"Darcy, finally risen, eh? Was wondering when you'd get up," Bingley said, barely looking up from his newsprint as Darcy entered the breakfast room. She stood uncertainly, glancing at each person in the room. As her eyes finally fell on her own figure Elizabeth Bennet, she felt a physical jolt reverberate of shock through her body.

Good lord, what was she wearing? Some terrible pink concoction. Elizabeth herself would never wear such a thing.

She barely recognized the dress, under the added embellishments: a glittering broach (where had that come from?), bows tied around each sleeve that she never would have had the patience for, and finally a bright red satin ribbon around her waist. What has he done? She looked ridiculous. It looked like something Lydia would wear if taste and money were no obstacle. Elizabeth swallowed and made her way to the table, trying very hard not to let her mouth twist in a disapproving manner.

She had no memory of moving to the chair or sliding into it, only a moment later she found herself there, seated near a smiling Caroline Bingley. "Your brow is very fierce. What ails you today, Darcy?"

Caroline Bingley had never given her more than a moment of her attention, and now the woman was leaning in and nearly purring up at her in a most ridiculously fawning manner.

Elizabeth's glanced at her former self at the table, but the shock was too much. She looked away quickly. "I am well. My rest was interrupted is all," she replied. Her voice was a revelation. It was quite low and baritone and speaking made it vibrate in her chest. What an odd sensation.

"Charles, Darcy did not sleep well," Caroline said. "What are some good recipes for sleep toddies?"

"I heard," Bingley said before he bit into his egg and toast. "Only I'm not convinced that is my problem to solve."

Caroline laughed as though it were a marvelous joke. "Pay no mind to him; my brother is unkind. I'm sure the cook will know a good recipe and we shall make it right as rain." As she spoke, she touched Elizabeth's sleeve in a forward manner. Elizabeth instinctively pulled her hand away. Caroline was all over Darcy like a bad rash.

"I slept poorly as well," Elizabeth Bennet said across the table, which made Caroline turn and look at her.

"My apologies if the beds here at Netherfield were not to your liking," Caroline said coolly and turned smiling back to Darcy. "Charles, we should have the maid see to that."

Elizabeth Bennet tightened at the mouth. "That is not necessary. I am simply not feeling myself.".

Elizabeth stared back at her former self. She was paler than she normally looked, her hair combed differently.

Mr. Darcy is that you? But it must be him, Elizabeth thought. And he must be as desperate to return to his body as she was for hers. Elizabeth cleared her throat.

"Miss Bennet, I, er, do hope your sister is improving. Might I speak to you about a private matter for a moment?" Elizabeth smiled at Charles and his sisters. "I have a question for you that I think only you may be able to answer."

From the corner of her vision, Elizabeth saw Caroline Bingley's eyebrows rise with surprise.

Darcy nodded and rose stiffly and led the way out of the breakfast room. As he walked in front of her, Elizabeth noted his odd gait and nearly smirked. He was unused to skirts and very nearly kept stepping on his. Ha, she very nearly said so to him.

Elizabeth walked quickly to an adjacent sitting room, her own feet nearly stumbling on the unfamiliar heavy boot. She decided not to say anything.

"Have a care with my boot," Darcy said. "I'll not have those ruined. I just had them made for me in London."

Elizabeth's face flushed with indignation and she desperately wished to loosen her caveat. How did men wear these?

"You may wish to learn how to walk gracefully with a skirt. Hold it this way so that you do not step while you walk." She leaned close and showed him how to grasp the fabric while walking.

A look of smugness left Darcy's face as he struggled with the fabric, before finally nearly getting it.

"There," Elizabeth said. "Now try not to break your–my–neck as you walk."

She paused and gave her former self a long look. "It is you, Mr. Darcy, is it not?"

Behind her calm features, Darcy's eyes looked fierce. "Of course it is I!" He hissed. "What is the meaning of this? Is this some sort of spell? Are you not the cause? I have heard beautiful women be described as sorceresses, but I've thought that was fiction. Until now."

Elizabeth set her lips and ignored that he had just called her beautiful. "I do not know what caused this queerness. What is the last you remember of being yourself?"

"I went to bed in as myself the night before. Before that, I spent the day reading. You joined me briefly in the library."

"The library," Elizabeth repeated. "Yes, we toyed with the book of ancient Latin."

Darcy nodded and stroked his chin while thinking. "Could that have been the catalyst? Reading Latin?"

"You studied Latin in school. I did not! What ancient curse did you unloose on us?" Then she rolled her eyes. "Do not touch your chin, for goodness sake! I cannot comprehend a more masculine gesture than stroking nonexistent beard hair."

Darcy's hand fell away and he looked chagrined. "But how do you manage to move in all this," his hands flicked at his skirts, "material? I am near to suffocating in this."

The idea of Darcy in skirts made her pause. It was, well….humorous, despite her own discomfort. She felt the side of her lip curve upward. She schooled her face to seriousness.

"Do not smirk at me, Miss Bennet–even in my clothes, you have all the masculinity of a…well, a well-bred young lady."

Elizabeth now did smile. "Thank you very much."

