobbed repeatedly and as she watched his vulnerability openly on display, she remembered. She remembered the insight his letter had given her, her discussion with Jane regarding Darcy's behaviour and the intentions behind it, and all that had occurred since her re-acquaintance with Mr. Darcy. She remembered that he had shown her nothing but tenderness, and her family, nothing but respect, since coming across them at Pemberley. His offer to release her from their betrothal and his willingness to shed his mask and bear himself as an open wound to her, was entirely in keeping with Mr. Darcy's character as she now understood it.

"You are not like Mr. Wickham," she sighed in resignation, referencing his previous point for want of any good response to his compliments, or his offer to part. "You have done wrong, but you did not make false promises to me, or seek to profit from association with me. You wished, in a misguided way, to help and satisfy me—to care for me, even, while also meeting some need of your own in trying to maintain control over yourself by controlling me. You were wrong—most decidedly wrong—but your motives were not wholly bad and you did the right thing in the end. You have also faced up to your faults and have forgiven me mine, which Mr. Wickham would never do. Rather than shower me with compliments, he would think the worst of me in your situation and enjoy doing it. Neither would he jeopardise his own happiness for the sake of another."

She had not replied to his offer to break the engagement and Mr. Darcy did not want to further the topic, for fear of reminding her of plans which were not to his purpose—he would respect her decision, if she were to leave him, but he was not going to offer himself up again for her annihilation. He was no saint!

"Worse than all that I have done," said Mr. Darcy, determined to flagellate himself further, despite Elizabeth's efforts to forgive him, "is that I convinced myself that, because I had never done anything like that before, that the break in my usual restraint was proof that my response to you, so visceral and overpowering, was beyond my control. I felt that I should not be held to the same principles as a man not under your spell."

Elizabeth resisted the powerful urge to query what exactly he meant by 'never having done anything like that before': he was entitled to his privacy and she firmly believed that his past life was not her business. She knew enough of men's habits to wish that she did not.

Darcy continued his confession, oblivious to her discomfort on that subject. "I thought that I had exposed my vulnerability in showing you any attention at all and that the fact that I was willing to do that was proof of our connection—a connection that would indicate that I wasn't taking advantage of you." He shook his head at his own foolishness: a connection entirely of his own imagining.

"I have never before or since felt that I had brought such shame to my family name and squandered my father's faith in me, which he was so good to impress on me with his dying words. That I have failed him so terribly is something that I will have to live with and can never undo."

"Why did you leave Netherfield?" Elizabeth asked. She knew that she was provoking and upsetting him in continuing this conversation, but she wanted to have nothing left unearthed between them.

"I was scared. Every time I saw you, I had such a profound desire to throw myself at your feet and beg you to take me to your bed that it petrified me and I knew I had to leave or ruin you."

What power she had wielded and had never, until now, fully understood. What could she have done with such power if she had been more grasping or less decent? She was inclined to now agree with Jane in pitying the man who had left Hunsford last April, the man who was spurned by the woman he had had, and come to love, but could not keep.

"And when did you decide that you wanted to marry me?" she asked, remembering that he had not yet mentioned more than the desire to take her to bed.

"When I first saw you at Rosings, I was annoyed that you had come back to taunt me, but you enchanted me once again." He began twisting one of Elizabeth's curls around his finger absentmindedly as he spoke. "Within a sevennight, I could no longer countenance leaving Rosings without you and going back to life as it had been. When I saw you flirting with Colonel Fitzwilliam, I knew I could never bear to see you wed another man."

"I was not flirting!" After a withering look from Mr. Darcy, "Well, perhaps a little; but there was nothing in it; and that did not give you the right to sow dissent and convince each that they had injured the other."

"No, that was not my finest hour. Colonel Fitzwilliam was none too pleased with me either. I did not explain myself to him, but I think he realised well enough the reasons for my odd behaviour. If we had not been so close and if he had not suspected my feelings for you, I think he would have called me out after seeing your reception of my letter. That was petty of me, by the by—not to deliver it to you myself. And he has been very cool with me ever since. So, you see, I did pay for my deceit."

