NOTES: Darcy's POV. A very sweet chapter, full of fluff for everyone ❤️ Next one I think will be more humorous, and I'm not sure whose POV it will be.

Also, I'm trying to keep up my regiment of posting once every day, and school is starting up again this coming week. Let's see how it all goes- what a rush this'll be ;D

~Vinny

There was a grandfather clock in the hall.

Darcy knew, because he had walked past it just a few minutes ago, when he was off sending the letter to his cousin, and checked his reflection in the glass case. His hair had still been wet. He could remember how his mirror grimaced at the sight; cooling down with a wash-rag was soothing in the moment, but he had forgotten how long it took for his curls to regain their normal bounce.

Lizzy knew, because the incessant tick-tock-tick-tock was the only noise in the otherwise morbidly silent room.

She clicked her teeth together, and the man on the other side of the room started, as if he had forgotten she wasn't just a painting for him to admire.

"So," Lizzy said in a breath, "How.. have you been?"

Darcy blinked. "Um, well," he said, a bit confused. "I've been.. Well."

"No, silly goose," she smiled in an attempt to rekindle some of their earlier banter, "How have you been in all the years that we were apart? I feel like I barely know… where your life has taken you."

I barely know you anymore, was what she didn't say, but Darcy could read it in her eyes, the way she flicked them up to his face for just a moment before lowering them down. But that could change. They were alone now, they could.. They could finally talk. If only he could find the right words…

"It's been.. good," Darcy nodded, straightening his vest self-consciously, "After you.. left, I continued my studies, and ended up attending Cambridge a few years later. I met many people there who are my good friends today, including Mr. Bingley."

That was not quite a lie. He had met Charles there, but he had not met many others. Certainly none that he stayed in contact with. But Lizzy needn't know that.

He cleared his throat, and continued: "I learned Greek and Latin, history and biology, and was considering dabbling in law when my father died, and I was forced to return to Pemberley when I was sixteen."

"Oh!" Lizzy gasped, a hand flying up to her mouth, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't aware of the loss."

"Don't be sorry," Darcy snorted. "He was a miserable old codger. Never did a good thing in his life." He shook his head, glaring down at the carpet, as if daring his father's ghost to resurface from the ground. "Never."

"William…," he heard, and his eyes snapped up. Lizzy was biting her lip, looking torn. "William," she continued, "You shouldn't say things like that.. He was your father, after all."

Darcy looked at her incredulously. Had she honestly no memory of how horrible that man was? "Lizzy," he said, slowly, "He tried to put you in an orphanage. He wanted you— a little girl!— to live out the rest of your days in a workhouse."

Her eyes were downcast, her head dipping nearly to her chest. "I remember." She half chuckled. "I had nightmares about him for years afterwards."

Me too, Darcy thought, but he didn't say anything further. When the silence was broken, it was with Lizzy's voice, a smile hiding somewhere in her tone.

"But... with all due respect, William.., I disagree with you on one point."

He raised his head, and cocked an eyebrow at her. She was grinning.

"Your father did do one good thing in his life." Lizzy's hands were folded messily in her lap, fingers picking at each other as she watched him. Her head lolled into a smile. "He made you."

"Oh." Darcy could feel his blush returning, a hot, tingly feeling crawling up his spine and settling into the arteries of his chest. "Thank you."

She smiled softly in acknowledgement, and glanced towards the library door. There was a single strand of beautiful brown hair that was curling over her ear. Darcy had the tantalizing impulse to sit forward and tuck it back, trailing his fingers along her perfect jawline..

He swallowed, thickly. "Lizzy…," he said, voice just above a murmur, "I care about you. Deeply. More than.. More than a friend. You know that, don't you?"

Lizzy's gold-flecked eyes were positioned towards the door, and they did not look at him when she spoke. "I know," her voice whispered.

Darcy leaned forward, heart in his throat. "And… do you feel the same?"

Suddenly, her autumnal eyes were on his with their full, panicked force. "I don't know!" Lizzy cried, "I don't know, William! I like you a great deal, I want to be near to you, but..! How can I say it's anything more so soon?! How do I know it's not just a passing fancy, and I'm leading you on, and all of this is in my head, and—"

He sprung forward until he was on his knees in front of her, and clasped her shaking hands in his.

