After he properly dressed himself and meticulously examined himself in the mirror he made his way down to the dining hall, taking a shortcut to the stairs by cutting through the portrait gallery holding pictures of all of the Darcy family. Generations were frozen in time on carefully painted strips of once empty canvas, preserving their memory forever more. Darcy, who had met most of the people painted there and had been in this room countless times before, was not at all diverted by its magnificence…unlike the other occupant of the room.

Elizabeth sat on an ornate chair rather uneasily, knowing that the furniture cost more than anything of what she was wearing. This made her feel as if the she was tainting it, which angered her since she was feeling inferiority to a mere piece of furniture. However, her mind was not dwelling too harshly on this subject and instead was fixed on the portraits on the wall opposite of her. One, which had amused her for quite some time was of a young Darcy, perhaps about fourteen of fifteen, standing smilingly in an almost exasperate manner with a very small and pink gowned Georgiana clinging to his pants, hiding shyly behind his knees. It was so innocent and with such affection of which she had never seen in the present Darcy. It seemed so normal, giving rise to the thought that perhaps Darcy wasn't all he seemed. These musings were further supported by a second portrait of Darcy where. Darcy was actually smiling, a genuine content sort of smile. She was greatly taken by this image of him and it often drew her gaze back to it.

Though for all these things Elizabeth was still wary of Darcy thus far. He had seemed hospitable enough, but she could not think of any sound reason other than to corner her in front of her relatives and his servants in a ploy to somehow humiliate her or bring her down. It was an evil thought, but she could not rule it out just as she could not exempt the possibility that maybe Darcy still had feelings for her.

Elizabeth was drawn from her thoughts immediately by the voice belonging to the person she had just been thinking about.

"Miss. Elizabeth?"

She replied politely and for the second time that day found herself surveying Mr. Darcy's appearance with a quizzical brow. He was much more differently dressed than usual, sporting a light green tailcoat, a dark striped forest vest with a beige cravat and dark tan pants. It was undoubtedly the height of fashion, but going very firmly against his characteristic conservative attire of dark and very bland, dull colors.

Noticing again her scrutiny Darcy quickly explained, "My sister bid me wear this."

Feeling the rudeness of continuing to stare she said jokingly, "Well it seems that your appearance is greatly different from that outside your house, but I daresay it does suit you, whether in portrait or person. Your outfit earlier gave the contours of your chest a very distinguished definition."

Darcy could only stare utterly dumbfounded. Suddenly realizing what she had said and how it must have been taken, Elizabeth made haste to retract the impudent outburst. During which, she swore inwardly and cursed all the times her mother had warned her about her quick tongue and how it would someday lash out in respectable company.

"I apologize for my statement. It was ill said and the result of my playful disposition that I have overstepped my boundaries. In my defense I offer that it was only meant in jest and in the small hope that it would be taken as such and perhaps lead to idle banter. I did not mean to offend you."

Darcy, blinking sluggishly, was barely able to shake his head through the thoughts that barraged his confused mind. Was that a compliment…or a barb? She remarked about his chest…she noticed? Mr. Darcy found himself suddenly very conscious of his clothing, which had somehow grown a lot tighter in the past minute or so. And of course, like the prideful, masculine man he was, Darcy unconsciously made a subtle movement to puff out his chest a little farther. Elizabeth noticed and both looked away to hide their blushes.

Silence reined between the two as they tried to look at anything and everything but each other. Elizabeth's eyes were once again drawn to his portrait, proving that even though the two gave every pretense of avoiding each other, their inner focuses were hardly diverted.

Feeling obliged to break the icy atmosphere Elizabeth started hesitantly, "This is a magnificent portrait of you. It allows everyday people the rare privilege of seeing you smile."

"But of course you are not one of those insignificant, everyday people who need to resort to paintings to be the subject of my good humor," Darcy replied and very slowly, allowed the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. It was not the one displayed in the portrait. It was close, but it was marred by something else…by regret and a faint questioning. What did he truly want to say? He knew. 'Good humor' was not what he truly desired to say. No, it was more on the lines of 'affection' or 'admiration', but he had said both these things in the past, thus there was no need to be ridiculous and redundant. No, his job now was to be respectable. But was that not the position he filled all the time? Could he not just break that mold he was constantly forced to fill? Is that not what she had accused him of never doing? Maybe, just this once…

In this moment, it was his responsibility to take full advantage of the surprised Miss. Bennet. His grin turned deadly.

