NOTES: Lizzy's POV, the next day. Fairly long chapter, where Mr. Bennet goes on the offensive. Interesting chapter- hope y'all pick up on the subtext.

also don't worry! I'll be posting very soon, as soon as I write it :)
Enjoy,

~Vinny

The next day found Lizzy at the breakfast table at half past ten, fidgeting ceaselessly.

"Lizzy," Her favorite sister whispered from the side of her mouth, "Whatever the matter is— and I respect your privacy, by the way— you ought to be more discreet with your excitement! You're shaking the table!"

Humming, Lizzy tried to take Jane's advice and still her shaking hands, but nothing seemed to work. She was turning into her mother; her nerves were shot. Today was it. She was going to meet William at Remington Inn.

They were going to eat lunch together (with Charlotte tagging along as a well-suited chaperone, of course) and everything was going to be perfect. Afterwards, he would escort her back to the house, where Lizzy would explain how by total happenstance they had bumped into each other, and how William had requested to speak with her father whatever could it mean?!

Lizzy tried, and failed, to stamp down her grin. Oh, her father would be so happy when he realized just how lovely William was. He would be over the moon to see them courting— Lizzy was sure of it!

At least, she tried to convince herself she was sure of it.

From his seat at the head of the table, unconcernedly chewing on a small plum, her father flicked to the next page in his newspaper.

Lizzy resolutely took a breath in, and addressed the table. "Well, that was delicious! My compliments to Mrs. Hill, the tarts were especially good." She glanced inconspicuously at her father, who wasn't attending. She raised her voice slightly.

"But I must confess! It has simply been too long since I've dined out— for the next meal today, I believe I will visit Remington Inn with Charlotte, their lunch is splendid!"

Mr. Bennet lowered the newspaper just enough so that he was squinting over the top at her.

"Lizzy…," he said, slowly, still chewing, "Are you smuggling illegal substances in from Portugal?"

"What?"

"Or perhaps simply conspiring to overthrow the government," Mr. Bennet added thoughtfully, then smiled. "I'm sorry dear, I'm just trying to understand what motive you have to go to Remington that would cause you such duress."

Lizzy's cheeks flushed, but she shrugged in an admirable imitation of an unbothered person. "I don't know," she hummed casually, "Charlotte and I just made plans to dine together, and it slipped my mind to receive permission beforehand."

Her father nodded, "Well that's quite alright. I can call on Sir William, and we can lunch at Lucas Lodge." Mr. Bennet smiled at her kindly, reaching over to pat her hand. "Not to worry, my dear, there is no need for you to spend all your pin money on food."

No, no, no. She HAD to get to Remington Inn! William was waiting for her, and she hardly thought she could slip away to Netherfield again…

"Th- that's alright, papa!" Lizzy chirped, her voice only wavering a little, "I'd rather eat at Remington, despite the price. The weather is so nice, you know… It'd be a shame not to..."

She trailed off, glancing defeatedly out the window, where the gray sky had dipped down into the streets, lining them with a heavy fog.

Her father was watching her with suspicion. "Riiiight," he said, finally setting down his newspaper and cracking his bony knuckles. Then he smiled with the sharpness of a cat that got the mouse. "Capital idea, Lizzy! Why don't we all go out for lunch?"

"Wait, what?" she cried, but it was too late. Mr. Bennet was calling out to his wife in the other room.

"Mrs. Bennet!" He called out, grinning, "Lizzy has proposed we all go out to Remington Inn for lunch! What say you, my dear?"

Her mother stuck her head in through the doorway, and frowned. "Why on earth do you want to go out in this weather?" She asked her oldest daughter, "You can hardly see to the tip of your nose through that fog!"

"Lizzy says the weather's nice," Mr. Bennet answered for her, "She says it'd be a shame not to go out in it." He elbowed her with the sharp companionship of one who knows something you don't. "Isn't that right, Lizzy?"

"Yes," said she, faintly, "Indeed."

She would have to apologize to William later.

LATER it was, in fact, when the Bennet clan finally gathered itself up and hauled out of the house at half past noon.

Lizzy, at the front of the pack, was jittery and quiet. Her father took note of this, but did not ask her about it. Let her reap what she has sown, he thought. Jane similarly noticed something was amiss, but she just linked her arm with Lizzy's and helped her walk carefully along the misty dirt street.

When they finally reached the slanted roof of Remington Inn, they were greeted by an equally antsy figure, who had been waiting there against a post since he had gotten up that morning.

"Hello," said William, stepping out of the fog. "What a pleasure seeing y—," he blinked, "You all here."

From her place in the street, Lizzy made a helpless shrug with her hands as her family waved and smiled all around her. Mr. Bennet stepped forward, tipping his hat against the gloomy weather.

"Mr. Darcy," he said, a knowing smirk lingering on his cheek, "What a surprise."

Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, seemed to be genuinely surprised. "Oh, Mr. Darcy!" She cried, clutching her purse, eyes wide, "You— How are y— What— What lovely weather we're having!"

Silently, Lizzy put a hand over her eyes. Dear God she was her mother's daughter after all.

"Um. Indeed," William coughed. He gestured awkwardly to the door of the Remington Inn. "I was.. just about to go inside and dine. Would you all… uh, care to accompany me?"

"Oh no," Mr. Bennet spoke up with a grin, "We would never want to impose on your solitude, sir. Good day!"

