Friends, it has been a while. Thank you for your patience. I made A LOT of changes. Apologies for that. I know it can be frustrating when a WIP is altered but a few plot points weren't working and when I pulled a few threads – well the whole sweater wanted to come undone. So here is my plan – I have published the new chapters 1-32 in chapter 1(which didn't change so technically old chapter 1 is still there just alongside about 63K other words) so that people who start new can do that and then jump to this one and go from there. If you want to read it with all the modifications you can go there and do that. Otherwise, I will try and summarize the important plot changes. I have altered characters a little too – just be warned. Okay so here's the main changes from the original version:

Mrs. B is gone (died when Lizzy was 15) – I appreciated the arguments for her to stay but in the end this was needed for where I wanted the story to go

Jane is not Mr. B's daughter – rumors abound - that she is Mrs. but not Mr B's daughter but officially she is their ward – distant family brought to Longbourn at around age 2. Just prior to Ch 33 we learn from Mr. Phillips she is Mr. B's elder brother's son (he died right around when she was born – either way wasn't going to marry Mrs. B who left area had Jane, returned alone, left Jane with relatives, Mr. B married her and they brought Jane home as ward after Lizzy is born

So – Darcy's concern is less the Bennet's behavior and more their inferior position in society, which is mostly same as book even if estate is more prosperous and this scandal. His proposal is less insulting but does reference Jane which does not go over well with Lizzy

Honestly more changed but. Those are the main points I think you need to understand to read on form here. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 33

"I believe I accused you earlier of improper pride, but this . . . should you not rebel at the idea of offering twice, in the span of one day, for a lady who has refused you. And refused you quite unkindly."

"I was right."

"About?"

"You truly do not understand love, Elizabeth," he shook his head, eyes sad and downcast.

"Then explain it to me!"

"Love is not something you explain." His exasperation matched hers, not for the first time.

"Then how am I to understand it?" This, this was fundamentally the problem – she needed a guide map, a treatise, an example to show her what it was supposed to look like, feel like, act like. The only couple in her life who professed love and seemed happy were her aunt and uncle Gardiner and they were both so unlike her she didn't know how she could have the same kind of happiness they had achieved. Maybe only calm, gentle people got love – not overly opinionated, overworked young ladies who were constantly told they needed to behave differently and want a different life than the one they chose.

"Perhaps we should start with the conditions on your inheritance?"

"Conversation with you is like chasing a feral barn cat." When he raised a brow in question she explained, "I never know where you are going to go next, and I don't think I am ever going to catch you."

"I cannot miss the opportunity to point out you have caught me already, quite thoroughly, but we had decided to progress to another topic and so we shall," he smiled a little sadly and then said, "I assume that the condition listed in the codicil regarding Longbourn's profitability is not a problem."

Again, it was not really a question and so Elizabeth did not feel the need to answer beyond a slight nod. Really, among the provisions placed on her inheriting, the one regarding Longbourn's financial viability appeared the least personal, but it felt personal to her. It was what she had dedicated herself to, to the exclusion of almost everything else, for her whole life. Although money had not been her goal it had come as a result of her work, her talent and her love of her home. That felt very personal. And so condition one could be met with no difficulty – Longbourn was not mortgaged and was producing an income greater than that listed in the codicil.

"Obviously your mother has passed," he went on. Although this seemed a particularly harsh condition Elizabeth understood it. This was a piece of her family history that was well known. Roger Bennet had had no love for her mother. Elizabeth herself had picked up on this as a child and Mrs. Bennet made sure the girls knew this, did everything she could to make herself the heroine of her stories regarding the battle between herself after he passed away. As soon as she was old enough to discern truth from . . . embellishment, Elizabeth understood that her grandfather had resented her mother's spendthrift ways, something she herself could relate to, and worried that her forceful presence would overwhelm his lackadaisical son when he died, a fear that proved true. Again, she nodded. Condition two, had been met five years ago with the untimely passing of Mrs. Frances Bennet.

"That leaves the final provision." He said no more, and Elizabeth did not know what she could say. The final provision, though reasonable on its face was the one that would be the hardest to meet – the one over which she had the least control. When her uncle mentioned the codicil, hope had grabbed hold of Elizabeth's heart. After he had made plain the entirety of what it contained, its language and conditions, she almost felt worse than before she knew of its existence. The codicil allowed her to inherit but three conditions needed to be met in order for that to happen. The final one involved her marrying and had three provisions of its own. One would be difficult to fulfill. This difficulty she would have already understood as considerable was now clearly much more than that due to her father's interpretation of his deathbed promise to her grandfather. The provisions of the final condition were:

First - She needed to marry.

