A/N: I love writing Darcy and Elizabeth, so hopelessly attracted to each other! I model a lot off of my own experiences as a young teenager, thinking I was so ready for all the grown up stuff... even when I wasn't. LOL. And this is how far I am so far, we are 40,000 words in and this is just the end of Act One. :) :) Here we go to London in the next chapter, get your easter egg requests in :)

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The next morning, Elizabeth's eyes flew open with the dawn. Excitement from the previous evening, mixed with anticipation over travelling to London, disturbed her sleep all night. One moment she dreamt happiness in Mr. Darcy's arms, imagining the bed chambers in his townhome and the next, a nightmare crept in of Lady Catherine tearing them apart and banishing her New Castle. Each time she woke from nightmares she caught her breath and remembered that Lady Catherine held no authority over her, and repeated the cycle again with a new threat from the woman.

Adrenaline running through her veins when she awoke the last time and the dim sliver of sunlight glowed around the edge of the shutter, she pushed herself out of bed. She spied Jane sleeping so serenely and felt very cross that her sister had not endured a carriage ride with the Phillipses the previous night, an exercise in exasperation reserved only for Lizzy.

In the short carriage ride from Meryton to Longbourn, her Aunt and Uncle Phillips had done their best to plead the case of her elders against Mr. Darcy, but it fell on mostly deaf ears. Mrs. Phillips warned her of Mr. Darcy's temperament, recounting the public slight of Mr. Collins in the assembly room.

"Poor Mr. Collins, such a noble man, being of the church," she began. "He was most visibly upset to even address Mr. Darcy, and how that man spoke to him. . ." Aunt Phillips took a breath to increase the dramatic tenor of her account, "the poor man was left trembling I tell you! Wasn't he, Mr. Phillips?"

"Yes, dear," Elizabeth's uncle responded.

"My word. And then Mr. Darcy stormed completely out of the ballroom!" Aunt Phillips ended her account with a huff.

"Were any privy to the matter Mr. Collins brought before Mr. Darcy?"

Both of her relations twitched uncomfortably. It took her a moment to understand, but then she relieved their discomfort.

"He has already explained the circumstances to me, as has Mrs. Collins," Elizabeth explained, keeping the confidences should the Phillipses not know the particulars. Heaping further disgrace upon the Collinses while they had to remain in the neighborhood was the last thing Elizabeth wished to commit by cavalierly describing her private experiences.

"Indeed, and Mr. Darcy is at the crux of it, I tell you!" Aunt Phillips practically shouted as the carriage neared Longbourn. But she did not tell Elizabeth any specific complaint or grievance; her vagueness belied her aim.

Elizabeth struggled not to laugh, as there was a point to this interview, but it was more in line with the gossip Aunt Phillips might procure, not warning her as to the specifics Mr. Darcy's alleged poor behavior.

"Lizzy," her uncle caught her attention just as she was about to step down from the carriage and use her parents' misdirected discipline to begin packing for London, "do have a care. You may feel violently in love with this man, as is your right. My objection to the lack of a wedding contract, also felt by your father, is only out of your interests."

"I do not understand why no one believes Mr. Darcy shall have his own solicitors draft the papers?" she asked, closing her eyes to prevent angry tears from welling in her tear ducts.

Her uncle reached out to gently touch her elbow, offering her comfort. "Because I offered to write to his firm directly and expedite the work last week."

Despite the well-reasoned logic of her uncle, Elizabeth entered her home, alone, with a singular purpose: to pack her trunks.

But especially after a night of fitful slumber, nervous anxiety over her uncle's ominous concern coupled with her observations of Mr. Darcy in the tavern room gave her additional pause. Yet, what was she supposed to do?

As she rose to dress for the trip, she stubbed her toe on the aforementioned trunk.

"Ow!"

"Mmmm, no more, please," Jane mumbled in her sleep, as Elizabeth nursed her injury.

Limping to the wardrobe, she allowed the physical pain of her foot to open the watershed she had kept at bay for so long. Mr. Darcy had practically denied all aid to the Collinses, when it was their engagement that harmed them. Mr. Darcy had run off when he was angry, albeit the last time to her and not away. Mr. Darcy had pushed liberties with her person from the moment she had accepted his hand, and now, even if she wished to wait for such a time for him to go to London without her and pray he returned, he possessed all of those letters from her that could prove her ruin.

She startled as the door to the room she shared with Jane creaked open.

"Lizzy? Is he here yet?" Mary whispered through the sliver of space between the door and the jamb.

Distracted from her fears, Elizabeth tiptoed to the door, her right foot still smarting, and shook her head where Mary could view her.

"Good, I must finish packing," she said, with a soft giggle and a smile.

Elizabeth sighed. She knew she loved Mr. Darcy, and while his character could so often and easily be misconstrued, a misfortune she had engaged in many times herself, he was a good man.

She resolved to allow him to explain himself when she presented the intelligence from her uncle. Perhaps Mr. Darcy underestimated her relation's ability. Perhaps there was another reason why he didn't accept Uncle Phillip' help, but whatever the reason was, she would give him a chance to explain.

Solemnly singing this vow with herself, she made a stern nod in the looking glass, and thought about how the business of becoming a man's wife was very difficult indeed. Loyalty was a trait best earned over time, but she had none left as his carriage might arrive at any moment.