Without waiting for a reply, the head of the Bennet family strutted past William and opened the door, motioning with his head for the others to follow. "Come on then!"

Lizzy walked slower than the rest of her group, watching William's open-mouthed stare with a bubbling feeling of shame. "I am so sorry," she whispered as she passed by, "I had no idea this would happen, my father insisted he come along, and the next thing I know—"

"It's alright, Lizzy," he cut her off gently. "We'll.. I'll find a way around it. I'll just ask your father for permission here— best to get it over with quickly."

"What?" She frantically asked, "In public? Did you not hear me yesterday? Papa hates a scene, and he'd be much more likely to ban you from our house than grant you permission if he perceives you as rude!"

"Then I must take that chance," William said grimly. He touched her hands for just a moment. "My apologies, dearest, but I am sick for the sight of you. I cannot standing another moment spend NOT courting you, Lizzy Bennet.

She looked up into his thickly lashed eyes, then sighed a tired smile, and squeezed his hands. "Very well. But please— do try not to make him angry."

"I will," he promised, and bowed over her hands.

Lizzy felt a wave of trembling want crash over her. He was so close. He was close, and never close enough.

William straightened, flashed her a smile that made her breath catch, then called out to her father: "Pardon me, sir! But may I speak with you for a moment outside?"

From his place indoors leaning on the back of a high-topped chair, Mr. Bennet looked up. He smiled, waxing. "I am sorry, but I simply do not have the time for a chit-chat right now—"

"Please," William said. "Please."

Mr. Bennet's smile froze on his face. His eyes, quick as grasshoppers, jumped to Lizzy's face. His shoulders squared and he walked like a soldier to the doorway. As he passed, he shot Lizzy a betrayed sort of glance. "Excuse us for a moment."

The door to the inn closed with a heavy thunk.

From across the room, her mother was calling her name, telling her their table was ready. From across the room, her darling sister distracted Mrs. Bennet with a menu. All around her, people continued their conversations with oblivious tones. The inn buzzed with noise, but as Lizzy stood with her ear hovering by the door frame, there was only one thing she was listening to.

"What is this all about? I was just about to have lunch with my family, sir, and I do not like being interrupted." Her father's voice, crabby, an edge to it.

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Bennet, but I simply couldn't wait." That was William. Her heart fluttered as she tried to memorize the voice. "I must ask your permission to court your daughter."

"Which daughter?" Her father might've sneered as he said it; there was an odd, petulant lilt to his speech, "I have quite a few— oh, do you mean Mary? Yes, I think you two would be well suited, I do agree—"

"No, not Miss Mary," William interrupted, sounding agitated, "It's Lizzy."

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"Uh, right, Miss Bennet." He cleared his throat. "Well, she and I have discussed the matter, and—"

"When?" Mr. Bennet said sharply. "Whenever would you discuss such a thing?"

"It— well, we.. found time at the ball, and—"

"You asked to court my daughter the day you were properly introduced? How grasping of you, Mr. Darcy. Was it really such a long sea voyage to Hertfordshire?"

There was a short pause, wherein Lizzy could hear breathing. It was like Papa was playing a chess match with his words, each sentence carefully crafted to strip away all defenses and threats, to wear down his opponent. It was agony to listen to... Lizzy just hoped William knew the rule of en passant: a first impression counts twice as much. She just hoped this would count as a first impression.

"Mr. Bennet," eventually emerged from the silence, "Please do not jest in such a way. My feelings for your daughter are strong, but nothing of.. Of that sort."

"Do you mean to tell me you wish for her to have a loveless marriage, devoid of passion?" Her father challenged, that aggravating sharpness returning to his voice.

"NO!" William shouted, then lowered his voice. "Sir, you are willfully misunderstanding me."

"My Lizzy has the same habit," he countered, and Lizzy hated that he was right, "Will you raise your voice at her as well?"
Another pause. Here, the only breathing that could be heard through the door was the rustle of wind against open coats, and the air that held in Lizzy's own throat.

Then—

"LIZZY! I swear, sometimes it's like she's in a world of her own, I'm sorry sir... Lizzy, come away from that door! This nice young man is taking our orders, now, would you prefer your tea with lemon or without?"

She jumped, guiltily staring back to where her mother was now watching her, hands on her hips. "Lemon," she pronounced carefully, "Or no lemon?"

"Um, uh, no lemon, for now," Lizzy told the poor waiter, who had sleepy eyes and a drooping mustache. He nodded, and trotted back to the kitchen to relay their orders. Her whole family, all of them seated now, watched her come trudging to the table.

"You know," Mrs. Bennet whispered in a too-loud voice, "It really is unbecoming to eavesdrop. Thank the Lord I saw you before Mr. Darcy did— what would he think of you?"

Lizzy looked glumly down, her cheeks burning as her younger sisters snickered. What a horrible day. Nothing was turning out right.

Minutes later, a tap on the shoulder alerted Lizzy that the time for staring unseeing at the tablecloth was over. Her father stood above her, face grim, the light of the inn bouncing off his forehead and casting a dark shadow under his brow. "Lizzy. Come outside. There is something I wish to discuss with you and… There is something you should hear."

She rose with trepidation gripping at her insides, and walked out of the Remington Inn into the mist, where William Darcy was waiting for her.

Even when the door closed behind them, he wouldn't meet her eyes.