"Excellent. You faced the consequences, which is the greatest deterrent from re-offending. Not to mention that you are a terrible liar. So you should think better of such a scheme in future."

Mr. Darcy could see that Elizabeth was calming, returning to her natural levity, but she was not a simple woman and her interactions were often layered, with a veneer of outward good humour and impertinent wit cloaking more unpleasant feelings underneath. He could not be sure of her final clemency just yet.

"Perhaps it is because I am so blind to others' motivations and wishes that I cannot lie convincingly. I did not even consider, in my vanity, that you would refuse my proposal."

"That must have only multiplied your disappointment. You were very angry when you left my cousin's house."

"I was an ass. But yes, I was—though more hurt than angry—and even that soon turned towards a more rightful target."

Darcy then mentioned his letter. "Did it," said he "did it make you think any better of me?"

"Its initial effect was to make me think poorer of Mr. Wickham. I never doubted that part of the story. I cannot say that all of my prejudices and grievances were removed, but on reading your account of your sister's troubles, and seeing your worry and affection for her, I began to feel that there could be another side to your character which I had previously overlooked. In doing so, I saw that perhaps there was some justice to your other claims, particularly with regards to my family's situation and Bingley's inconstancy."

The one claim to which Elizabeth had never fully reconciled herself, despite Mr. Darcy's compelling argument was that he was justified in not doing more to convince Bingley that Jane loved him. She could not, for her sister's sake, accept that her abandonment could be explained by the simple fact that Bingley had not loved her enough.

"If you knew of his suffering these last months, you would not call Bingley inconstant. He is merely guilty of extreme humility and lack of confidence in his own judgement. His disappointment has only been ameliorated by his being at liberty to bombard me with his thoughts and gain succour, as he does from such talk, in a way that I have not been free or eager to reciprocate."

"And where has Mr. Bingley gone now?" Elizabeth asked.

"On the evening of his party's arrival, I made a confession to him which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of my mistake in evaluating your sister's feelings for him and my certain knowledge of Miss Bennet's distress at his leaving Netherfield. His surprise was great, as was his anger towards his sisters, who he now knows lied audaciously."

"Did he not wonder how you came by this information?"

"Not at first—he was so shocked and delighted to hear it, but at length, he did begin to wonder. I managed to prevaricate, though, and he became distracted by the realisation of his sisters' deception. He may suspect something between us, but there was not another chance to discuss it."

"So your proficiency in deception has increased? I'm not sure if that is a skill I would like you to cultivate."

"If the height of my ability is to deceive a distracted and lovesick Bingley, than I doubt you have anything to fear," Mr. Darcy replied, glad to see her joking once again.

"He has taken the whole family to Scarborough, where he intends to deposit them before leaving for Netherfield."

"Then, perhaps I may not be the only betrothed Bennet for long."

Darcy could not answer through the inane smile that spread slowly across his face. It was the first time that she had said the word: betrothed, they were truly betrothed! Still betrothed! She had been given the opportunity to renege on her promise and she had chosen to stay.

Elizabeth smiled directly back at him for the first time since their discussion had begun and it was too much to bear. Mr. Darcy buried his head in her hair, nuzzling her in thanks for her acceptance, once again, of his touch and his suit.

They made love once more, the risk of detection and their recent quarrel lending an edge to their otherwise gentle coupling. Their bodies rocked together with the rhythm of a gentle swell, occasionally disturbed by the spasm of one body or another in a moment of rapturous surrender.

Mr. Darcy was still joined with her, kissing and nibbling Elizabeth's plump skin, when the dressing room door burst open in the unconcerned manner of a man clearly not expecting to meet anyone on the other side.