Second - She needed to marry before she reached her majority, an event which would take place this coming May.

Third, and here was where hope had, at the very least, been dimmed, - She needed to marry a gentleman with the consent of her father. Her father, who had done nothing but support and encourage her match with Mr. Collins. Always believing his promotion of the alliance had to do with the preservation of Longbourn and the Bennet family Elizabeth now understood it was more complicated.

Due to a previously scheduled client meeting Elizabeth and Darcy had to leave her uncle's office before the threesome could make any real plans for what to do regarding the information which was new to at least two of the parties.

"We must discuss all of this with your father, Elizabeth. He has been unwilling to . . . with your help I am certain we can . . . that something can be done." Mr. Phillips had said, clearly believing a solution was possible and excited it was out in the open. As they moved toward the door he added, "I am happy to know you have an intelligent young man by your side who is willing to navigate this foolishness." It was the first real sign he gave of holding any ill will toward her father and grandfather, but Elizabeth was too embarrassed about his reference to the relationship of herself and Mr. Darcy to notice, she would only consider it later.

Now she was left alone with that gentleman and in her exasperation sighed, "it would seem the other provisions do not matter in the least as I will likely not be able to satisfy the final one."

"May I be entirely frank?"

She laughed, "now you ask my permission?" But then nodded her assent.

"If it were possible to obtain the permission of your father, would you marry me?"

This was very frank. Elizabeth offered equal frankness in return.

"Would you want me to accept you only out of a desire to claim an inheritance?"

"You asked me to explain love to you," he began, in what seemed to her a non sequitur. "I cannot speak for any other gentleman or lady who has loved or been loved but I can tell you that if it is within my power to give you that which you desire most, I will give it to you."

"And yet you wrestled with whether to offer for me due to your elevated and my inferior social standing?" she challenged. She had to remember that. Remind herself that she could not trust this. He made it sound too simple, too easy. Though her life could scarcely be described as hard, it neither could be called simple or easy, seemed to be getting more complicated by the moment.

"I regret the way I spoke and expressed myself to you, but the sentiment is of a piece with what I am trying to tell you." She must have looked as confused as she felt because he went on to explain. "I did not want to offer for you without being confident of my own feelings and my ability to protect you from what may have been, may still be, an unpleasant reaction from some of my family, let alone the rest society, the society in which I move."

"How did you do that?"

"Become assured of my feelings or find ways to protect you?"

"Both, either, neither . . . I don't know." Elizabeth exclaimed, throwing her arms up. "I don't know that any of this matters, but if you are asking if I would accept you I feel I must understand why you were so hesitant to offer for me in the first place."

Darcy smiled at this. One that had become, much to her chagrin, a favorite of hers – a little bit of teeth and a light in those eyes that told her he was content, though that seemed out of place at the moment. He looked at her thoughtfully before answering.

"I promise to explain everything to your satisfaction, but would you be amenable to tabling that discussion in favour of one regarding how we might meet the other aspect of the final condition of the codicil – ie if you accepted me how could we convince you father?"

"Very well." It seemed no matter what they discussed she would be blushing, confused and/or anxious so she may as well get right to the heart of what needed to be decided. Could they actually find a way for her to inherit? She was anxious to know if he had a plan, hardly able to imagine what it could be.

They walked on in silence for a few minutes and she wondered . . . did she just agree to marry Mr. Darcy if her father consented? No, they simply agreed on the order of the discussion. First, how to convince her father. Second, if they could suit after all.

They discussed how to approach Mr. Bennet, what arguments might best persuade him and even how to proceed with Mr. Collins if they were successful. They agreed on it being best for Elizabeth to broach the subject alone first, that Mr. Phillips would be a valuable ally and should be deployed as such and that though it might aid their cause no schemes would yet be employed to force Mr. Bennet's hand. They diverged on when Mr. Darcy might enter the arena (Mr. Darcy wanted to be at the ready outside the door when Elizabeth first spoke to her father, she favoured a more wait and see approach to his involvement), the yet in the schemes proviso (though disguise of every sort was his abhorrence Mr. Darcy thought they needed to be ready to . . . he would not say exactly what but blushed red at even the implication. Elizabeth had had enough of scandal and would not hear of it) and what to tell her sisters.

"I am simply saying it seems premature to alert them at this time," he said, reiterating the same point he had already made in response to the same point she had already made.

"Are you discomfited at the thought of them knowing you have offered for me again, or more accurately are willing to marry me should we gain my father's consent? I told you, they know of the initial proposal already." She really could not understand his obstinacy on this point.

