Chapter 37: Reminisce

Will Darcy stepped out of his Austrian factory and into the blistering cold, wrapping his coat tightly around him as he briskly ducked into the waiting limo. Blowing on his hands once inside, he wondered if he was feeling the effects of the European cold spell more strongly than usual due to his somewhat recent return from the Dominican Republic – a place so stiflingly hot that his early exit from the country had done nothing to quell the ability for his blood to boil at the memory of it. In fact, his resentment of the suffocating humidity was so strong that the extreme cold he now found himself in was almost comforting in comparison; on more than one occasion, Will had found himself wishing that the frigid air would just finish the job…that it would reach into his very core and turn his heart to ice. Maybe then - if frost instead of blood coursed through his veins - the fire burning in his mind would be extinguished, and the ache in his soul would finally go numb.

Of course, in his more rational moments, he knew that the memory of sweltering, unbearable heat had more to do with a certain woman than the actual country. Unwilling to confront his torment once more, he instead closed his eyes and forced himself to recall the fleeting bliss he had experienced at her side. The level of friendship they had eventually found with each other. The delightful sound of her laugh as she had teased him in the pool that night, and how it made him want to simply wrap her in his arms and gaze up at the stars. The way his pulse had raced while holding her close and intimately moving to a song called Obsession; a word that, if it didn't exactly describe his feelings for her, most certainly reflected their level of intensity. (The song had found a home on his iPod ever since.) And of course, the cave. The feel of her lips, the curves of her body, the scent of her glistening skin. The sensation of two hearts pounding in unison and bodies gripped tightly in the intoxicating anticipation of erotic discovery; a moment so tantalizingly on the precipice of everything he had desired that its failure to culminate was almost enough to drive him insane.

It was nearly a month since he had last seen or heard of her, their last point of contact being the tortuously written letter he had slid under her door before escaping entirely via a hastily booked flight. It would have been too painful to stay – unbearable, even - to remain knowing how she felt about him, her presence an agonizing daily reminder of his disappointed hopes. He had opened himself up to her far more than he had intended - more than he ever had to any other woman - and the effort had proved itself both futile and meaningless. Elizabeth hated him, she had made that clear enough; the only question left to answer was how he could have possibly misinterpreted every single interaction they had ever shared – how he could have allowed himself to fall so completely under her spell when, according to her, his feelings had never had any chance of reciprocation.

A month later and he still hadn't found closure; thinking through their interactions only became the source of more pain and confusion. God, the woman drove him mad. He had been so sure…so certain that she was as equally drawn to him as he was to her, so confident that she would be excited to discover his feelings for her. However, every time he felt justified that he had found an example of some semblance of regard on her part, a more thorough review would leave him questioning his own observations. Even the almost kiss in the salsa club; had she not made a hasty escape after the interruption occurred, insisting that he stay behind without her? Her own words would then leap from the recesses of his mind to confirm his conclusion: how dare you assume that I've been longing for you? That I would be ready to jump in your arms at a moment's notice? From the moment I met you I knew that you had a big ego, but even I had not imagined this. I'm not even sorry to disappoint you.

What else could be said? He was wrong. His pride in his principles - in who he was as a man - had misled him into believing that she could only want him as much as he desired her. It had seemed so natural to love her; a task that had never come easy to him before, even with the many women vying to be the jewel at his side (an image of Caroline Bingley and her preening flitted through is mind). Why couldn't Elizabeth just be like the rest of them, wanting him with very little inducement or invitation? In a moment, the painful answer twisted its way to the surface…if she had been like the others, he never would have fallen in love with her. It was precisely that: her independence, her unique way of interacting with the world that had firmly captured his heart; it was just…bad luck that the same lively spirit didn't feel equally drawn to his own. She was absolutely right, he had assumed too much; the only thing to do now was to find a way to forget her, even as he felt his heart continue to bleed out.