"Lizzy," she said, softly, after her voice had cut off in a sharp gasp. "I understand you're confused. You don't need to make a decision right now. But please.. give me.. us... a chance. This is real, Lizzy. Can't you feel it?"

She sniffled, and he thought his heart might burst. "I feel it, William." A hesitating smile made its way onto her lips. "I'm just.. scared."

Darcy pressed his lips to her hands, reveling in the soft skin of her palms.

"I understand," he whispered. "But please. Never say we're just friends."

She laughed— a warm, wet sound deep in her throat. "I never will again," she promised him. "We are more than friends. I'm sorry if I ever said otherwise."

At that, he couldn't help but beam up at her. They waited there for a few everlasting seconds before Lizzy laughed again, more naturally this time. "You dramatic goof," she teased him, "You could have just asked to court me, you know!"

"Yes, well," he blushed, avoiding her eyes by kissing her hand once more, "This is more romantic, isn't it?"

"More or less," Lizzy grinned. She gestured upwards with her head, and William took the hint and sat next to her. "But we still have a lot of work to do before you can call on me properly."

"What?!"He needed to do MORE?! "What have I not done?"

Lizzy's face fairly sparkled with amusement. "Talk to my father, for one."

"Oh. Right." Darcy settled a bit, then cocked his head. "What do I need to speak with him about? I would think he would be glad for one of his daughters to receive such a suitor!"

She chuckled, and leaned into him, chastising, "Now don't get all prideful with ME, William— did it turn out well for you last time?" Then Lizzy sobered, and nodded.

"But really, my father does not.. much care for your family. For reasons you previously stated, about your own father. He declared just earlier that I was not even to acknowledge you in the street! He really is protective, you know. He won't be cowed by money or power, so please, just… be.. emotionally honest with him. That is what works best. Oh! And speak privately— he hates a scene. Well. One that involves him."

Darcy bobbed his head, not really listening. He was more concerned with the way Lizzy's shoulder was still pressing into his side, close enough so he could feel her body heat through the thin confines of his shirt.

She looked up at him, and a smile twitched into place. "Speaking of… I should probably return to the house soon."

"What?" He frowned, and dared to move even closer. "Why?"

"Because…," Lizzy breathed out, apparently becoming aware of the proximity. Her eyes fluttered, and her tongue ran slowly across her bottom lip. Darcy could feel his heart beating hard and fast in his ears as he leaned forward, inch by inch. Was this it? Was it finally happening?

"Because I need to go!" Lizzy cried, suddenly springing up from the couch. Darcy nearly toppled over at the speed of it all, but regained his balance enough to look up into her bright red face.

"I- I did not clarify with my family where I was going," she explained, the blush not abating, "I do not want them to become suspicious."
Darcy stood up, and felt a swell of pride at the way Lizzy seemed to lean in towards him as he did. "When can I see you again?" He asked in a fervent tone.

She bit her lip in thought. "Tomorrow," she said after a moment, "In town, at the Remington Inn. They serve a very good lunch, and we can make it seem…" Her hand trailed cautiously upwards, then pressed against his chest. "...Accidental."

Aha, Darcy thought with a secret thrill, Hurst had been right after all.

He put his hand over hers, willing her to feel how fast his heart beat at the mere thought of her. "Perfect," he smiled, and he could feel his dimples appearing on either cheek. "I'll see you then."

Even after that was said, it was still a moment before she stepped away, wrenching herself from his touch and turning towards the door. On her way out, Lizzy nearly capsized Mrs. Hurst and her tea tray from where she had been loitering outside of the door.

"Whoops!" The woman said, winking very indiscreetly, "My apologies, I must've taken a very long time indeed."

Darcy smiled at her, not even caring that she would be able to tell just how it went from the redness of his face. He bowed. "No apologies necessary," he said, "We greatly appreciate the gesture."

Not too many hours later, a man dressed in a red uniform cut open a sealed letter. His calloused trigger finger traced the immaculate handwriting of his younger cousin. He chuckled. "Well well well, Darcy old boy," the Colonel smiled to himself as he signaled for his aide, "Don't sweat. I'll be there to help in no time at all."