"That is where my discomfort lays," he declared throwing his arms wide. They had ended up in a grove of trees just north of Longbourn's orchards. The large willows provided privacy, three lined the road and several more stood round in a small near circle. Their fallen compatriots offered seating should wanderers feel so inclined, Darcy and Elizabeth had yet to suffer this particular inclination.

"In my sisters knowing you are still willing to marry me?" Elizabeth asked, thinking this made sense, she could not fault him for not wanting anyone to know he had been rejected. Though she could not apologize for having told them or her intention to tell them of this conversation as well, she could sympathize with his wounded pride.

"No, though I am astonished at it myself, I find I do not care who knows either that I proposed or that you rejected me," the fact that he still seemed to choke slightly on those final two words might have belied this statement, his next words convinced her of their veracity, however. "Compared to the pain of contemplating a life without you the mortification of rejection is less than nothing I assure you."

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth had intended to admonish him. To remind him this was not the time for feelings, but tactics and strategies. Everything else muddied the waters and got in the way, but she heard, and she was certain he did too, her own strong emotion though she could not name what precisely it was. Whatever it was he heard in the whisper of his name it drew him to her and before she knew what had happened her hands were clasped in his. Though quite used to men, gentle and otherwise, even in such close proximity, the sensation produced by Mr. Darcy's closeness, or the intensity of his blue-green gaze or the slow circles his thumb drew on the inside of her palm were entirely, entirely new. She freed one hand and laid it on his face, experimentally. His cheek was soft beneath her finger, his jaw firm under her palm. There was just a hint of stumble that tickled her as she pressed slightly.

"Elizabeth, please tell me," the emotions that animated his words were far more clear. Desire, hope, fear.

Never before had everything been so quiet inside Elizabeth's mind. She knew they were meant to be talking of plans and that nothing had changed when he took her hand and she touched his face and yet . . . no thoughts would come, no worries could take hold in the face of the overwhelming and entirely new sensations she was experiencing. Later she would be unable to discern, and oh how she would try, if it was this absence of thought or the presence of physical desire that drove her to do what she did next. Leaning forward and going up on her toes she pressed her lips to those of Mr. Darcy. His initial lack of response barely registered because there were still new sensations to experience. Just as she began to pull away Mr. Darcy seemed to finally understand what was happening and responded in kind. His hands, which had still held one of hers came to cradle her face and he kissed her lips gently for a minute or two before moving across her cheek to her ear where his whispered words wreaked as much havoc as his actions.

"My dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth, will you marry me? I cannot live without you. You have become all to me. Even if your father does not consent, promise me we will find a way. In return I promise you will not have to give up Longbourn. Please, my love, my only love, marry me."

Elizabeth could not breath, much less think. Did Mr. Darcy just propose again? Sighing deeply she dropped her hands, which had found their way into Mr. Darcy's curly, and as it turned out soft, hair. She took a step back and several deep breaths in an attempt to compose herself. It worked only somewhat, for as her senses returned, she found her temper rising. One look at her companion softened it. Mr. Darcy stood an arm's length away, his now unkempt hair sticking out in all directions, his chest visibly rising and falling as he worked to steady his breathing and his eyes seeking her verdict. Now that she understood it a little, the power she held over this man astonished her.

"I hold two things against you presently, Mr. Darcy" she said, "surprised that her voice held any semblance of normalcy.

"And they are?"

"One, how is it you were able to do or say anything coherent while you kissed me?" Elizabeth was certain if she had been asked her own name in exchange for the security of Longbourn she would not have been able to answer as soon as Mr. Darcy began to participate in that kiss. It rankled her somewhat that he seemed not nearly as affected.

He laughed, not a fully belly laugh, she still had not heard that from him, but had resolved to achieve it some day. This laugh was a puff of air pushed out on a smile. She smiled in response.

"I did not even know what I was saying," he confessed. Her face fell. A moment earlier Elizabeth would have said she did not know what she thought or how she felt about his passionate confessions, avowals and proposal. It was all so. . . . emotional. She needed time to consider it and they still did not have a plan. It was romantic, but not practical. His retraction seemed precisely calculated to demonstrate that she had needed them in a way she had not before understood. Her world was full of schedules, designs, arrangements and preparations – by necessity. Love, or the prosect of it had scared her precisely because she could not seem to fit it into the paradigm she already knew. Now she could see that she needed something outside that world, someone to show her, shock her, into leaping without a plan when, and if, she decided it was worth it. And now she was ready to leap, but Mr. Darcy . . . was speaking again.

