Author's Note:

Hi, guys! I can't believe the response to the last chapter! I never got so many wonderful reviews for one single chapter in this story and I'm still stunned! Thank you so much to each of you! I enjoyed reading your theories and speculations. Really, you made me smile and chuckle at times. Thank you! I'm half tempted to post cliffhangers more often haha (I'm joking, don't worry, I wouldn't play with you like that).

Now, back to the story. I'm a little worried about this chapter. So much so, that I almost went back and rewrote the whole thing when I was writing it. Spoiler alert: don't worry, Elizabeth was not truly hurt physically, only scared, but the story was so happy and fluffy that I felt it might look like I'm trying to fish for plot or something. The thing is that I wrote this to show that the ton could be really shitty and not everything would be easy as Mrs. Darcy, especially if they believe you are a fortune hunter. I realise that there are many times when this story borders the unrealistic, so I wanted to show there is both good and bad in the ton.

Many of you wondered why would Elizabeth move away from her family or why would the Darcys lose sight of her? Well, I think Lizzy is unafraid and independent, which doesn't mean she's irresponsible, but she would not think that stepping away for a minute would be too dangerous. And with the Darcys, I made it a point to show that they were watchful and kept an eye on her during the ball, from the moment they entered and Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne walked behind their children, to supper, but it's only natural to relax at some point, especially if you're having fun (I mean, how many times have you lost a friend at a party?), and Fitzwilliam doesn't want to be a controlling husband to a wife he knows is very independent and would not put up with it.

All that being said (sorry for the long note), I hope you still like this chapter.

Stay safe!

Jen

Once in the carriage, Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne wondered at the sudden need for departure. They sat side by side with the younger couple in front of them. They knew Elizabeth was a social and extroverted person, and they thought it strange that she, rather than Fitzwilliam, would wish to leave so early. Although they had no clue as to the cause, they did notice the way both her hands clung to their son's hand.

17.

Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne knew their children wanted space and so, when they arrived at Darcy House, they all retired immediately. Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had allowed Rogers and Emma to retire after they left for the ball so they would not wait for them, and so now the married couple had to help each other. Fitzwilliam noticed that his wife was strangely silent as she undressed him. He knew something had upset her, and he was dying to know what had happened and how he could fix it, but he made a great effort to wait until she was ready to speak to him. Once he was only on his shirt and breeches, he changed into a nightshirt and then started undressing her. She did not speak as he worked on undoing the buttons of her gown nor did she speak when he removed her petticoat or unlaced her stays. He was proud of the speed with which he managed to perform this last task; a task he had never performed previous to their marriage.

Finally, she sat on the bed and he knelt in front of her.

"I am not sure if I should tell you. I want to, and I think I should, but I fear your reaction."

Fitzwilliam was hurt. He started thinking that perhaps she did not trust him as much as he trusted her. And even worse was that she seemed to fear him.

"You can always tell me anything, Elizabeth. I would never hurt you."

"Oh, no," she said, looking down at him. "I do not fear you. I fear for you."

That confused him as much as it relieved him. "I do not understand."

Elizabeth sighed as he reached for the garter on her left leg.

"It is about Lord Brooke," she finally confessed.

He dropped her garter and looked up at her, feeling the blood leave his face.

"What did he do?" he heard himself asking.

"He made me a proposition."

Fitzwilliam took a deep breath and tried to calm himself as he took her left stocking off. He knew this would happen, of course. Women had made propositions to him several times, why would it not happen to his beautiful bride? Still, he had not expected it to be so soon. He tried to focus on her leg, so long and shapely, so strong and lovely. Completely his.

"Tell me everything, Elizabeth."

"I will. I will tell you everything only if you promise not to do anything reckless and dangerous."

"Such as run him through for making indecent propositions to my wife?"

"Yes."

He swallowed the bile he felt rising on his throat. Should he even promise that? Would he be able to keep his promise if he did? He knew he needed to know everything, and so he said:

"I promise I will not kill him."

"Or challenge him to duel," she added.

"I promise I will not challenge him to a duel, but I want to know everything, Elizabeth."