"Yes, well, your lady's posture does not suit me. Stand confidently, your legs splayed, like so." He modeled the pose. "Do not crouch timidly. You are Mr. Darcy. You are important. You are cowed by no one."

Elizabeth mimicked his stance, standing with her legs spread and pushing her chest out. "That's better."

Darcy glanced at the door. "We cannot be in here long. We must strike a bargain. We must agree to stageplay as the other until this is undone. You must act as Darcy so we are not dragged away to an asylum. I cannot have my reputation sullied. Nor can you, even if you are simply a country miss."

A country miss? Elizabeth scoffed at his words.

"I simply meant you are a person of little consequence.., er, you being institutionalized would not cause a scandal," Darcy tried to dig himself out of the hole he was in.

Just then a knock came. Bingley's voice called through the door. "Hullo? Darcy, are you in there? Miss Bennet, I wished to inquire after your sister."

Darcy nodded at Elizabeth and opened the door and saw Bingley's concerned face. "You need to find my sister, Jane."

Darcy grimaced.

Elizabeth stepped forward. "Apologies, my good man. There was a neighbor selling a horse Miss Bennet was good enough to inform me of. But, no, Miss Bennet, my own horse, Titan, is quite enough."

Bingley looked a bit crestfallen. "Oh? Why did you not tell us both of it, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth thought quickly. "Miss Bennet was thinking it might make a surprise gift…" Elizabeth said quickly, "for my sister." Elizabeth swallowed, trying to recall if Mr. Darcy did indeed have a sister. She thought he had said so. It was lucky she had thought of that. She would need to be wiser about excuses in the future. Darcy's eyes narrowed at her for a moment. "Miss Bennet was kind enough to provide me with some advice."

Bingley's brow furrowed more. "Really? I had no idea Miss Bennet knew horseflesh."

Elizabeth elbowed Darcy. "She was providing advice about the family."

Bingley nodded, but still appeared confused. Elizabeth decided the only way out of the awkward situation was to leave before more questions could be asked. She pushed past Bingley.

"So Darcy, still up for riding this afternoon?"

Elizabeth cringed. She was not an avid rider, though of course, Darcy was.

"I may have to beg off, friend. My head is still not quite right after last night. Besides, are the Miss Bennets leaving Netherfield today?" She was still unused to talking to another man so candidly.

Bingley stepped next to Elizabeth and spoke lowly. "The Miss Bennets' carriage comes tomorrow." Bingley dropped his voice. "No ride? But then we'll be trapped in here ALL DAY with the women."

Elizabeth bristled at his comment. "I can think of worse punishments."

Bingley cringed. "Truly, I cannot. I thought my sister was driving you mad?"

"Yes, there you have a point," Elizabeth said quickly. But she wanted every opportunity to get back into her own body, and not ride on the back of a large beast she couldn't control.

Elizabeth stepped faster, trying to shake Bingley off her trail. "But Darcy, you promised!" he said dolefully and stopped. Elizabeth stopped and looked back at him. How pitiful he seemed. He must rely on Darcy's consultation heavily for both advice and enjoyment. She felt herself waiver. But a horse! Maybe she could choose a gentle one before embarking. "Fine, we can ride today. But we must go slow or my head will suffer."

Bingley smiled at her so cheerfully, that she almost felt pleased when she said yes.

Almost.

It was true the Miss Bennets would return to Longbourn on the morrow, so Elizabeth would need to think fast to find a way to undo whatever was done before Darcy—as Miss Bennet-–left, and took her body with her. It was complicated enough to cause a true headache.

In the meantime, she was supposed to ride with Bingley that afternoon. Blast, she had not enjoyed riding since she was thrown as a child. Surely she could come up with some excuse to not have to ride. She stood in her room, watching her valet attend to her riding gear when someone knocked on her door.

She hurried to the door, hoping it would be Darcy. She opened it tentatively.

No luck. It was Bingley, arms crossed, dressed in his riding attire. "Nearly ready?"

Elizabeth did not know what to say so she simply opened her door to let him in. He strode inside. "Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Elizabeth gestured at her valet. "He's gathering my attire, but I really do not feel as though a ride will help my head today."

"Posh about your head. I know why you so odd today," Bingley looked at him with his eyes narrowed.

Elizabeth swallowed and sank onto the bed, her stomach dropping with dread. Here it was. She now expected to be taken away to an asylum.

"It is Miss Elizabeth Bennet," Bingley said as though it were obvious. "You fancy her, despite yourself. You have not been yourself since she came here."

Here Elizabeth almost smiled with relief. La, is that what Bingley believed? That was so far from the truth, it was laughable. Cleary Mr. Darcy cared nothing for her. What an innocent Bingley was!

"There! I see your smile! You DO fancy her!"

Relief left her almost giddy. "I will admit that she is distracting," Elizabeth said. "But fancy is too strong a word." A wave of satisfaction came to her as she remembered Darcy's words. "She is not tolerable enough…"

Binley frowned and interrupted him. "Ah, yes, so you have said. But she has bewitched you."

Elizabeth was quiet. "In a manner of speaking."

"At least you admit it. Now let us ride. I am itching to get out of the house and onto some horseflesh."

Darcy's valet stepped in front of her then, holding out male jodhpurs and a riding jacket. "Sir?"