"Every word was true, Elizabeth. I simply meant I did not plan to say anything, to press you again so soon, but as much as I could not seem to help, but hold you, kiss you I could not seem to stop my words from coming – they came right from my heart and did not consult me on their way out. My first proposal was designed to appeal to your organized and practical nature. I see now that was a miscalculation. I had planned to give the second, third, fourth and fifth proposals some additional thought."

"There is still one more thing I hold against you, Mr. Darcy, though perhaps I should now say there are two additional things" Elizabeth said, seeming to ignore his words entirely even when her whole being was focused on them.

"And those are?"

"That you waited until your second proposal to speak such perfect words, that I am forced to accept you and that because you used such perfect words in your second proposal that I shall not have the distinction of being able to tell our grandchildren fifty years hence that I received five proposals from their Grandfather because his first four were so terrible."

Elizabeth stood smiling wide. The relief, assurance and hope she felt at having uttered the words had an effect like the lifting of a weight from her shoulders. Mr. Darcy hovered nearby neither speaking nor moving. As was his custom he regarded her steadily, searching her eyes, she imagined, for any signs of uncertainty or lack of conviction. Let him look, she thought, for he would find none. Though she still had no idea of the how she did know the what, the why and the who and in this moment that was sufficient. When he had exhausted his search of her eyes and face Mr. Darcy took a tentative step forward.

"Elizabeth, you are too generous to trifle with me," he said, cautiously, stopping within reach of her, but not reaching for her.

"You are generous to say so, but I am not certain that is true, however you may rest assured I am not trifling with you. I am accepting you under the terms listed in your second, far superior, proposal." Her face hurt from smiling so long and so wide. He smiled but remained wary.

"Which terms?"

"There are only two which are non-negotiable and fundamental."

"That we preserve Longbourn," he said, she nodded.

"And that I am your only love," she said, smiling, if possible, even wider.

Darcy swept her into his arms before laughingly telling her, "I agree to those terms." He swung her around, holding her tightly before releasing her.

"You chastised me for my coherence while you kissed me," she did not miss the emphasis on who initiated the kiss, but chose to remain silent not because he was right, he was, but because she wanted to know what he intended to say next. "It seems, however; you were able to hear and retain the information communicated to you so you were hardly swept away."

Was she really having a conversation with her newly betrothed about who was more carried away by their kisses? Elizabeth decided being engaged was a lot more fun in her present circumstance that she had ever imagined it could be. Likely because her imaginings had always been attached to certainly, decidedly unfun, gentleman.

"I see your point," she offered," but your words were not divorced from the . . . proceedings and so I do not think it can be said I was not focused on . . . what we were doing whereas it seemed as though you would have needed to pay some attention to be able to formulate such persuasive and flowery prose, designed to evoke a positive response."

"You are giving me a great deal to work with, Elizabeth, and any other time I would be eager to explain the, many, flaws in your reasoning, but right now I would like to reconvene our proceedings."

"I agree to that proposal as well," she said, smiling mischievously and going eagerly into his open arms. "But first I must know what it was that discomforted you."

"What?"

"The start of this whole argument . . .'

"Contested conversation," he countered.

She nodded and continued, "I was trying to discern why you did not want me to tell my sisters and in response to something, I still know not what you said – that is where my discomfort lays – where?"

He had begun stroking the stray strands of her hair from her face and was looking at her with open love and adoration. Her head was swimming.

"Please use small words in your response, Sir, as I am not entirely sure my mind is working," she told him.

"You are a delight, Elizabeth," he said on a laugh. "My discomfort, my frustration, lay in your continuing to misunderstand me. I cared not if others knew of my love for you, my desire to marry you, your rejection of me. I cared that you did not seem to understand my willingness to do whatever I could to protect you, to make you happy."

Though she had been sure nothing could have prevented her from kissing Mr. Darcy the moment he stopped speaking, his words did just that. They were too pure, too earnest, too everything.

"I am not used to it," she said, inadequately, truthfully.

"I know. I should have seen. That has been your role."

Of course, he understood. Mr. Darcy was not perfect. She had seen enough of his imperfections to know that, but in that moment she was convinced he was perfect for her.

"Yes, but I should have understood you better. As you have understood me."

"I have not been so wonderful about it, my love, and you are here amongst your home and family, certainly, but also all of your burdens. I am, in many ways unencumbered and that allows me to view things in a way you cannot. At Pemberley I can be . . .

"Taciturn and unbearable?"

"Yes exactly."

She wanted to ask more about Pemberley, though they had often spoken of it, now thinking of it as a future home . . . but those were conversations that could be had in drawing rooms whereas if she intended to steal a few more kisses she needed to get to it.

They did return to Longbourn before dark. Just barely.