He grimaced as he again thought about the hastily written letter he had left her. A moment of weakness had spurred its creation, and he could only hope that she would finally believe him regarding Wickham, because he was fairly certain that the rest of it only had the ability of making her despise him further. The anger he had felt when his pen hit the paper was so intense that he could barely make out the words as they flowed from his hand to the page, and he was sure the result had been a letter containing equal parts cool reserve and firm rebuke. He distinctly remembered the words how dare she flashing in his mind as he wrote. However, even with these dissatisfied reflections, he didn't have the ability to regret the actual note; her accusations had fallen so far from his reality that there was nothing to be done but attempt to correct her. If nothing else, he needed her to know that his very first opinion of her could not have been more different than she ascribed, although he knew it was of little consequence whether or not she believed him now.

The sound of his phone ringing provided a welcome interruption to his scattered and defeated thoughts.

"Hi Susan."

"Mr. Darcy! I hope your travels are going well."

"They are. Thank you. What can I do for you?"

"Well, sir, I thought I should tell you that a woman keeps calling for you. She says that she is working on a campaign for us and wants to setup a meeting with you. I've already explained to her that you have been delayed in your travels and would not arrive before her departure from the country. I just wanted to notify you in case it was more urgent than it seemed."

He was having trouble grasping his secretary's words, but managed to keep his tone even. "What was her name?"

"Elizabeth Bennet."

He felt his mouth go dry at the mention of her name. He had completely forgotten about her team's planned travels to London; in fact, he had delegated so much of the campaign out of his purview that he rarely requested updates on its progress. The fact that it had been going extraordinarily well was all he had needed to know, the evidence showing up handily in the sales numbers.

"Thank you for the information."

"Alright. Safe travels Mr. Darcy. Italy is next, no?"

"Yes, it is. Thank you, Susan. Have a good day."

"Goodbye Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth wanting a meeting was the last thing he could have predicted; he had already given her his assurances that they had no need to keep up appearances in the letter. He smiled sadly to himself as he reflected that she truly was the consummate professional, but…he just couldn't do it. There was nothing regarding the campaign that his brand manager could not handle, and his already wounded heart would not be able to take seeing her again. To have a meeting so formal and distant with her, when every instinct in him demanded otherwise, would be a torment he had no desire of withstanding.

His chauffer's voice broke through is ruminations. "We've arrived sir."

Will looked up to find the limousine had arrived on the tarmac, his private jet already prepped for the next stop on his factory tour.

Reaching the top of the steps, he extended his hand to his pilot. "It's good to see you again, David."

"You too, sir. Are you ready for departure? I have to admit, I myself am looking forward to an authentic Italian dinner this evening."

"Yes David, I am." With that, Will forced a smile, dipped his head in a curt assent, and boarded the plane.

Lizzy slammed her hotel room phone down in the receiver and sat agitatedly on the edge of her bed. This secretary and her calm, collected, and in her opinion, slightly judgmental, "I'm sorry, but Mr. Darcy is unavailable at the moment," was really getting on her nerves.

Attempting to settle herself, Lizzy gnawed at her lip and briefly wondered if there was anything she could have done differently during her trip, particularly since it now seemed that she wouldn't be able to see Will at all before she returned home.

She had already begun questioning herself on the flight over, the realization that she was making a gross assumption that he would even be willing to see her not the least of her reflections. If there was one thing she knew for certain about Will Darcy, it was that he went through life with a noble pride and cautious reserve. In fact, it was precisely those two traits she had ultimately attacked with her words in the cave, and it was completely likely that he would have no desire to ever see her again after such an onslaught. It seemed only natural that a man who prized privacy so much that he had a gag-order implemented to ensure his sister's good name would definitely not appreciate being hunted down by someone who had brutally rejected him when he finally offered to let them in.

The only thought remaining when her plane finally landed at Heathrow: I don't think I'm ready for this.

Which was why, perhaps, she hadn't pursued it so urgently at first. It had taken a few days to settle into London with her team, but by Tuesday of the first week she had once again found her resolve and sorted out her thoughts enough to be ready to face him. Retrieving the number from Lydia – a miracle in and of itself – Lizzy had placed the call she hoped would change her life.

