A/N: Happy new year! Well, I don't even know what to say. Last year about this time, I had every hope of finishing this story by now. I know it has been a long time, and I'm half-embarrassed to even come back and post! I will finish it, I just can no longer make any commitment to when. Nor can I make a commitment to the quality. *cringe* Good news: I have a couple more chapters complete, and I know exactly how this goes up until the end. Bad news: there is one little part from here to the end which I can't seem to get the writing right, and when I am unhappy with what I write, I seem to take forever to get over it and move on. (Hence taking almost a year to post.) Also, my life is full of ridiculous commitment and my free time to write is very limited. :(

More than you can know, I appreciate all the reviews, concerns, and PM's over the past year. So many times, I wanted to just post a note that I am still working on this, but I felt I could not post something without more story to post. I know there are a ton of errors in my writing that I have every intention of someday fixing, so thank you for looking beyond the bad.

With that, for those who are still interested (thank you!), and I completely understand those who are not, below is the next chapter. Word of caution, hang in there until the end of the chapter. Things are going up for our dear friends.

BTW - we left them last outside of Perth, Scotland getting dramatically robbed on the road by a pair of highwaymen. They are taking round-about way to the Isle of Skye where Darcy has a Scottish estate of more sentimental value than anything else. They've really only been married about two-ish months. (Perhaps the two longest months ever considering I'm pretty sure I married them in this story sometime in early 2017. :)

Chapter 42

The salt in the air pervaded as the setting sun with its deceptive, warm tones touched the basal-topped formations. Those mountains and their valleys, dusted earlier in the day by the Scottish winter, set forth a view as if it were brushed directly from the heavens beyond. The majesty of it all amply recompensed for the cold which had permanently settled in Elizabeth's bones. She thought it almost enough reparation for the chill in her heart.

Those divine golden rays pouring out in rivulets from under the dawning rose-grey sky seemed to stretch their shot from afar roaring right over the white hills and directly into her side of the carriage. To fight the fancy of sensibility induced by such brilliance was almost futile.

Valliant with a vow for only just one last peep out the window and promising not to sigh aloud, Elizabeth settled herself and turned a neutral smile on her husband wondering about his sensibilities. Just as she had thought she stood a chance to capture some part of him, his battlements had grown stronger. It had been nine days since he had held her in his arms in the coach after their drama unfolded on the road. They had at once traveled back to Perth where she and Tabitha were promptly deposited at an inn and left to the sole care of Mr. Johnson for two full days.

Nevertheless, it had been a sennight over rough roads now since they had finally left Perth and four days since she capitulated to the silence waving her white handkerchief in defeat after many failed attempts to draw Fitzwilliam again into the excitement of their travels. And further, she had certainly dared not attempt to tempt her fickle husband into more familiarity than that – given his return into a marked coolness of civilities.

Now smiling upon him blandly in hopelessness, he gave her no notice in return. Of course, he would not. His eyes were otherwise engrossed with his readiest form of defense from her scant charms; he was given his attentions to a thorough review of a most favorite companion – one of the endless Pemberley Estates ledgers which seemed to materialize from the Scottish air each day.

He must have, at last, sensed as much of her stare as he could manage, for after a few minutes and with a show of reluctance, he finally turned to her with his brows raised.

She lifted her expression in return. "You must have exceptional sight in low light. I was forced to give up my book a mile back."

He shrugged, closed his ledger, and put away his letters before shifting toward that same scene without which was her own earlier study. His long legs shifted for the fortieth time that day as if to find comfort. Oh, she had not meant to unsettle him more than he already was, but she knew she had when she heard him clear his throat thrice since closing his account book in trying to mask his discomfort. Despite him attempting to evade the awkwardness well enough, she was puzzled and nettled as ever as he reverted to the same gruff politeness she had experienced at various times in their acquaintance of a bare half-year.

Though she could not countenance having known the man she could legally refer to as 'husband' not truly even a full six-month, the past week made it feel as if their marriage had been long, laborious years in the making to their present status of seeming conjugal resignation instead of just the two-month it was.

Their trip since deciding to continue onward after the attempted highway robbery had been breathtaking yet painstaking due to the cold and rugged terrain. Similar to her fellow traveler's present attitude, their little expedition had taken a turn for the quiet and cautious when they finally set out for Skye from Perth. Fitzwilliam was never precisely discourteous through it all, but he was not exactly the almost amiable attendant he had been in Wales and during their first several days in Scotland. Something occurred that day they were accosted which had rent a good deal damage on the hopes for their companionability.