"Very well," she took a deep breath. "I did not wish to bother Mother and Father, but I needed some air, so I walked to the balcony and, unbeknownst to me, he followed me."

Fitzwilliam tried to distract himself as he took her other garter and slid the last stocking down her leg. He took comfort in this task. The fact that he had to concentrate to treat her gently helped him control himself.

"Must you hear every word?" she asked timidly.

"Yes."

"He told me I was the most beautiful woman in the room and that it was a pity that I had met you before he met me. He said that had he known me first, he would have made me a proposal different from the one you made to me, but that I would have been happy and covered in jewels one way or another. He told me you had a reputation of being a cold and distant man and that he would not be so with me. He said that there was still a chance for us, he and I, if you did not... if you were not... affectionate enough to please a young and lively bride. And he kept leering at my bosom. He said he could offer more than you could in terms of both money and connections. He said he had heard I was a country girl and that surely country girls were wild and passionate. And I stood there, listening to him, I could not even speak. I was so astonished! I had expected snide remarks, but I had never thought I would receive... How could he?!"

Fitzwilliam sighed and sat down next to her. It seemed as if it had not so bad as he had first thought. Looks and words were not worthy of duels.

"The ton is filled with immoral people pretending to be respectable. Did you say anything at all or did you simply walk out?"

"I finally found my voice and said no. I told him I was a respectable married woman. He said that you need not know. I told him I love my husband and he laughed. I then tried to leave, but he was standing right in front of the door that led to the ballroom, so when I walked past, he grabbed my wrist and tried to kiss me. I slapped him and he grabbed my other wrist."

"My God..." he trembled. "Elizabeth... my darling..." he cupped her cheek. "Tell me, did he hurt you?" his anger was gone, replaced by overwhelming fear and concern.

"No. He certainly tried. He tried to kiss me again, and I could not slap him, for he was then holding both my wrists. I could not scream, for if someone found us in that situation they would say I was trying to seduce him. It would only lead to scandal. I could almost see it; all those people who had slighted me saying 'I knew she was a fortune hunter, not three months into their marriage and she tries to seduce an earl.' I did not wish to bring shame and scandal to the Darcy name, so I did not scream."

"I could not care less about scandals, Elizabeth! You are the most important thing to me! How could you think I would put your safety second?"

"I did not have much time to think, Fitzwilliam. I... I thought of Georgiana."

"I am sorry," he sighed. "I am not angry with you. Did he kiss you?"

She shook her head. "I used my knee."

"Your knee?"

"I could not defend myself with my hands."

"I do not understand. How did you use your knee?"

Elizabeth blushed and looked down at his groin. His eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh... I am glad."

"Apparently it is very painful, for it distracted him long enough. The second he let go of my wrists, I ran inside to find you."

He put his hands on her arms and ran them down to her hands. He held her forearms, palms up, so they were illuminated by the few candles still burning. He saw reddish marks around her small, delicate wrists, and he almost got dressed and left the house to look for Lord Brooke.

"Oh, I did not see that," she whispered.

He tried to control his anger as he raised one of her hands and kissed the wrist, before repeating the process with her other hand.

"I was afraid," she admitted in a low voice. "I did not know how far he would go or if I was strong enough to stop him."

"God," he cried out. She was the strongest person he had ever known. She was fearless and knowing that man had scared her killed him inside. "I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I have failed you."

"No," she frowned, cupping his face in her hand and making him look at her. "It was not your fault."

"It is my duty to protect you. I should never have left your side."

"You shall stay by my side every second for the rest of our lives? That is not possible."

He took her hands and kissed both wrists again. "I am sorry."

"Stop. Just hold me, Fitzwilliam. If you want to do something for me, do this: stop blaming yourself and hold me."

What could he say to that? He nodded, kissed her forehead, and lay down in bed with her, holding her as close to his heart as it was physically possible.

I do not own any Pride and Prejudice properties, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.

Characters and situations, created by Jane Austen, are taken from Pride and Prejudice and from the Pride and Prejudice (1995) adaptation created by Simon Langton and distributed by BBC.

This story is released under the GPL/CC BY: verbatim copying and distribution of this entire work are permitted worldwide, without royalty, in any medium, provided attribution is preserved.