Note: This is a one-shot with no connection to the previous stories.

Chapter Fourteen – Aiming for the heart

What if Darcy practiced his proposal? What if a wise old friend from his past heard it all?

"In vain I have struggled. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

"In declaring myself thus I am fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and I hardly need add my own better judgement..."

"Do ye mean to propose or send the girl running, Boy?" Darcy jumped as a gruff, familiar voice startled him out of focus. He was practicing his proposal so that he didn't stumble on his words the way that he always seemed to do when he was in Miss Elizabeth's presence. Annoyed, he turned to face the Rosing's gamekeeper, Mr. Moore.

"Moore! What do you think that you're doing sneaking up on a man and listening in on private matters."

"Well, Mister Darcy, I see that you've become quite high and mighty in your advancing years. Here I thought to keep you from making the biggest mistake of yer life and all's I get is guff. Good day."

"Wait! So you think that I am making a mistake too? So I shouldn't propose?"

"Let me guess, yer thinkin' on that pretty little lass been visitin' at that idiot parson's place?"

Darcy nodded, then frowned. The old man had just called his plan a "mistake." If he wasn't talking about his desire to marry Elizabeth, then what was he talking about? Jebediah Moore had been the gamekeeper at Pemberley for longer than Fitzwilliam Darcy had been alive. He had taught two generations of boys, Darcy's father and then he an and his cousins, how to load and fire all manner of weapons, from hunting rifles to dueling pistols. He had taught them how to hunt and trap, how to skin and dress an animal, and how to survive in the woods. When the northern winters had become too much for him, Darcy had been the one to place him at Rosings Park.

So if there was any servant whose voice and opinion meant more to Darcy, he didn't know the person. He repeated his question, "So you think that marrying Miss Bennet is a mistake?"

"Take a seat, Mr. Darcy," Darcy complied, laying his tophat beside him on the log.

"Oh, yev got me all wrong, Fitz," he was the only servant who could get away with calling Darcy that. In fact, Darcy barely noticed, "I seen ya walkin' every morning with the lass, makin' eyes at her and wearin' yer heart on yer sleeve. She's a fine young lass and no doubt about it. Talked t'her onect or twice mysel'. I don' see any shame in makin' the lass yer wife... only it won' happen if you propose like that. Best y'll get is a slap in the face. 'Sides, she's got her reasons not ta like ya."

"Not like me? Surely you jest?! Why, she flirts with me all of the time!"

"'s that what they call it these days. In my day we named it arguin', insultin', and getting' downright mad. Now, don't go getting' into a tizz jes' cause ah'm bein' honest. You wanta listen, then listen. You wanta leave, then leave... but if'n ya do, don' blame me when she breaks yer heart."

Darcy had jumped up with every intention of leaving. Instead he returned to his seat on the log. "I apologize. Please explain what you mean."

"The lass is the friendly sort and she's bin visitin' with me on occasion. I notice that she frowned when I said I seen yer together. Et is not my way ta be breakin' confidences, but I think that the two of you 'ave done such a job of misunderstandin' each other that ye need someone else t'be sortin' it all out. So here et is. The gal don' like you, an' from what I kin tell, et's yer own fault. Did ye go to some type of dance an' refuse ta dance with the lass? Call'd her tolerable an' not handsome enough?"

Darcy thought on this, worrying his hat. Then he groaned, "Oh Lord! She heard that? I barely even looked in her direction. I was only trying to make my friend to leave me alone."

The old gamekeeper eyed the tall young man with disappointment, "The young man I knew wouldn'ta ever said such a thing. What happened?"

Darcy looked down at he ground silently for a long time before replying, "Do you remember George Wickham?" The gamekeeper seemed to jerk a little, but Darcy's eyes were fixed on the ground, so he did not see it. "He tried to elope with my sister last summer, right before I went to visit my friend."

"Yer sister?! Last I seen her, she was a little babe. She can't be more'n five and ten!"

"Six and ten now. She was five and ten when Wickham tried to steal her away."

"An' you stopped him. That explains it. The second reason the lass don' like you is ol' George's bin spreadin' lies about you. E's sayin' you refused him what's his from yer Papa's will."

Darcy jumped up and began pacing, "That old tale again! He came to me and said he did not wish to take orders. I paid him three-thousand pounds and he signed the living away. Then he returned two years later to ask for it back. He had spent every farthing and owed even more!"

The gamekeeper seemed unimpressed, "Did'ya know the boy was there in the neighborhood where the lass lived?"

"Yes! Of course! I saw him there walking around in the King's uniform like he hadn't a care in the world!"

"An' did'ya tell the lass... or anyone else fer that matter?"

"No! If I had, then he might have spoken about Georgiana and the elopement."

"So you knew that there was a wolf prowlin' aroun' the sheep, but you said nothing to nobody?"

Darcy ceased his circuit and looked at the old man in stunned silence. "Put in that way, I feel ashamed of myself."