Elizabeth felt the flush under her skin and brought her gloved hands up to cover her cheeks. She could not have been more imprudent that day, in words and deed. But the glutton she was, it seemed her imprudence and stupidity had continued onward still, and she was sure she was now condemned to live her life making a fool of herself.

While in Perth, when he had finally returned to the inn after leaving her, her maid, and half the servants for those few days full of high emotions, questions, and who knows what judicious actions on his part, she and Fitzwilliam had disagreed with much enthusiasm as to even continuing northward.

He had informed her they were to return south to Glasgow, and for whatever reasons to her at the time seemed justified, she objected most strenuously. She refused to let some miscreants put them off their desired path. So, in not bowing to the violence, she also did not bow to her husband.

He repeatedly dismissed her assurances of her retuned composure, and he seemed to scoff at her vehement resolution to not give over to the fear they had experienced.

They had come too far to turn back she had said.

When she attempted to cajole him with mentioning his estate responsibilities which had drawn them to seemingly the ends of the Earth in the first place, he was not amused, not in the least.

He stood there in her room at the inn. With a single knock and for once entering without awaiting her permission, he came to her just as she was preparing for dinner. Hairpin suspended in-hand, mid-air, Tabitha was attempting to dress her hair with some degree of credit. Elizabeth hastily belted her dressing gown, slowly lowered her maid's hand as if to shake her, and could only be glad Tabitha finally had the sense to excuse herself with nary a word.

"Miss Harris," Fitzwilliam acknowledged the scurrying maid.

Elizabeth could cede her reaction was not befitting a lady when he closed the door behind Tabitha and declared forthwith their entire party was returning to Glasgow the next morning. She had not seen him for two days, yet this was the first thing he cared to say. Her excuse must have been the worry, guilt, and stress over his absence which had eaten her up from the inside, and so all the damage of her high emotions manifested into indignation.

"Well, it is a fine thing to see you finally too, Fitzwilliam. Forgive me for not understanding, but are suggesting we now beg off our travels?"

"Call it what you will, but yes, we are not pressing west from here. It is too dangerous."

"And just what of this mysterious, pressing business in Scotland that somehow so suddenly called you from Somerdale the day of your Aunt's ball? It seemed so entirely necessary at the time that you insisted we hie off with all rapidity to address… what was it again? Ah, yes, the fences and the roofs in Scotland? And, according to your Cousin Isaac's letter, your supposed wedding tour?"

Her mocking glance and must have told him at once what she thought of that pretext. Cinching her dressing gown again and this time trying with what he was sure to see as a deceptive smile, she went on, "Well, you had even warned of robbery and highwaymen if you recall. It has happened, and it is done with. I was aware of the danger, and you even had faith that I could take the risk. If your estate concerns in Scotland are now not so important, then why are we even here? You cannot surely let this unfortunate affair detract you from whatever is so urgent. You hauled yourself all this way for a reason, how can you allow evil to prevail in this instance and cause us to change course?"

She watched his fist clench as he turned his head from her. Walking across the room, he stated coldly, "No matter my business or purpose, it is pure foolishness to carry on at the expense of your safekeeping. I was mistaken not to put this trip off until better traveling accommodations could be better arranged for you. The whole business was taken with haste, and as of late, it seems haste has been my folly."

That comment had gone to her heart, and she felt better to call the insult for what it was. "Well, sir, it seems it is not haste which has been your folly but rather me! Admit it, sir, I dare you! With all the other complications I have caused to your well-ordered life, add complicating your travels with my delicate need for an abundance of precautions to that long list of burdens you now have in a wife. Lord! Do not turn back for my sake. It is ridiculous."

Elizabeth wrung her hands at the weariness which had crept into her voice which stemmed just as much as the past months as from the actual ordeal of the past couple of days. Resolute but begrudgingly wishing to give him a compromise as she pressed herself to be rational, she held her head high and lock her eyes with his, "I do not wish to be an inconvenience and can only be sorry for it. Clearly, you had some reason to come this far, and I will not encumber your purposes any longer if you insist changing our plans on behalf of your concern for me – because some contemptible men foolishly choose our coach. At least deny those terrible men a complete victory in this instance. Do not allow your apprehension for me to alter what you originally set out to do on this trip. On this principle we can surely agree; we are both too stubborn to us both to be put off… surely."