"I apologize, Miss. Bennet, for my statement. In my defense I offer that it was only meant in jest and in the small hope that it would be taken as such and perhaps lead to idle banter. I did not mean to offend you."

In the most unwomanly manner, Elizabeth's mouth fell open in pure astonishment. Did the Great, Ever Aloof, High and Mighty Mr. Darcy just joke with her? Wait, Darcy was capable of doing something humorous? Elizabeth's mouth opened and closed in a fish-like manner for several seconds until she saw something play in the depths of his eyes. He was enjoying this. An old fire within her burst back to life and had she been in a calmer frame of mind she would have recognized that it was her pride. How dare he slight her in such a manner? He was probably just rejoicing in the fact that he had bettered her in a game that she had laid out. Was this all he ever did? Use her as a tool to enlarge his already swollen ego? She fumed. How could she have forgotten what kind of man Darcy was? A little voice of Elizabeth whispered to the flames. Had not that letter shown that he was good? The angry part of Elizabeth stubbornly beat the other side down. No, he had not proved anything. He had cleared his name, that was all. Obviously his fancy house and mocking furniture had rendered her senseless. Closing her mouth with a snap, she gave a clipped reply and stayed resolutely silent until one of Darcy's personal servants arrived in the gallery positively windswept and breathless. Apparently there were search parties out for them because of their prolonged absence at lunch. Darcy assured him that they would be on their way.

"Miss. Elizabeth?" he invited, extending his hand to her, intending to help her from her chair.

Elizabeth looked to the hand, glared and then brought her eyes to the owner of it. "I am perfectly able to rise from a chair unattended Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy bowed and let his hand fall back to his side. "Of course."

Mr. Darcy led her to the dining hall feeling both uncomfortable and awkward. Everything seemed to be going fine and then it just…died, murdered by yet another blunder of his own fault. It was like the two of them were playing a game. One that only she knew the rules to and he seemed to be the only one losing. Perhaps because he was the only one playing. These thoughts were hurriedly pushed away. It was now time to be respectable again. It was time to put on his mask and be civil, where each dip of his soup spoon was choreographed. This was the only thing he was proficient at. A fact that he hated, infuriated that he could only claim to excel in feeding himself.

Georgiana watched the two like a spectator at a sport. The table was the playing field and the goal was to look at the other until noticed and then look away as if nothing had transpired. Back and forth…back and forth. Darcy would watch Elizabeth, Elizabeth would realize he was staring, and Darcy would commence his concentration of his untouched meal. Elizabeth would observe Darcy's actions, Darcy would catch her eye, and Elizabeth would look back to her aunt to rejoin a conversation she was hardly paying attention to. Georgiana thought this highly amusing, but decided that it could hardly be deemed a sport. Sports had winners. What Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam was attempting had no benefit to either party. Georgiana was determined to fix that.

"So Miss. Elizabeth, do you have any interest in music?"

Elizabeth looked relieved to be given reason to abandon their 'sport'.

"More of an appreciation of the dedication and skill that I myself cannot fully commit to."

"And yet you make an effort," Darcy queried quietly. He hadn't actually meant to participate in the conversation. His comment was merely a thought, but it betrayed him.

Elizabeth took the comment a little defensively. "Yes, my interests in books are hardly inquired of me, so it was to my advantage if I learn something deemed as a woman skill so as to present something society would accept and be pleased with."

Mrs. Gardiner pat her arm gently. "Society conforms us all dear."

Mr. Darcy frowned. "It is a sacrifice we have all made as humans to step up from our savage ancestry and make ourselves a civilized people."

Elizabeth felt a sudden flare and though she knew she shouldn't even dare oppose the man who owned the house she was eating lunch in, she did it anyway. He was asking for it.

"There is a difference between following rules of society and being pressured by other people. Mr. Darcy even your own son is susceptible to it. He clearly does not enjoy to dance and yet he is still highly proficient at it," Elizabeth pointed out.