Elizabeth had never felt as mortified as she did on witnessing Murray, Mr. Darcy's valet entering the room, holding a waistcoat and brush. He stopped dead when he noticed the couple wrapped in both each other and the bed clothes, under which they had thankfully retired some time ago. His eyes froze on Elizabeth in an initial flustered reaction. Thankfully they did not tarry for long, but he recognised her—she knew he did.

The man was older than Darcy, but certainly not elderly, and her mortification was extreme at the idea that another man should see her in the manner in which none but her fiancé had before. Rather than run from the room, as she would have done, Murray then met his master's astonished gaze with a steely glare of his own, inconceivably bald for a servant.

Mr. Darcy did not miss the implied censure, even as he sought to wrap himself completely around Elizabeth, to shade her from the servant's view.

Eventually he gathered his wits enough to cry, "Good God Murray! Out man! And close the door behind you." The valet finally did so, his every movement broadcasting his displeasure and disappointment.

Elizabeth was in shock. Mr. Darcy dropped his head over her shoulder and onto the pillow chuckling in embarrassment. It was through his jerking movements as his whole body shook with laughter that Elizabeth realised—Mr. Darcy was still sheathed inside her and had been the entire time that Mr. Murray had been in the room!

"Oh God!" she muttered covering her eyes with her arm and the pair sniggered together.

The mood had been broken and it was not long after that that they decided to get up. The beautiful summer's day was waning and Elizabeth would need to leave before Mr. Darcy's guests returned. They helped each other to dress and Mr. Darcy began to regret being so thorough in disrobing Elizabeth when he had to replace her corset and hook every eye.

She had the presence of mind to straighten the bedclothes before they left. As she was fussing with the counterpane, Mr. Darcy leaned over her shoulder from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

"Please do not fret over Murray, my love."

My love. The phrase thrilled her, even as much as it frightened her to hear it.

"He will not expose us. He is just disappointed in me. I mentioned to you once that he aided me in gaining access to your room at Netherfield, but I never told you that his collusion cost me days of icy silences at the dressing table. He even attempted to dissuade me from following through with my plan that night. Would that he had succeeded," he muttered remembering the setting down he had then received from her.

"He has been with me since I began university and takes great pride in his work. He had thought that he had navigated me through the most trying years—when a boy is apt to form degenerate habits as he grows into a man—only to find that at the ripe old age of twenty seven, I was becoming a libertine and now had designs on a genteel young woman—a guest in my own friend's household.

"You would not believe the speed with which he packed when I told him that I was leaving Netherfield: I believe he imagined that he had done great work in managing to extricate me from you with both of our reputations intact."

Mr. Darcy kissed her on the head and took her hand, guiding her towards the door. "He will not say a word—and certainly not to me; not for some time."

"Will he be pleased or appalled, do you think, when he learns that we are to marry?"

After a moment's consideration Mr. Darcy replied, "Murray was very concerned for your welfare at Netherfield and he will feel relieved on your behalf, especially after what he witnessed today. He will be glad to know that my intentions are honourable, and delighted to see that my devotion to you is far deeper than the selfish lust he saw in me at Netherfield."

Yes, Elizabeth mused, contemplating, not just his valet's anticipated pleasure at their betrothal, but that of her general acquaintance. For what more could any woman want, than a man who loves her?

Footnotes

1) Oeillade: a glance of the eye in flirtation.

2) The term hysteria as seen in the title of this story was used to describe a disease characterised by a variety of symptoms that were exclusive to women, one of which was sexual desire. Yes, as odd as it seems, for hundreds, if not thousands of years a woman wanting to have sex was seen as a disease. Other symptoms included nervousness, faintness, insomnia, the desire to stretch, feeling cold and the urge to cry or laugh immoderately. In the 19th century, women went to gynaecologists who administered 'treatments' not unlike Mr. Darcy has done in this story. This basically involved masturbating the woman to climax to release the 'female semen', which was believed to become venomous if not released through intercourse or climax.

https[colon forward slash forward slash] /wiki/Female_hysteria

Although the treatment of hysteria is more commonly associated with the Victorian era, Rachel Maines has posited that, as hysteria was associated with the sexual organs from the classical era, doctors from that time to the 20th century commonly treated it through masturbation. I imagine that Mr. Darcy found some reference to it in his massive library.