The idea that both of them would change their plans in fear struck a righteous rebellious streak in her she could not shake. Walking closer, her hand extended to further sway him to a solution which would allow at least him to continue, she persisted. "Miss Harris and I shall return to Glasgow and await your return there if you do not wish me to accompany you thither to your estate. We have two carriages. I can surely make Glasgow in a day as it is not above sixty miles, and then you may expedite yourself to Skye without a leech on your concerns or on your time. I will await you back in Glasgow though I do request as a hotel as I would not like to put out Sir Hanbororgh's housekeeper again."

He gaped at her with narrowing eyes completely rejecting her placating, outstretched hand. "Are you indeed mad? You think I shall send my wife out upon the road alone after we were just on the receiving end of an attempted violently robbery? We have not even yet found the other man. That other ruffian is still out there, and he will surely be looking to avenge his cohort if he hears of his accomplice's fate!"

She paused at the reemergence of the human condition of the criminal who had been shot by Mr. Johnson. She had seen the enemy's blood, and her sensibilities, if still ever staid and English, began to soften for the plight any another, no matter how foul the character. "What of the man's fate? The one I almost…" Elizabeth shuttered to recall that green-eyed man's revolting expression as his raised weapon aimed in the direction of her husband. She had specifically not asked Mr. Johnson anything of the whole business in the past two days in which her husband was gone if only in hope of forgetting the entire hellish episode and to dispense with her natural sympathies toward the highwaymen.

"The malefactor is still alive though his injury nor his offenses give him much hope. If he manages not to succumb, he will be held accountable, nevertheless. All that can be done is being done for him in hopes he will have to answer for his crimes in this life and not just the next. Regardless of the outcome, the men here have promised to write what becomes the man. We shall leave in the morning. I cannot abide to stay here any longer."

"He – the man who was injured – he will be eventually hanged?"

Here she perceived her husband's falter at her question and then his immediate reversal as he stood taller in his boots. "Either that or he will receive transportation for life. But I suspect it likely be the former as the law here does not abide crime even against the English. The other man once found – and I will be assured of his capture even if not by my own hands – will likely receive the same punishment. That one held John at his knife after all, and I think the only thing which stopped either man from murder and robbery was when you stepped out of the coach like some amazon. It allowed enough diversion for Mr. Johnson to act. And, though God granted it to us, mercy – even the hint of it – cannot be allowed to stand in their case, I think."

Elizabeth stood still at first the thought of a soul hanged. Corporal violence sanctioned by the law was very much part of daily life, but she never knew firsthand of anything so wretched. Her sympathy was momentarily roused again for a man who according to her husband even suffered now from the injury Mr. Johnson had given him. But that the criminal had an even worse destiny to await!

The wind rattled the glazing, and she looked to her husband now pacing there in the inn chamber assigned to her. One hand was pressed to his temple as he walked further away from her toward the window; as he brought his other hand up to brace on the sash, he turned from her to gaze out into the early night.

She looked on as his body tensed when taking a great breath. As she finally heard him expel it, she watched as the frustration rolled from his neck, through his broad shoulders, down his arm, and finally down into his hand where his knuckles became white.

He was as angry as he was weary.

Moving closer to try to take him in, she saw his coat was horribly rumpled, and his hair hung over his drawn brow from what little of his face she could see now in profile. It looked as if the poor man had not even slept in the past two days. And, if he had managed any sleep, then where he had laid his head if even at the inn, she was unsure. She was stunned and beyond vexed with his wanting to return to Glasgow, but how she wished to go to him now and place her arms over him as if a lintel to carry some of the responsibility he bore. She understood he likely had spent a harrowing time in seeing to the legalities, likely to the care of a criminal who did not deserve it, and if she knew her own face, she would wager he had himself attempted the rightful capture of the other offender. What other gentleman would take such trouble on himself?

She again recalled what she had seen out of the window of the coach on the road. Fitzwilliam stood staring down evil with a gun pointed in his chest. He was calm and utterly fearless that day with no weapon of his own to defend himself. No, he had left his means of protection with her, behind in the coach… in her hands.

Thinking of those evil green eyes in which she had seen so much greed and then so much pain after being wounded, she wondered how could she feel anything at all for a criminal who would have murdered down Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, her lawful husband, in cold blood? She might have some natural defect in her delicacy, but she knew now looking over her good, spent husband that she could not be sorry for a deserved punishment though she hoped the criminal might recover and receive transportation instead of death. How could she allow these two black-hearted strangers to do such harm to them and their faithful servants? It broke her heart as it angered and disturbed her. The past days produced too great a strain, and Fitzwilliam, who was all which was honorable and innocent, did not deserve to be made to feel the gravity and authority which was now thrust upon him from this situation.

