NOTES: Lizzy's POV— goes all the way from the end of that night to the next morning. Pretty funny, a lil sweet (despite last chapter) because I had a bad day and needed something to smile about.

I know (I KNOW) this chapter isn't... well, I don't like going for complete realism. I write what I like reading— stories with heart and souls and ones that laugh when life takes itself too seriously. If you take that outlook, I promise you'll enjoy my work far more.

Also, to the person who asked why P&P men always get drunk after problems, thank you for making me laugh, and also.. I think its bc if we had to deal with the same problems they did, our first reaction would be "Jesus Christ. I need a drink." 😂 also its a fun plot device sometimes

Anyway, that's all I have, so see ya next time! Love, Vinny 💗

Lizzy didn't even make it to the carriage before she was bombarded with accusations, questions, and generally unwelcome comments.

"Was that William DARCY? The boy from Lambton?"

"Lizzy, what on earth were you thinking?! What a scandal this will be! "

"I saw you two talking on the balcony— it was smart to keep the doors open— but what happened at the end? You looked angry!"

"Are you engaged? I can't believe he spun you around!..."

"My darling girl, you've done it! 10,000 pounds— my word! If I had known that, we would have sought out Mr. Darcy at once!"

Only her father was silent, brooding, looking out of the window with a sour expression. He was the one Lizzy chose to talk to, despite her apprehensions. She waited until everyone else was involved in their own low-voiced conversations (or, in the case of Kitty and Lydia, fast asleep) to speak to him.

"Papa?" She asked, "How.. Did you enjoy the ball?"

He snorted concisely. "Don't degrade me with small talk."

Lizzy set her jaw. So, he was being difficult. She tried again. "Papa, tell me what's troubling you."

He looked at her as if she had asked him to explain which way was up. "Oh, I don't know," he muttered sarcastically, eyes unblinking. "Maybe it was my daughter embracing a virtual stranger in front of the whole town."

Lizzy swallowed heavily. It did sound bad when he put it like that.

"I… It was not my best judgement at work, I agree…"

"THAT is an understatement, if I've ever heard one."

"...but," she continued on, "It happened in full view of the crowd, which is a double-edged sword. With luck, it will cut the rumors out of existence. Simply two childhood acquaintances, overwhelmed by the moment."

Mr. Bennet stared gloomily at her, then sighed and turned away. "We'll see," he said. There was a moment of pondering so intense Lizzy could almost detect a buzzing noise— then he burst out: "Oh BLAST it all!"

Everyone in the car jumped, including Mrs. Bennet, who exclaimed, "What is it? Is someone dying?!"

Her husband ignored her, and jabbed a finger into the air. "That Darcy family is bad news! I don't care how wealthy they are— Neither he, nor his son, is welcome in my home!"

"But Papa!" Lizzy cried, impulsively, just as Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, "But Thomas!"

"No!" He folded his arms firmly, and lifted his chin (the resemblance to his eldest daughter shining through his narrowed eyes). "There's no swaying me on this. I will not have ANYTHING to do with them!"

Lizzy wasn't sure why that upset her so much. Maybe it was the thought of never seeing William again— but she had just seen him. And he had been bad-tempered, socially awkward, and outright rude.

She snuck a glance at Jane, who was sitting carefully with her legs straight, so as not to upset the delicate balance between her foot and ankle.

How could William have made such horrid assumptions, about someone he didn't even know? Was it because she was pretty, that she thought she had no brain? If that was the case, Lizzy surely knew the real shallow one among them.

Even so… she wanted not to be angry at him. She wanted to.. to find the boy she had loved so dearly in her youth, but feared he might have been swallowed up, by the man on the balcony.

Lizzy sighed, and turned towards the window. She shouldn't have been surprised. Everyone grows out of something when they reach adulthood.

She just wished he hadn't grown out of his heart.

"Do not worry, Papa," she said quietly, after the carriage had been silent for some time. "I doubt we will be seeing any more of Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Bennet didn't detect the lonesome note in his daughter's voice. He huffed into a nod. "Indeed not," he agreed, "I'm glad you're finally seeing reason."

He didn't seem to mind not receiving an answer. Lizzy was busy watching the scenery pass by, and berating herself for having to blink away tears. Why was she almost crying? Was she mourning the idea of William she had conceived, now killed off by reality?... or was she just being a dramatic idiot, who had fallen for a dream.

Those thoughts didn't leave her head— bouncing around the corners and scattering every daydreams she hoped to distract her from them— until she fell asleep at an ungodly hour. Even then, she had no dreams, and woke up with a vague feeling of anxiety resting in her chest.