3) During my general research I found this article analysing the characters of Pride and Prejudice in relation to the Myers Briggs Type Indicators: (http[colon forward slash forward slash double-u x3 dot] ).

For those who are unfamiliar with MBTI, it analyses a personality based on Carl Jung's theory and categorises them into 16 different groups based on their position on four continua: extrovert/introvert; intuitive/observant; thinking/feeling; and judging/prospecting. See 16personalities.c0m for more info.

The jasna article argued that Darcy is in the INFJ group: that is introverted (duh), intuitive (abstract rather than concrete oriented), thinking (prioritising logic over feeling), and judging (decisive and seeking structure and order, not wanting to keep options open). There is pretty much universal agreement with this conclusion, from what I've read, but Elizabeth is a bit more difficult to categorise.

The same article claims her to be INFJ, differing from Darcy's group only in that she is feeling oriented. The idea that they are so similar may be initially jarring, but they display a lot of similar tendencies, albeit manifesting themselves in different ways.

While Darcy is the classic introvert, the most debated aspect of Elizabeth's character is her introversion and she is often wrongly characterised as extrovert. This mistakes introversion for lack of social skills. Though they are related, introversion actually refers to an inward focus of energy. Introverts expend energy in social situations, rather than gaining energy from them. This explains Elizabeth's love of solitary walks: though she enjoys social interaction and is comfortable in society, she is often self-reflective and her walks allow her the space to analyse her feelings. She is actually quite guarded and really only bares herself to Jane.

Her study of character shows her intuitive side—trying to fit others' words and actions into a pattern—as does her engagement in hypothetical arguments with Darcy at Netherfield. Their shared intuitive traits are what allow Darcy and Elizabeth to challenge each other intellectually.

Elizabeth's feeling orientation may be best demonstrated by her refusal of Darcy at Hunsford and Darcy's thinking orientation prevents him from predicting her refusal. As an aside, I don't think that we, as a modern audience, fully understand the folly Elizabeth demonstrated in refusing Darcy. When she asks Jane if she thinks badly of her for it, it's not just an idle question. Any right thinking person who was any way prudent would have thought that she was crazy for refusing him. I don't think we can conceive of the fear of destitution and the value placed on stability in a world where even the most basic physical needs were not guaranteed and a gentlewoman had no way to ever earn her own money. I read an excellent article on this topic once, but I couldn't find it when I went back and googled it.

Elizabeth and Darcy's judging functions—their rush to judgement on the world around them—is what gets them into trouble in the story.

As my interest was piqued, I took the test online myself and it turns out that I'm an INTJ, just like Darcy. That would explain why I find it much easier to write him than Elizabeth. I then did the test on my boyfriend and he turned out to be INFJ, so we are the gender swap equivalent of D&E!

A lot of fictional villains are INTJ, so I feel a bit better about my more extreme Darcy, who many believe is OOC, but all this has got me thinking about how I've been writing Elizabeth. Perhaps she is even more OOC than Darcy, too calculating and cold, with not enough compassion? Let me know what you think (If anyone is still reading).

More detailed profiles of D&E's MBTI can be found here (http[colon forward slash forward slash] .c0m/post/32460673648/mr-darcy)and here(http[colon forward slash forward slash] .c0m/search/elizabeth+bennet).

As I mentioned earlier in the comments, I've had a number of other ideas for other P&P fics mulling around in my head: one where Elizabeth is married to Mr. Collins and another time-travelling story, so I look forward to using what I've learned from their profiles to stretch the characters in these new situations.