They need to put it from their minds and move onward.

Elizabeth wiped her eyes and made her voice as to not be misunderstood. "Well, as dismal and deserved as both men's fortune might be – and as a Christian woman, may God help their souls – I shall not countenance us continue living in the terror they attempted to instill. We are all of us both hale and well having survived the experience. Do not let evil win in this instance, Fitzwilliam, I pray you. And further, your plans and life as you see fit to live it should not be denied to you on account of fear for my safety or fear in general. Clearly whatever brought you here is important, and as much as those horrid men's actions should not interfere with your life, I neither will be an excuse to go about as you have always meant to do. You thought it safe three days whence; one instance cannot now change that fact when you even acknowledged the possibility of robbery from the beginning. So, as I see it, the risks have not materially changed from when you thought it was safe enough. I will either travel back to Glasgow to await you if you are so especially adamant, or I shall accompany you just as intended all along." With boldness, she lifted her eyes to his bearing reflected in the window with a daring he should look to her. "My preference is the latter."

She could truly not imagine having to leave him. These two days without him had been torture since he deposited her in this room and told her not to leave the inn until he returned.

That he had never acknowledged her small words of love in the coach – words she had not meant to even utter to herself let alone to him – still stung, but she banished the vanity to hear anything of a similar vein as long as he was well and not so forlorn and beat down as he appeared now before her. Just that morning she had reaffirmed in her mind she would try to be happy with him in whatever manner of husband he should be… if he would only return to her well from whatever it was that was keeping him so occupied.

Love did not always require requital she had told herself in the two days of solitude with her maid and on the occasional, quiet walk with Mr. Johnson. Elizabeth took a deep breath and dismissed all thoughts of being so foolish as to have said anything at all that day in her distress while she was comforted in Fitzwilliam's safe arms.

And though she wished with every determination of her heart to provide the same comfort for him now as he did for her that day, she felt she had no choice but to accept that he would surely never wish it as he could not even stand to look at her.

After some minutes of watching him, he finally did turn her way, his face a vacant aspect except for the darkness from outside still partially reflected in his eyes. Looking toward her but somewhere over her shoulder refusing to give her the courtesy, he tightened his fist and then slowly smoothed his palms on his breeches before he took decided steps in her direction. Something struck deep in his voice, and she was offended by the tone before even the words could register, "Why must you always be so bloody obstinate, Elizabeth?"

Well, of all the provoking – such language – and it did instantly provoke to the heart of the matter, "Sir, I believe you well knew of my obstinacy and my other less desirable traits when you chose for us to become married! Just as those men shall likely hang for their poor, criminal decisions, you shall have to suffer your own consequences in your choice of wife. If you thought I could change so easily into some meek, obedient woman who shall quell before your unreasonable demands, then I regret to inform you, it shall never be. You see, it is the principle of the matter in the present case, I find it morally objectionable to change our course of travel. Truth to tell, I have no wish to return to Glasgow with or without you, and I do not fear you nor do I fear highwaymen. We should carry on as we intended."

Somewhere in her impudent speech, he had stepped back as a look of astonishment took over him. "You would compare my marrying you to a hangman's noose?"

She was chastised as his surprise turned to disgust; she had not meant to imply such in her fit of temper over his insult. "Forgive my irreverence. That was a terrible comparison and done in poor taste. My only excuse is that I am still so angry that those two men would wish to take you from me – to harm you… and the rest of us, of course. I only meant to acknowledge that I am well-aware of my willfulness and know well how distasteful you find it."

And with that was the beginning of the end of her composure.

She, Elizabeth Bennet – now Darcy, all of almost one-and-twenty years, was willful to the end if just to prove her new husband was astute in his judiciousness and prove to herself that she would not give in to the feelings of inadequacy without knowingly owning them in full.

"Sir, I know our marriage has certainly been nothing less than a punishment for you… though I will argue it is a self-imposed one, and it is a little too late to be so disconcerted at the woman you married. I would argue you have well-cataloged my faults, including my obstinacy, since almost the first of our acquaintance. You are much too shrewd to think people so changeable, so, do not insult me so by asking questions of my character you well-know the answer to."