"One last thing. Does the lass have a sister. And does that friend of your'n like the sister?"

Darcy flinched, already seeing where this was going. He groaned again, "Yes. But I saw no signs of affection on her part. She would have married Bingley, but only because her mother wanted her to."

"Is that right? Seems to me that when we began our talk, you believed that the lass was flirtin' with you. And you believed that she was waitin' for yer proposal. And you believed that it was 'ceptable to run off and leave ole' George to do what he wants in that Merrytown. Don' say much fer your shootin' record when you can' even touch the target, does it?"

Darcy looked at the man who had taught him so many things when he was young and realized how much more he still had to learn. "So how do I fix this, Mr. Moore?"

"Fer starters, listen to yer own proposal. If'n you heard a man say those words to yer sister, what would you do to the man?"

Darcy did not even need to ponder this. The words rushed through his mind like an accusation. "Dear Lord, I was about to seal her hatred for me forever! But from what you're saying, I will not have any chance no matter what I say."

There was a twinkle in the old man's eyes as he said, "Not necessarily, Son. I talked with the lass three times. You know how many times you came up in her talkin'?"

"Once?"

"Every time. D'ya 'member my wife an' her Shakespeare fella?" Darcy gave a half-hearted smile. While Mr. Moore was worldly wise, he was uneducated. His wife, on the other hand, was both educated and well-read. She loved Shakespeare and quoted the Bard often. Mr. Moore liked to repeat the quotes that meant something to him... though his interpretations were often different that what the playwright probably intended. When Darcy nodded, the gamekeeper said, "'We think she do protest too much'. I think those'r the words. The lass thinks about you a bit too much fer not carin'."

Darcy pondered this and for a minute and then smiled fully for the first time, "So I still might have a chance..."

"If'n you mend yer ways and fix your mistakes, then mebbe. Aim for the heart, Mr. Darcy... and let her see yours."

oOo

The following morning Elizabeth Bennet had to fight her annoyance when Fitzwilliam Darcy joined her on her walk once again. She had specifically told the man where she liked to walk so that they could avoid each other and here he was again!

They walked in silence for a long time. Mr. Darcy seemed agitated and pensive, but Elizabeth felt no compunction to remedy his issues. She was jolted when he finally spoke, "Miss Elizabeth, could I ask for your uncle's address in London?"

She stopped walking and looked up at the man, "My uncle in Cheepside, Mr. Darcy? And why would you wish to have that?"

"For Mr. Bingley."

That certainly was not the answer she expected. Frowning, she demanded, "And why has he not visited before now? Surely his sisters gave him the address?"

"I had not realized that they had visited her. To my knowledge, they never told Charles of your sister's presence in town... and forgive me, neither did I."

Elizabeth's eyes were molten fire as she glared at the tall man, "Why are you telling me this? I already know from your cousin that you 'congratulated' yourself on your 'triumph' in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane. How can you justify being the means of ruining the happiness of a most beloved sister? You caused my sister's heart to be broken and exposed her to ridicule for unrequited hopes!"

Mr. Darcy had to fight to not get lost in those eyes. Even in her anger she was the most beautiful creature he had ever known. Taking a deep breath, he answered, "I will not attempt to justify what I thought was the right thing at the time. It was my own arrogance that led me to believe that my... interpretation of what I saw was the only and right one. Since then I have begun to believe that I was wrong. That is why I wish to send the address to Charles... to give him the option of renewing his addresses. I... I can only hope that it is not too late for them."

Elizabeth held his eyes for a long time and then turned and began walking again. Bereft of any other options, Darcy continued to walk beside her. Finally she said, "I thank you. I will write down the address and provide it to you when we return to the cottage."

They walked on in silence until Darcy broke it again, "Miss Elizabeth... when I first joined Mr. Bingley at Netherfield I was in a very foul mood. Something almost tragic had happened within my family, and this by the hand of a man who I once called a friend... almost a brother. This does not excuse my behavior at the time, but it may help to explain why I was seeing the world with a rather jaundiced eye..."

Elizabeth glance over and up, then back ahead. It was clear that she did not intend to provide any help. Darcy forced himself to continue, "At the assembly we attended, I had no desire to be around people... I fear that I offended many on that night... but you most of all. Mr. Bingley was pressing me to dance when I had already informed him that I would not... and in my desire to silence him I fear that I spoke slightingly of you. I barely looked at you and certainly would have never said such words, but I must beg your forgiveness now, as I should have done then."

His companion remained silent for so long that Darcy was truly beginning to squirm. When she spoke, it was not what he expected, "I am fully cognizant of the fact that I am not beautiful like my sister, Mr. Darcy. My mother has insured that I knew it almost every day of my life. But to have it stated so publicly and in such a manner..."

"Good God, Elizabeth, surely you do not believe what your mother says! You are one of the most handsome women of my acquaintance! I can barely keep my eyes off of you!" Suddenly Darcy realized that he had let his mouth run away with him and he ceased, blushing.