"William Darcy's Office. Susan Gardiner speaking."

"Yes, hello. My name is Elizabeth Bennet and I represent Lucas Media. My team and I recently arrived in town to complete some work we are doing on a campaign for Darcy Motors. I was hoping to setup a meeting with Mr. Darcy while we are here."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Mr. Darcy is abroad at the moment."

That information certainly took Lizzy by surprise. "Oh. I see. Well, when will he be back?"

"We expect him early next week."

"Oh…alright. No problem. I'll call back on Monday."

"That's fine."

"Okay. Thank you."

"Bye-bye."

And such was her first inkling that her plan to win back the man of her dreams would be even more complicated than she already knew it to be. When Jane had suggested she seek Will out, it had never occurred to her that he wouldn't actually be in England. Elizabeth mentally chided herself for not checking with Bingley beforehand, although subconsciously she knew that there was an unstated mutual agreement to keep the interactions between the couples separate.

Well, she wasn't desperate yet. She could solely focus on the campaign the first week, leaving more room in the second for the mammoth task of repairing her love life. She buckled down and proceeded to do more work in that week than she had done in the past month. It was exhausting and rewarding simultaneously: the campaign had caught fire in England, with a number of consumer groups complimenting Darcy Motors for their advocacy of family and celebration of human interaction. It was now her team's job to understand why the campaign was such a hit and to determine if it would translate well into other cultures without many changes. Things went smoothly, the focus groups were successful, and Lizzy put herself entirely into her work in the hopes that some of the following week would be available for more personal endeavors.

At 8 a.m. the following Monday, Lizzy once again put in a call to Darcy Motors.

"William Darcy's office. Susan Gardiner speaking."

"Hello Susan. It's Elizabeth Bennet. I spoke to you last week regarding scheduling a meeting with Mr. Darcy?"

"Ah, yes. Of course. How are you Elizabeth?"

"Well, thank you. What does his availability look like? I'm happy to squeeze myself in wherever I can."

"I'm sorry to inform you, but he hasn't returned from his travels yet. In fact, he's been delayed a few days."

A momentary panic gripped her. "What?"

"He's been delayed."

"No, I…I heard you. Listen, would you be able to give me contact information for him? I was really hoping to be able to meet with him."

"I'm sorry ma'am. I'm not authorized to do that."

Lizzy looked at the receiver and began shaking it in frustration before honestly reflecting that she would give up her firstborn if she could just get Lydia to behave in the same fashion. In fact, she was fairly certain that if Lydia were Will's secretary she would not only already have his number, but his Twitter and Instagram passwords as well.

All she could do was sigh in defeat. "I understand. Do you have any idea of when he will be back?"

"I believe Wednesday, but his plans are entirely open to change. Every time he goes on this tour it never ends when it is supposed to."

"He's on a tour?"

"Yes, he is making his yearly round of the factories."

"Alright. I understand. Could you leave a message for him saying I called, please?"

"Of course."

"Thank you Ms. Gardiner."

"Good day Miss Bennet."

It was a moment of reckoning for Lizzy. Her plan to make amends was quickly going up in smoke for a reason she had never anticipated. Yanking out her laptop, she quickly drafted an email to Charlie asking if he knew of the best way to contact Will, but she froze before hitting send. Wouldn't Will know that she was in England? If he wasn't absolutely set against her, wouldn't he have stuck around on the chance that he could see her? Was this "tour of the factories" just another escape from her like he had done in the DR, and if it was, did she have it in her to pursue him anyway?

She had left him a message and now it was time for her to take a few steps back. He had to decide for himself what he wanted; he was entitled to the space necessary to do that, at least.

Of course, that didn't stop her from calling Susan Gardiner one more time on Wednesday morning.

"William Darcy's Office. Susan Gardiner speaking."

"Hi Susan. It's Elizabeth. Has Mr. Darcy returned yet?"

"No, he hasn't. It's now looking like he will return next week."

Lizzy felt her hopes crumble around her feet.

Susan continued, "May I ask what this meeting is about again?"