Elizabeth felt tendrils of tight heat snaking up her throat. She would not cry in anger nor anguish before him. She had already done that enough in the last two days in worry while he was away from her. She bore-up as best she could to now dismiss him before all her control was lost. "Pray, excuse me, sir, I must dress before we dine downstairs. I assume you will join us? Everyone will be eager to see you and hear whatever news you have; I am certain." With a brisk decided cinch of her wrapper, she moved past him to the dressing table to do naught but realign her scented waters and creams into a neatly lined in a row. Looking at the small bottles and jars with the cork stoppers and tops, she thought that unlike her marriage, at least she had been successful with creating something by her own hand. She wondered if there was a distillery room in Skye. It would at least give her some employment and distraction.

Finding, at last, a deep breath, she realized her husband stayed firm to his place across the room. She dared not look in the looking glass as to perhaps see his face. It was bad enough she could feel his eyes burning her back. "Sir, I am unaware of where you have been sleeping. Were you able to secure additional rooms, or should Tabitha stay with me this evening? Her chamber is really nothing more than a small adjoining room with a single bed and small desk, but it will be adequate for you if there are none others; she will not mind if you wish to see if it will meet with your needs. I can even take that one if you like this chamber better." She was now softly rambling to the inlaid wooden top of the dressing table. "A cot will be no trouble for her or even for me even if she and I share the smaller chamber. This mattress is quite comfortable in here if you would like though there is a bit of a lump-"

"For the past two nights, I have sheltered with the man who passes for something like magistrate in this area." Darcy cleared his throat. "Miss Harris may stay where she is. I will stay with Mr. Johnson. There is no reason to take yet another chamber nor a reason to disrupt you."

"Stay with Mr. Johnson in the rooms over the stable? No, you should have some comfort after what you have endured. I can easily make accommodations for you –"

"'Tis my preference to stay with Mr. Johnson."

She should have known he did not wish to share even an inn let alone an adjoining chamber with her. "Very well." She blinked and sat now at the table still avoiding the mirror where she might see him. "I will pack my trucks and be available to depart in the morning." There was a tremor in her voice, but she charged forward in her stubborn presumption of being the victor in their dispute. "I am quite enthusiastic to see the highlands. How many days do you suppose it shall take us to arrive in Skye?" In her mind, she had hoped their destination could bring them peace and time to know one another better if his estate concerns allowed them a little time together as it had in Wales. So far in their travels, he seemed to have quite time enough for her entertainment, and it had been more wonderful than she could have ever thought. She was not ready to give up her hope yet, no matter small it was. "After dinner, Tabitha and I shall pack our things so we will be ready to depart at first light... to go north."

"You, madam, are impossible." He walked to the door, let himself out into the corridor, and then closed the thick panel of wood behind him with a blow that shook the walls.

Elizabeth opened her closed eyes to again to look out her carriage window feeling all the embarrassment of their arguments in Perth wash over her again. Focus on the present and recall the past only as it gives you pleasure. This time she did not suppress the urge to sigh. The beauty of the sinking sun over this new landscape was incomparable and much better to dwell upon. Speaking to the window and wishing her shame away, she asked, "Shall we make it in time, you think? The sun is nearly upon the horizon."

"We have no choice, there is nowhere else to stay."

"Are we so close, then?"

"I believe only a few more hills, and then the road to the estate should appear. I should warn you…" He trailed off, and she finally felt her cheeks cool and pale enough to look at him.

He was no longer gazing out his own window but staring down into his lap worrying his glove and attempting to still his legs as one of them seemed to make small bounces of its own volition.

"And, what is it that you should warn me of?"

"The accommodation might not be as such you think."

"You know I am no choosy maiden. I am no Miss Caroline Bingley. And, I am certainly not my mother who wishes to find herself in such fine rooms as to have reason to exclaim over them. I am sure all will be just to my liking as everything else has been. You cannot think me so difficult to please."

He looked up at her and cast his doubtful eyes on hers seeming to choose his words with care. "Indeed, you are not like Bingley's sisters, and of course you do not share all of your mother's fine qualities. I thank you for being so easily quartered. As far as you being no choosy maiden, I can at least appreciate it to some degree."

It was not his words but his gravelly voice which made Elizabeth feel the blush again creep up her cheeks. "Well, since you are aware of my not-so-lofty requirements. What then is your warning?"

"Have you stayed in an actual castle before?"

Elizabeth felt a glimmer of excitement putting to rest any awkwardness felt on her part. "A castle?"

"Ah, hence the warning. Do not be so hopeful for something grand, exquisite or even romantic as you no doubt have read in some silly novel. The vistas from the keep do make it all worth it. But in reality, this particular castle is nothing more than a drafty pile, in some places rather dank, and it is mostly dark where improvements have not been made as they ought. You will not find the staff at all as you have found elsewhere…" He trailed off.