At this particular moment she did not intend any insult and was merely making a logical observation that could relate to the subject and those who were studying it. Mr. Darcy did not take it this way, though his anger was directed on another source. Darcy's grip on his knees tightened and his sister's heart plummeted.

"Your logic is flawless Miss. Bennet, but I find need to correct you. My son," that one word was uttered in a way Elizabeth had never heard before in a parent, "Fitzwilliam, being the rather selfish boy he's always been, is like many who simply show dislike in an attempt to make their own deficiencies seem less of a failure or flaw within his character."

Elizabeth was taken aback at such an outward censure Mr. Darcy displayed to his son. She glanced at Darcy and saw that his head was bent and his eyes downcast. It was as if these insults were physically lain across his normally erect shoulders. Elizabeth was surprised when she felt a stab of anger at Darcy's fall from grace. This was not right. This could not be so. The once proud man was being brought down to this level of weakness by his own father. Elizabeth's father had only held praise for her and she adored him. She could not fathom the emotions that lay within Darcy. She was reluctant to admit it but it frightened her that Darcy could be made to seem more…mortal.

Ben Gardiner was a man of debate, but also one of sense. "Come, come, Master Darcy. We are all entitled to dislike things. For instance my distaste for champagnes. I am quite familiar with them, yet I still cannot grasp the full appreciation I have for wines."

Mr. Darcy's mind was thankfully diverted. He even smiled.

"I would be happy to introduce you to a few of my own stores in order to dissuade such a ridiculous notion."

The two men began to quickly move into a fast chatter over plans for after the meal and everyone else relaxed immediately. Elizabeth noticed that Darcy's muscles loosened, but his shoulders remained in a resigned slump. Disconcerted, Elizabeth spent the rest of the meal in a haze.

Georgiana, recovering quickly, finally saw her opportunity to change the tide of the devious sport.

"Father would you like to hear a new song I have recently discovered? It comes all the way from Poland. There is this new composer…Chopin I believe /see note at bottom for clarification/. You can listen to me after you give the Gardiners a tour of your stores."

"Actually I do not participate much in the tasting of fine alcohols and drinks. I would prefer to sit and hear you practice if it does not bother you Miss. Georgiana," Mrs. Gardiner perked up.

Georgiana turned to face Elizabeth. "Then perhaps my brother can give you a tour of the grounds Miss. Elizabeth. It looks spectacular at this time of the year."

Darcy looked up in alarm and Elizabeth commenced to chew her lip, but both nodded their heads in agreement with everyone else about the table.

The parties dispersed in their separate little pairs talking merrily, while Darcy and Elizabeth began their long trek in the most absolute and impenetrable silence ever produced. Darcy watched Elizabeth intently. She seemed as uncomfortable as he was, so maybe if he tried to be amiable…perhaps she would…they were alone…but maybe just this once they could at least be friends. That's the best he could hope for.

He chose the forest path. It was more tranquil and natural there. A feeling inside him told him that Elizabeth would like it there. He certainly did. He liked that it still felt like home and yet the house and carriages and roads had all been hidden away by the trees standing hand and hand and the path, made only through the many Darcys who walked it and the many times they had wandered down them.

"Well, Miss. Elizabeth," he cleared his throat to stall for a little time, "as you can see we grow several different types of trees here. Most of these trees have been growing since before my family settled here. We have an orchard too, where we cut and prune them. but these trees have been allowed to grow wild."

Staring into the trees foliage and enjoying how the sun would peek through the leaves to give her light warm kisses upon her cheeks, murmured absently, "Not wild. They have grown tall and…proud."

"I always felt a great comfort here. There's something about such giant trees that makes you feel less insignificant. No matter how much better you or those around you are, you are nothing to the sheer towering grace of these trees," Darcy said quietly.

"I used to climb them when I was a girl," Elizabeth announced. She was immediately appalled by it and cursed her tongue that never seemed to wait for her brain to catch up. How could she say something so common after he had commented something thoughtful enough to be novelized? It was a disgrace. So distracted by her blunder she didn't even notice that she suddenly cared about what he thought.

He smiled. "Yes, so did I. In fact, the day I learned to swim was when I fell out of one."