"I, well…I'm his campaign manager and I…wanted to speak to him directly about our…progress."

"I see."

"I know you left him a message, but can you personally just notify him now that I called? It's important."

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Darcy is unavailable at the moment. In the air as we speak, actually."

Elizabeth winced at the information. "When he becomes available, then?"

"Of course."

"Have a good day, Susan."

"Yes, thank you. You too…Elizabeth."

And so now she sat, oscillating between thinking she hadn't been forward enough and that she had already overstepped her bounds. Grabbing her laptop one more time, she opened up Google and stared blankly at the colorful logo. There had to be something she could do…some way to reach out that would let him know she cared without blatantly stalking him. Email felt too impersonal, Facebook even worse. Lightly tapping the keys in thought, she vaguely recalled a conversation at Bingley's dining table about homes - Will's home, in particular. What was the name of it again?

Lizzy entered the words, William Darcy's home into the search engine.

A slew of paparazzi photos resulted from the search, his dear face now saturating her vision with an unavoidable reminder that she would not be able to see him in person. A few of the results claimed a ritzy London flat to be his residence. That doesn't seem right. I don't remember it even being in London. Leave it to Will to find a way to keep his home out of the public record…how am I ever going to find it now?

Suddenly, Caroline's taunt and haughty face swam clearly into her mind. "…it is nothing to your estate in England, Will. I can only hope that our home can aspire to the greatness of Pemberley."

The word was typed almost before she had fully recalled it. Pemberley. And there it was - classic, beautiful and absolutely from another era.

She wasn't surprised to find that the website made no mention of the estate's owners. After reading a bit about its history and glancing through photos, a strangely appealing word began calling to her from the bottom of the navigation bar…Tours. Buses departed London every day at 10, 12 and 2, transporting sightseers directly to the historic site for a guided tour of the building, grounds and garden. In total, it would be a six hour trip, but the excitement she felt just looking at the photos told her it would be well worth the time and effort.

Lizzy reached into the desk drawer and brought out a paper and pen. Even if they were fated to only re-connect on a phone call, if ever, she could still try to make this personal.

If she couldn't see him, she could at least hand-deliver her reply.

On Thursday, Lizzy awoke to a such beautiful stream of sunshine through her window that it made her temporarily forget that she was visiting England in the heart of winter. She had given her team the entire day off, the bulk of their work already finished, and had purchased her admission to Pemberley the previous evening during a visit to the charter bus kiosk immediately before dinner.

The trip to the grounds was astounding, and Lizzy did whatever she could to draw further courage and inspiration from it. The rolling countryside of England was exactly how she had always pictured it, complete with chartreuse hills, marshes and ghostly vales. As they reached the final approach to the house, the bus followed a languidly winding path that allowed glimpses of the structure from different angles as it drew nearer. From her first moment of seeing it, Lizzy once again found cause to question herself as her heart found its way into her throat. In fact, once arrived, Lizzy had to stand outside of Pemberley for a full five minutes before finding the courage to step inside. The tour group had long gone on without her, but her feet stubbornly refused to move from the cobblestone drive. She almost felt...intimidated by a distinct feeling that she didn't belong.

She had always known that Will was rich. It wasn't something that he flaunted so much as something he simply embodied. His clothes were all designer, he carried himself with a self-assured presence, and his conversation proved him to be cultured. However, it was a stark contrast from the way Caroline and Ms. DeBourgh flaunted their wealth in front of the world; with Will you became aware of his affluence by getting to know the man, not by seeing his resources directly.

Which was probably why she couldn't believe the awe she felt when she finally did. Her wonderment and contemplation of the sprawling country mansion in the lush hills of England had stopped her dead in her tracks. It was both grand and unpretentious simultaneously; a picturesque drawn out of a 19th century romance novel that filled your heart with childhood amazement that such a structure not only existed, but was still home to a family.