"Well, I believe you know me well enough to agree that if the views as you say, then I shall have no cause for complaint on any other point. A castle, truly? Were your other estates just not enough, Mr. Darcy? A castle must have been added to the hand?" She raised her brow, and he held her look for only a moment.

"You would have had to ask my father. I had no participation in obtaining this property and hardly any of the others. There is enough to manage without acquiring more. But, I believe my father purchased this one from a local clan to gift to my mother. There was some Scottish lineage on her own mother's side, and my mother had a love for the landscape here. I think he hoped it would be her special place dedicated to her pleasure, alas we only came the once as a family during her lifetime."

The sound of the wheels rolling over a rough road was the only sound for some long seconds. Elizabeth could not hold herself in check; she reached out and quickly took his hand from his lap. It was the first time she had touched him not out of necessity in over a week.

He startled and stared.

"Thank you, Fitzwilliam. Thank you for bringing me here. I cannot tell you how sorry I am for forcing the matter of traveling and causing you discontentment this week past on the road, but I will not wholly repent. There is so much beauty to be found here. I could have never imagined Scotland so beautiful even in winter. Even if your castle does not boast all the comforts of the most modern of townhouses in London, I am sure I will be more than truly happy." She squeezed his fingers.

He looked at her a little dumbfounded before he gave her a little nod, and she willed him to not turn away now that she finally had his full attention.

His mouth moved a little before anything came from it. "There is a pianoforte… an incredible Stein; I think you should like it."

Elizabeth could not help but smile, and she brightened it even as he pulled loose from her grasp. "Well, ever thankful am I that your castle has an exquisite pianoforte! Whatever would we do with ourselves otherwise? I am sure, at least for myself, I would go mad from dullness without an instrument… I can only hope you think you might go mad from dullness too and give me a lesson or three?" She laughed a little and said, "I think the entertainment of my poor playing and your scolding would amuse us for hours." Doing her best to continue to draw him into her humor, she added, "I am quite sure you will be a taskmaster, and I will enjoy the challenge."

Not initially responding to her how she would have hoped, he leaned over to the other side of his bench looking over the hills in the opposite window and waiting for his castle to appear in the waning light, but she caught his eyes as he suddenly shifted them over his shoulder in that haughty manner he just sometimes could not divest himself of, "Pianoforte or no, I am sure you will do not much more, than, of course, get yourself up to some kind of trouble. I will not only have to scold you for more than just a bout of ill-placed fingers but will certainly have to save you from yourself, surely. Perhaps we should firmly discuss the merits of keeping one's rambles to one's own property lest you trespass on some clan's pasture lands; perhaps I should impose the need for myself or a servant to follow you out on every trail lest you fall into a ravine because you are too busy looking up and not watching your step."

So surprised she was at his intended playfulness and length of his speech which had been long absent, she allowed the non-answer of his playing the pianoforte with her, and instead, she followed him on his desired path of conversation trying to bait him again into teasing. "So then, does your castle come with a grand, gallant white horse?"

His gaze focused on her with one eye narrowed in confusion and one side of his mouth turning down at the corner. "A white horse?"

"Yes! Surely a heroic knight needs a grand, gallant white horse to ride from his castle to save the maiden who finds herself in such peril in the bottom of a ravine as you suggest."

"Well, you are in luck. I believe one of Sir Hamborough's outriders at the other carriage has a white-ish horse. I shall send him as your attendant and savior if his horse pleases you so much."

"I know of whom you speak, and he is not nearly as handsome of a rescuer as I had in mind, but I suppose it matters who my hero might be as long as he arrives on his white-ish horse – Oh!"

Out of the window and standing on an opposite rise in the near winter's twilight was a large, crude stone edifice, turrets and all.

"That is yours?"

"Well, I suppose as of the second of December in the year eleven, it is also yours – if by a vow not by law."

"And, your castle has a moat. Unbelievable."

"Elizabeth, come, actually that is a natural stream, not a fosse. It runs in front of the property, not around it."

With a much-feigned pique, she said, "I shall think of it like a moat if it pleases me."

Finally, the man fully laughed, and she caught his smiling face in the dimness of their shared space and could not help but laugh herself in the victory of small progress.

Elizabeth knew relief in the deep tones of his merriment over their shared silly conversation, and as foolish as she was, she knew hope - a small little flicker she vowed at that moment to fan into a flame of realized yearnings.