Elizabeth was also quite red, but her eyes finally met his again and seemed to search into his soul. Softly she questioned, "I thought that you were only staring at me to find fault?"

Darcy had to laugh. It came out without any ability to stop it, "To find fault? Miss Elizabeth, no man looks at a woman all of the time to find fault! And even if I began that way, it has been long since I knew that I even found your imperfections to be attractive."

Elizabeth was truly flustered now, and quite at a loss for what to say. "I... I should go now... to the parsonage... it has been too long..."

"Of course, Miss Elizabeth. And the address?"

"Oh! Yes! We must get that!"

Elizabeth turned on her heel and began to walk quickly back in the direction they had come. Thankfully they had covered quite a distance so their journey was not quickly over. After a quarter of the distance had been covered, Darcy said, "I am deeply sorry for having made you uncomfortable. I said too much. It is always that way when I am with you."

This sounded like an accusation, so Elizabeth stopped and wheeled on the man, "What do you mean? What do you accuse me of now?"

"Accuse? No! It is just... whenever I am away from you I can think of a thousand things I wish to tell you, to show you, to share with you. But when I come face to face with you it is as if my tongue will not work properly."

Elizabeth's expression softened as the implication of his words began to sink in. He thinks of me so often? "You are speaking to me now."

"Yes! And I am almost afraid for this walk to end because I fear that the next time that I see you I will become a dullard once again! I will stare out some window trying to find the right words and I will still be struggling when the time for my visit is over and all chances to share my heart will be lost once again." His words were almost a plea. He seemed so vulnerable that Elizabeth forgot her great desire to escape. After a moment she said, "Then speak."

"You will not like what I have to say next." This earned him a raised eyebrow, "It is something I should have said on the very first day I saw him standing there and speaking with you... but I feared that my anger would overflow beyond my ability to hold it back."

Elizabeth instantly knew the moment he was speaking of, "This is about Mr. Wickham?" She felt a little disappointed, but couldn't determine why. What was I hoping for?

"There are many things I wish to say to you, but for your safety and the safety of your sisters and friends, I must address this first."

An hour prior, Elizabeth might have scoffed at such an assertion. Now she was prepared to hear, "Go on."

For the next few minutes Mr. Darcy told almost the same story of childhood and youth as Mr. Wickham had, but soon the stories deviated, words like "dissolute," "gambling," and "debauchery" were used to describe Mr. Darcy's boyhood friend. Elizabeth was not certain what to believe, but when he told the tale of his own fifteen year old sister and the failed elopement, Elizabeth knew that every word must be true. No man as proud and protective as Mr. Darcy would expose his little sister to possible shame for the sake of a lie.

"And how is she now, Mr. Darcy? Is she well?" This softly worded question and the sincere concern in Elizabeth's face almost undid Darcy. He longed to caress that face, to kiss those lips. Shaking himself, he replied, "She was always shy. Now she is much more withdrawn... and she no longer trusts herself. As I am the one who placed her in such danger, I fear she may not trust me either."

"Nonsense!" Elizabeth declared, startling Darcy with her vehemence. "Neither you nor your sister are to blame for anything more than being trusting! Mr. Wickham and this Mrs. Younge deliberately set out to fool your sister. They are the ones to blame."

Darcy almost lost himself in her eyes again. Then he said, "Thank you."

When he offered his arm to complete the walk, Elizabeth took it. The rest of the journey was completed in comfortable silence. Elizabeth went in, wrote the address, and came out again. Mr. Darcy thanked her for it and then told her, "Richard and I must return to Town and our separate responsibilities in the morning. When you return to London, or to Meryton, might I... would it be too much to ask... may I call on you?"

Elizabeth looked into his eyes and answered without hesitation, "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I would like that very much..." her expression turned teasing, "whether you are able to speak or not."

oOo

It was another three months before Mr. Darcy made his proposal. The wording for this one was much better than the one he almost gave before the elderly gamekeeper saved him from himself. Darcy did not have his old friend there to help him craft it, so he did the wisest thing he could: he asked his sister. As embarrassing as that was, the end result was a proposal that his Elizabeth would remember with great fondness.

It took two years before Lady Catherine relented and asked her nephew and his wife to visit. Though she would never quite forgive Darcy for not marrying her daughter as ordained, the woman did like the challenge of conversing with Elizabeth.

The highlight of these visits for the couple was not Lady Catherine, or Anne de Bourgh, or even seeing Charlotte Collins. The highlight was when they took a long walk and found the old gamekeeper in his domain. Darcy had admitted his mistakes and recounted how the old man had saved him. When they found the man, Elizabeth scolded him for repeating her conversations, but then she kissed the old man's cheek and thanked him.

It was all of the reward the gamekeeper ever wanted or could have asked for.

Author's Notes:Not much to add to this one, except thanks for reading and reviewing. This is probably my final installment, at least for a while. I am working on other projects, so hopefully I will have something to contribute in the near future. I am glad that people enjoyed these short stories. LFU.