A/N: Thank you all once again for your encouraging words. They make me smile, and sometimes even laugh. I only hope the progression of this story does not disappoint those with specific expectations. This chapter is on the shorter side but another should be ready in a few days if I can get the time to check it over.

The two Bennet sister's departed Netherfield the following day after morning service. Darcy had had no more direct conversation with Elizabeth in the intervening hours, despite being unexpectedly left in her sole company for half an hour. He had feigned a teasing dogged adherence to her new rules, but in truth, he had done it for his own heart. Something felt broken open that he could not define. She was doing all that he had asked of her – she had allowed him freedom without expectations – yet there was a cavernous ache inside him now, which he could not justify. The edges of this feeling even smarted with a strange sense of betrayal when he thought of her blithesome manner. It made no sense. He had told Elizabeth clearly, several times, that his intentions were for an advantageous match. Yet the apparent ease with which she acceded to this information had left him questioning her regard. Frustrated, Darcy retired early Sunday evening, unable to bear the abrasive elation of Miss Bingley and the shadow of Elizabeth's departure simultaneously, yet sleep was a long time coming.

At first light Monday morning, Darcy dressed and personally saddled his own horse, before taking to the lands north of Netherfield Hall. He rode for a solid two and a half hours, perhaps more, exploring terrain he had not yet encountered. Upon his return, he partook of a quiet breakfast in his own rooms and caught up on his correspondence. When he picked up his book to read, he paused, remembering Elizabeth returning it to him the morning she had taken her leave. Her smile, as she had thanked him, had been so guileless and innocent, yet he had unfairly doubted her in some measure. He closed his eyes, picturing her face. Finally Darcy admitted to himself, he was unsettled that he had fallen for her, but she had left this experiment unscathed. Why could she not have loved him in return? Because you warned her not to, you fool, he silently berated himself. This is not about her. You could not find a truer soul in all of Christendom. This is about you, Darcy. This is your issue. Don't blame the innocent.

Walking decisively to his desk, Darcy set down the book of poetry and took out pen and paper.

Dearest Elizabeth,

I owe you an apology. Several in fact. I regret not giving you a sincere farewell. I was stingy with my heart instead of generous like you. Why? Because I am unworthy of the friendship you bestowed upon me. I expected the honest confession of my feelings for you would in some measure engage and open up your heart, while at the same time telling you it would never be possible to have mine wholly. I despise my own arrogance. I am too used to having all at my feet and yet you, with a strength of character and love of life that I have never seen rivalled, have given from your heart with liberality while protecting your own with circumspection, showing me without words the weakness and vanity within myself. I have been self-indulgently sullen for the last 24 hours since your departure, but I am determined to make this pledge to you: I will endeavour to live up to your legacy of generous friendship by employing all that I can of your instructions. I will pray for you daily; that love and happiness might find and bless you, bringing you unequalled joy. You, dear Elizabeth, are the finest woman I know, and having you beside me, laughing with me, teasing me,

his pen paused here, remembering sensations, before continuing,

leaning into my arm, and feeling the vibration of your laughter through my body, have been the most exquisite moments of my life. Though my earlier words may seem to contradict this, I am truly glad that you have come through this time with a heart unscathed. I will carry you in mine for the rest of my life, with gratitude, respect, and fondness.

Your true and faithful friend,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Darcy set down his pen and read it over. He could never deliver it to her of course. Letters were only allowed between betrothed or married couples, but he felt better for writing it. He committed himself to the task of reading it each passing day until he had it memorised, so as to stay true to his words and intentions.

Taking out a new sheet of paper he wrote down a list for the coming weeks.

- Visit the Bennets in neighbourly fashion

- Introduce Georgiana to Elizabeth (suggest correspondence if G is willing)

- Seek conversation with one new acquaintance at each accepted invitation

- Compliments to a collective group

- Be as generous with my heart to Elizabeth, as she has been to me

- Inform Elizabeth that she has my friendship forever and provide her a point of contact should she ever need my help

Satisfied with these projects, he put the papers out of sight of any passing staff, quitted his rooms and re-engaged with those at Netherfield with tolerable cheer.

The following day, Darcy joined Bingley, in what they both termed a courtesy visit to the Bennets. Passing through Meryton, their eyes were caught by the sight of the very sisters they were in search of, outside the Milliner's shop. Dismounting, the two men approached, Darcy soon corroborating Bingley's salutations and good wishes, while endeavouring to offer eye contact with a nod of civility to each member of the group. His heart leapt with joy at Elizabeth's smiling curtsy, but he forced himself to be attentive to everyone. Moments later his notice fell upon another, and this time his body froze, while disgust and rage coursed through him. The only visible movement was the slow clenching of Darcy's fists. Fear flittered across the other man's face, his skin turning pale before offering Darcy a slight nod of acknowledgement. The recipient of that small civility did not even deign to respond.

'Excuse me ladies,' Darcy said, before putting a safe distance between himself and what his fists dreamt of doing.

By the time Bingley caught up with him, Darcy was under better control.

'What just happened back there, Darcy?'

'The man, Wickham; there is enmity between us. I did not want to cause a scene in front of the ladies, or embarrass you.'

'I see. Well, fair enough then,' replied Bingley. He waited to see if more was coming. Nothing.

'Do you want to talk about it?' Bingley finally asked.

'Honestly – no,' replied Darcy.

The silence stretched between them for several minutes, until suddenly Darcy spoke with firm resolve. 'Bingley, I apologise but I need to leave.' Turning his horse around, Darcy spurred it into a canter, calling over his shoulder, 'I will explain later.' With those brief words, Darcy was disappearing back whence they had come.

Bingley stared at the back of his friend, then shook his head. Perhaps Darcy just needs a long hard gallop, he thought to himself. He will come home when he is ready.