As the rumbling carriage and its horses picked-up their speed impatient to be at the end of their destination, he sobered some even as his eyes still smiled upon her, "It looks as if we have made it just before the last light; quite fortunate for us since the torches are not yet lit. It should be no more than five or ten minutes now."

She began to gather her scattered things laying upon the seat and spoke heartily if a bit distracted. "Thank you again for allowing us to continue. I look forward to our time here."

"Now that we are arriving safely, I suppose I must apologize for being such a boar about it when we left Perth. I, well, I was quite angry at your determination, but more than that, you must understand I was quite concerned, you see."

Elizabeth stilled her gathering upon hearing a tender reflection in his voice, swallowed, and gave him what she hoped was a sincere smile. "No explanation needed. Let us not quarrel no longer. I quite understand my stubbornness is troublesome… though for my own sake, I shall always contend you well knew what you about on that day you bestowed upon me a castle, if only by a vow – the second of December in the year eleven."

She raised her brow enticing him to take the olive branch and plant it right into the ground to grow tall and strong before they stepped out into their next journey in the most beautiful land she could ever imagine. "You see, my dear Mr. Darcy, in my view of things, we each have our equal share in this irksome dispute we have been having, and so my contribution to it more than justifies yours. Further, while we reside here, I promise to overlook your stubborn nature since a castle with a moat is my reward for the small thing of bearing a temperament certainly no worse than my own. And, to further try your everlasting patience, will you indulge another lovely aspect to my character – selfishness – and grant me another request?"

"I should grant you anything in my power."

Elizabeth gathered her courage knowing they were nearing an end of one journey and shortly headed on a new one if they could but place their pride aside. "I would beg you, and I shall do the same myself…. to truly put off this acrimony that has lingered beyond… the incident outside of Perth?"

"I am trying to apologize for just that –"

She put her hand out, and when he was silent a moment longer than needed to stir-up the anxiety fluttering in her belly, she added, "I understand you are apologizing. What I mean to request is a restoration of what small intimacy I thought we had found. Or, perhaps I was mistaken, and it was only me who continued to feel as if I had to tiptoe around conversation since we argued over leaving Perth… Fitzwilliam?"

He vacillated another few moments before acknowledging her. "You were not the only one who felt it though it was not intentional to make you feel my lingering resentment so harshly. My temper is a failing as you well know. I will gladly put aside my feelings over the episode as you wish, and I promise to do better, but only with your forgiveness. There is so much to forgive, and concerns over your safety as we have traveled can be my only excuse. However, I am afraid it was expressed all wrong, and I will admit to the further failing that I do not always behave as I ought when I do not have my own way."

Elizabeth swallowed and reached for his hand again. "We are so opposite and yet the same, you and me. I think we both have too much determination to have things just as we would like." She held his gaze until she saw him acknowledge their mutual stubborn streak. "However, whereas you are slower to anger but allow it to excessively dawdle, my passions rise-up in antagonism only to fall just as quickly. My point is this: we neither are perfect in our way, and so… you shall always be assured my forgiveness without as so much as even asking." Knowing she could not stop there; she gripped his hand with real feeling. "Fitzwilliam, in this case, I know your irritation with me was well deserved. Thus, you may only put your feelings aside as you have so generously offered if you will accept my apologies first. I know you have abhorred my actions that day we were put upon while on the road despite things ending as best they could, and I know I was quite the mess after it was all over and perhaps allowed my sentiments run away with me. And, I very well know you did not appreciate my unwillingness to cut our trip short as you wished in returning to Glasgow. But to own the truth, I do not repent all my actions that day or repent anything of the unwelcome feelings I might have related as to make things awkward," she squeezed his hand even harder again to add a little to her own strength, "but I regret for the world in adding to your distress since that day or making you uncomfortable. I would wish us to try and be friends again."

"Friends?" He stared at her and then their fingers fastened together and then finally back into her eyes with some confusion. "What do you mean unwelcome –"

Their coach had slowed sooner than either realized, and the conversation was cut off when a large and burly man swung open the coach door doing his ineffectual best to look inconspicuous as he stood all clumsy in ill-fitting livery.

Ignoring the servant and not breaking Fitzwilliam's gaze, Elizabeth continued to smile at her husband in that pleading way though it was so dark now that she wondered if he could see it begin to tremble. To bolster her own bravery, she made certain Fitzwilliam would hear an encouraging lightness in her tone as she leaned closer. How she wished things to be different once they stepped from the carriage. "Yes, a friendly truce, husband." She whispered as patted her husband's hand. Louder, she requested, "Now, will you please escort me out and over your moat?"