Forgetting herself entirely, Elizabeth laughed at the statement until she had to cover her mouth to stifle the sounds.

Darcy was almost incredulous at the smile of merriment that adorned Elizabeth's eyes. It almost caused them to twinkle. What had he done that would warrant such reward? Darcy ran over the few lines he had said in his mind. It clicked almost instantly. He had shared a little of himself with her.

Her laughter done Elizabeth related a tail of her childhood where her dress had gotten stuck on a branch and how she had to abandon it altogether to escape the tree. Darcy couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out from within him. He realized how nice it all felt and how…easy. No matter how much he shared with her she would give just as much in return.

"So Miss. Elizabeth, how do you feel about books?"

The conversations went on and on, taking different turns and bends just like the path they continued to walk on. They talked of morals, swimming, war, tablecloths…

Suddenly the trail just stopped and with it their long talk.

Slightly disoriented Darcy looked up and down where the path had been once more.

"We must be crossing into the property of the estate next to mine."

Also rather confused by the abruptness of the situation she could only give a short, "Oh," before adding, "I suppose we should be heading back then. We certainly have lost track of time."

Still looking ahead, Darcy agreed and turned around to begin their return when he found himself face to face with Elizabeth…at a very close proximity. Why did he not feel her directly in back of him? Time froze. He could see the way her eyelashes curved and the rosy color on her porcelain cheeks. Some people wait a lifetime for that moment, that second of time that just seemed…right.

Without even thinking, Darcy moved in to kiss her. She made no effort to stop him, but neither any to encourage it. Darcy closed his eyes, wishing he could lose himself in that one moment. It was like that time when they had danced together. It felt as though no one else was there. Now, not even the trees seemed to be there. It was just the two of them with leaves strewn at their feet.

He wanted to bury his face in hers and ask her to marry him all over again. He wished to be able to reach out and touch her cheek with a delicate caress. Above all else he needed to kiss her. He needed it so bad. He could feel the light contact of his fervent lips upon hers, the warm breath across his skin, but then…

Then he stopped…

And pulled away.

The barrier that had ceased time shattered. Elizabeth came out dazed, like being pulled out of a dream. Sound returned to her ears and her eyes flicked back open, though she didn't remember when she had closed them. Darcy's breath was uneven and when she looked up into his eyes full of question he responded by backpedaling unsteadily, almost stumbling away from her. It was then that she saw it, reflected in his eyes. Darcy was afraid.

As Darcy reeled with the sudden pull to reality, he flailed for a foothold in order to keep his emotions in tact. He was in bliss, in complete and utter happiness, but then he felt the fear spring anew within himself. He couldn't do it again. He couldn't face her rejection. He pulled back because he did not want her to do it first. He wouldn't be able to survive to open his eyes to see her eyes burn in anger at his daring.

"I'm sorry Elizab-- Miss. Elizabeth. I didn't mean to. I wanted to-- I just…I'm sorry." With that Darcy turned to flee.

For Elizabeth it was then that time froze. As she watched him leave, she delved into her emotions. The answer she found was obvious. Yes, she would not only have allowed him to kiss her, but would probably willingly return it. In that one moment they shared she would have accepted any proposal he made, whether it was to stay like that forever or walk back to his house engaged. She felt it. She loved him. He had tried to show her, so many times that he tried to make her see just how much he loved her. Now it was her turn.

Trying to catch up to the long strides of Darcy, Elizabeth shouted, "Darcy!"

He stubbornly moved onwards, hardly changing speed. Elizabeth made a full on dash and ever so carefully, slipped a hand into his own. Darcy halted immediately and stared at their entwined hands mutely.

"Where are you off to Mr. Darcy? Leaving a guest like that. How would I be able to find my way back?"

She smiled and in her own way it meant that everything was alright…maybe even more than alright.

Darcy didn't say anything. He didn't need to. He merely returned the smile and walked on with her, hand and hand. Never once did either of them make an indication that they should switch back to the proper linking of arms. They walked back onto the main grounds thusly and only when they entered the house did they separate and never once did they think that perhaps in one of Pemberly's three hundred and sixty windows a pair of eyes watched them…and narrowed.