Although, this feeling was probably caused more by the sight of her mother standing, pale as a ghost, silently in the doorway. Staring at her as she slept.

"I think I bungled things," Mrs. Bennet whispered, "With Mr. Darcy."

Lizzy sat up, ignoring the strangeness of the situation with that lucidity of sleep-logic, and tried to respond with a croak in her voice. "I'm sure it's not your fault," she mumbled, wincing against the sunlight.

"No, I mean..," her mother pressed her lips together, and glanced back towards the stairs. "He's at the door."

"What?!" Lizzy cried, springing up and nearly falling face first onto the floor boards. She leapt to her feet, pink in the face and just KNOWING her hair was a mess. "He's here?!"

Mrs. Bennet shushed her, still glancing neurotically towards the doorway. "Yes," she said, still in a low whisper. "And.. I'm afraid I slammed the door on him."

Lizzy stared at her, and let her eyes express her emotions.

Her mother's hands jumped up, clasping either side of her own face in mortification. "Yes, yes, I know, but— I thought he was the cook's son! He has the same hair, you know… I was startled!"

"Nooonono…," Lizzy covered her face, then took a sharp breath in. "Wait! Is… is he still there?!"

Mrs. Bennet's eyebrows lifted. "Oh. OH no!"

She turned to rush out of the room, but Lizzy stopped her, speaking quickly and urgently. "Wait! Do not bring him into the house. Papa will have a fit."

"So…," Mrs. Bennet struggled, her face twisting in agonized confusion. "What do I do?!"

Had Lizzy's mind had legs to run with, it would have been in London by now at the speed it was going.

"Take tea by the garden. I believe there's a small table out there— we can persuade Papa we technically didn't have him in the house… and we can tell William that it was such a nice day, that you couldn't resist the outdoors!"

Mrs. Bennet, once her thoughts had caught up (huffing and puffing) to Lizzy's, she nearly squealed in excitement, and pinched both of her daughter's cheeks.

"Oh you clever, clever girl! I just knew you would put all those brains to something useful— ten thousand pounds a year! My! Here, you get dressed in that new summer gown, and I'll bring Mr. Darcy his tea."

Then she stopped, and raised her eyebrows at her daughter. "Though you really must quit your use of his Christian name. Not until you're engaged."

Lizzy's stomach dropped at that— engaged? To William? But.. she hadn't even seen him in years! And he hadn't made a very good (second) impression… And what he had said about Jane!... Did her mother really think..?

But Mrs. Bennet was already bustling out of the door, muttering to herself about tea and fabrics, and Lizzy was left to pull on her summer dress by herself. As she did, she caught a look out the window. The sun was not nearly high enough in the sky for calling hours, and there was a grayish residue of moisture in the air, as if it had rained quite a bit while she slept.

Down below her window (which looked conveniently out to the front of the house, her view partially obscured by a slanted roof that needed to be patched up every spring), Lizzy noticed a flicker of motion. She squinted, then held back a gasp.

He was really here. Willi— Mr. Darcy was paying her a visit! Had he realized his vulgarity, and come to apologize? Or did he simply have no brain in his head and wish to make the rumors worse?

Lizzy didn't know. And resisting curiosity had never been her forte.

She leaned precariously out the window, trying to get a better look. Her hand (on which she had been putting a great deal of her weight) slipped on the rafters, and she let fly a startled 'yip!' as she barely managed to catch herself— not before dislodging a bird's nest that had held back a collection of rainwater.

Down below her rooftop window, the motion (that must have been Mr. Darcy) didn't look up (thank the LORD) but did receive about a baby's bottle worth of water directly onto his head.

Lizzy did not see this, of course— she had ducked her head back into her bedroom, heart pounding— but knew it to be true because of the deep-voiced exclamation that wafted up from below.

"What the devil…!"

Thankfully, before Wil— Mr. Darcy could investigate the spilling, there was a sound of a door opening, and Mrs. Bennet's voice began babbling far too quickly for anyone to understand.

Lizzy sat back onto her bed, completely dazed, and stared at the wallpaper. There were so many threads. So many problems with William paying her a call.. What would happen? What…

It wasn't until she had (as if in a trance) stripped out of her nightgown and into her more appropriate clothes that she understood what she had to do— what was best.

Thus, she walked with the anticipation of a brewing storm down the stairs, and out into the garden, where she found William with wet hair, a fresh and terrified expression, and a bedraggled looking bouquet of flowers crushed in both his hands.

Lizzy smiled despite herself. "Good morning, Mr. Darcy."