Darcy wondered if he could feel dumbfounded, irritated, and enchanted all at once at this unexpected turn between them. Friends, it was something he supposed, and he knew he should be satisfied. He nodded in her direction not quite ready to settle for her words or look at her too closely lest she recognize some disappointment in his expression. Instead, he squinted his eyes through the window to see just exactly who opened the door without his signal. He dropped Elizabeth's hand at once and leaned his head forward out the door. "Well! Kirkland! Is that you? Zooks! What are you wearing?"

"Mathair wished me to look proper."

"Well, you look right ridiculous." Darcy jumped from the coach wondering why in heavens Kirkland would be in some old livery surely older than them both.

The servant stood there still as a statue – the only thing twitching being the edge of his mouth – until he opened it a little wider and said as not to be entirely heard by anyone other than the master of the castle, "Yon care to repeat that in the morning out over yon hill so Mathiar won't be catching us?"

Something almost akin to jealousy rose in Elizabeth's chest to see the delight which broke out over her husband's face, and she almost fell into a fit of the vapors to see her husband not only extend a hearty hand to the servant but allow himself to be hugged about the shoulders as if the other man was a bear mauling him so with those large, ungloved hands of his.

Elizabeth peeked her head out and cleared her voice thrice before her husband turned his white, broad smile on her which was as a light in the darkness. The fact that it dimed just a bit as it fell on her was not lost though she was grateful for the small continued laughter in his words as he pulled down the steps the servant forgot. "Forgive me, madam." Fitzwilliam held her hand tightly as he led her out of the carriage. And, when she finally alighted to the ground, his hand moved to the small of her back, and she had to hold her breath a moment as his palm relaxed there as casually as it had never before.

All envious and disappointed feelings instantly became giddy.

With her husband's other hand – the one not pressing through her cloak with some pressure, he indicated the servant with all the warmth she had never expected from an introduction conducted by her husband. "Elizabeth, this is Archibald Kirkland. Kirkland, I present to you my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy." His fingers curled a little as he said the last, and the faintness felt behind her eyes continued as she heard real pleasure in his voice in presenting her to this man.

Kirkland bowed as proper as a beast-come-man could and smiled with true kindness even as he looked away a trifle shy. "A pleasure, mem."

"Likewise, Mr. Kirkland." Elizabeth found her self-possession as she said it, and she could not help but be intrigued as she nodded and reciprocated the man's kind manner though he likely did not notice it now since he looked off to the distance all abashed.

"Aww… only Kirkland, mem, please." If she did not know better, the man, about the age of her husband, was blushing like a lad under the red of his burly facial hair. She could hear it more than see it as not only the light was waning, but the servant continued to look between the ground, the now hardly-existent horizon, and her husband. Finally, Kirkland pulled himself up and slapped Fitzwilliam on the shoulder while laughing and breaking free a little of his nervousness. "A real and tidy wife. Aye, right I would 'ave said!"

"Mr. – well, Kirkland, is this truly so unbelievable?" Elizabeth could no longer contain herself as she posed the question to this strange man her husband now gaped at, and despite a servant being so familiar, she was entirely charmed and amused until she felt Fitzwilliam move his hand to the side of her waist pulling her a little closer in his umbrage – feigned or very real – she did not know and certainly could not care feeling so possessed.

The servant looked again to her husband and not so much her though he directed his words her way. "Yes, mem. It is a mighty miracle when I received his letter telling me he went off so willingly into the parson's noose. As miraculous as water becoming wine… this lad is and always has been as feart of the lasses-"

"Good grief Kirkland! Send someone for our trunks. I shall find you later; you can be damned sure. It is blasted dark out here." Darcy almost tugged Elizabeth over the stone and wooden bridge which led to the gate of the barbican, opened and welcoming. Before they went through the wall, her husband stopped to properly place her hand on her his arm, and then he turned his head over his shoulder. "Get out of those old rags, Kirkland. You look like a prize idiot."

Elizabeth had real trouble keeping a straight face as her husband stood taller, pulled his greatcoat down with one hand, and muttered under his breath as they proceeded to the massive ancient, arched wood door of the castle. She heard him say – and not to her in particular – something about the next morning, a good English chopper, and showing Kirkland just who was feart.

Breathing in the cold, clean air, she patted her husband's arm and prepared to enter her first ever castle swearing beyond hope to someday soon be a right and proper queen to this castle's king... or at least his friend if she were to be so lucky.