It was almost laughable now to recall that she had once thought that she had Will all figured out. Seeing his extensive property made her realize that he was remarkably down to earth considering his background - there were plenty of millionaires who would gladly boast of having a home like this...money like this. Will never had. Sure, Caroline had tried to do it for him one or two times, but Will…Will had always stayed in the moment, in the conversation. He seemed to enjoy people instead of things: reason #225 why Will Darcy may very well be the best man who ever breathed, and also reason #225 why Lizzy was potentially the worst failed romantic heroine in history.

Back to the task at hand, Lizzy once again gulped down her feelings of being an intruder and forced her legs to take her beyond the doorway. She heard the distant voices of her tour group down a long, sun-lit corridor to the left. At first pursuing the path to join them, she suddenly paused…she had not expected her moment to come quite so soon. Glancing around and finding no one, she doubled back and charged up the main staircase two steps at a time, hoping that she would be able to quickly find a private space to leave the letter that was now gently tucked into her purse. His personal study or office would be ideal, but she would settle for anything she could identify as being particularly his; a place where he would come for familiarity's sake and be able to find her attempt at righting things between them in privacy.

After peering into a few too-perfect bedrooms, Lizzy began to doubt her instincts that the second floor was most likely what was kept private from the many tours that daily traversed the lofty halls. Rounding the corner, she entered a large gallery space lined with stately portraits from another era. Realizing she had walked right where her tour was sure to follow, Lizzy paused a moment to take in the incredible art before contemplating the best escape route. Just before exiting via a partially covered side door, Lizzy's eyes were arrested by one particular portrait at the far end of the gallery.

There was an informality to the painting that provided a happy contrast to the stiff decorum of so many of the others, and the inherent merriment contained therein made Lizzy smile involuntarily. Captivated by the delightful picture, Lizzy moved closer to it to admire it further. The image was of a family. Four children surrounded the couple: the youngest, only an infant at the time of painting, sat happily playing with blocks at the feet of her mother, while two older boys and a girl stood pleasantly arranged at their parent's sides. The husband stood immediately to the right of his seated wife, holding her hand and looking deeply into her eyes. Unlike the other portraits, where a sword or instrument was included to represent something meaningful to the subjects, the only object of distinction Elizabeth could find was a letter held protectively in the woman's left hand.

Seeing it made Lizzy think about her own letter, which she involuntarily drew up and clutched to her heart.

The couple must have searched hard and long before commissioning the artist they chose to complete the painting; the emotions captured in their expressive faces could not be clearer if they were actually present in the room. There was a deep love captured in their look and body language, their happy and thriving children the natural result of their tender devotion to each other. Upon closer inspection, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that the woman's eyes were the same color as Will's, but with an inherent mischievous glint that matched the levity found at the corners of her mouth. She was charming…they were charming, and Elizabeth found herself wishing that one day she could find happiness similar to that so exquisitely captured in the portrait.

Someone cleared their throat behind her. "Those were my eighth great-grandparents. They lived in this house during the early 1800's. It's one of my favorites in here, actually."

Lizzy almost had to physically reach out and catch her heart as it leapt from her chest. Had she dreamed it? Or was he really there, standing behind her, seemingly so close that she could turn around and leap into his arms if she wanted to?

His voice sounded slightly strained. "Lizzy? Are…are you OK?"

Oh my god. He is. Oh my god…I'm a stalker. He must think I'm crazy, creeping around his home. This was definitely NOT a good idea, Lizzy…what were you thinking?

It really was too late for any regrets, however. Taking a deep breath, Lizzy mustered every ounce of courage she could find on such short notice. Slowly turning around, she came face to face with the one person she wanted to see, and the last one she ever expected to.

Will Darcy.

A/N: I don't want to give any more excuses because they will simply become repetitive. The main point is that I just refuse to post a chapter until I am happy with it, and I'm finally happy with this one.

Thankfully, it's long enough to be two chapters, so hopefully that helps you forgive me a little bit for the wait!

Thank you again and again for your patience and support, including your favs, follows, reviews and pms! I will get back to you, and I apologize in advance if it takes me awhile to do so. Life can be so hectic sometimes it's crazy!

Pictures for this chapter should be going up within the week.

I truly wish you all the best. Until next chapter, then! :)