Suddenly, Elizabeth devised an idea of how she could give Mr. Darcy the benefit of any doubts in her mind, while satisfying the pessimistic nature of her elders. But first, she needed to find her father. So she abandoned her final preparations and finished her dress, to hurry below stairs.

Mr. Bennet arose shortly after hearing two of his daughters stirring and startled Elizabeth from behind as she was looking for him below stairs in the dining room and his study.

"You appear dressed for an adventure, another meeting with Mr. Darcy on Oakham Mount?" he asked, granting Elizabeth ample opportunity for dishonesty, though such a thing was not in her nature.

After calming her nerves, she held her chin high and attempted to show her father how very mature she had become in all of the weeks of betrothal. "No, Papa, Mr. Darcy is calling this morning to take me to London where we will marry by special license."

Mr. Bennet scowled at the confirmation of the gossip he had faced the night before. "Have you lost all of your senses, Elizabeth? What have I done to encourage two of my daughters to run off with scoundrels?" he complained bitterly, walking away from his daughter in the hall to unlock his study door. He had decided to forgo a cup of coffee to raise his nerve; he was going straight for a small glass of brandy.

"Father, that is not fair." Elizabeth chased after him, keen to defend Mr. Darcy's honor and her plans. "Mr. Darcy is not a scoundrel like Wickham, the later you have routinely declared to like better. Without Mr. Darcy, Mr. Wickham would have abandoned Lydia. And then where would we be?"

"So you sacrifice yourself for the rich man's whims? Whatever aid he gave to our family was in direct proportion to assuaging his own guilt."

Flustered, Elizabeth realized to win the argument, she needed to change positions entirely. As she closed her eyes and tried to think, her father interrupted her strategizing.

"I do not trust him, Lizzy. I beg of you to please consider the experiences of an old man who has made many mistakes."

Noise from the front hall alerted both of them of Mr. Darcy's arrival, but only Elizabeth left to see to their caller. The butler retreated as soon as Miss Elizabeth came into sight, and Mr. Darcy stood looking more handsome than even the night before. His coat was cut in a fine, dark navy blue and his buckskins tight enough to leave little to Elizabeth's imagination, though she had a good idea as to the size of his best attributes.

"Elizabeth," he managed, huskily, realizing instantly they were alone. He pulled her for the kiss he so desperately desired the evening before, and she returned his passion in kind.

One kiss led to another, and another, until they both managed to break away. As he pulled her into an embrace, he spoke over her head. "I cannot trust that the day has finally come where we leave this place together, and in a few days more, none shall separate us again."

Elizabeth shuddered in his arms at the poetic notion of them never parting, even if the truth of such a dream was unrealistic by any logic. Then a nagging voice in the back of her mind begged to be heard, reminding her of the earlier idea of a compromise.

"Come with me," she said, grasping his hand and leading him directly into her father's study. As Mr. Bennet raised his objections, Elizabeth closed the door and both men suddenly fell silent, glaring at the other. As she looked between them, she decided quickly who to address first.

"Fitzwilliam, do you love me?" she asked.

With a determined stare at the man who had become his adversary of late, he spoke.

"With all of my heart."

"And have you felt this way about me longer than a mere fortnight?"

He turned to her utterly confused. "Nearly a year," he said, quieter than his earlier declaration.

"Elizabeth I do not have time for this nonsense—" Mr. Bennet began and his daughter interrupted him with a raised voice.

"You shall make the time, sir, for this nonsense, or be lost to me forever," she warned, her eyes flashing with anger.

Her father opened his mouth and then closed it, keeping his anger in check, a clear sign of age demonstrating restraint. Elizabeth took it as a sign to continue.

"Papa, I love this man and he shall be my husband. We leave today for London, and Mary has agreed to go as well. But I want you to come with me. If you love me as much as you say, as much as you have shown these twenty one years, come with us to London. Please? If Mr. Darcy is the cad you say he is," she explained, and Mr. Darcy involuntarily tensed at such an insult, but Elizabeth's open hand implored him to wait, "then come with me to protect me. We will sign the contract together, you can meet with Mr. Darcy's solicitors, no?" Elizabeth asked her intended as much as she asked her father.

Again, the standoff between them appeared unbreakable. Neither man spoke first and Elizabeth held her tongue. Either her father loved her and held convictions behind his words, or he was without question the laziest, most-selfish man who could never suspend his pleasure for the need of his daughters. There was no ambiguity in what his next decision would mean.

"I shall ride in my own carriage and need an hour to make arrangements."

Elizabeth rushed to hug her father, though he feigned indifference to her affections, he quickly reminded her that she impeded his efforts. Frowning, he left his study with the door half open, but the second he left, Mr. Darcy reached for Elizabeth's hand to pull her out of view from the hall.

"Are you angry with me?" she managed, as both of their hands frantically rushed to feel and stroke any part of the other one remotely close enough without disturbing any clothing. As he kissed her neck, his hands cupped her breasts as he pressed her against the wall.

Still, Mr. Darcy did not answer and matched her sigh for sigh until Elizabeth asserted her capabilities of capturing his direct attention. Boldly, her hand slipped precisely where his manhood struggled against the restraint of his breeches. She paused as he swallowed a groan, leaning his forehead against the wall over her shoulder.

She whispered her question again.

"No," he let out breathlessly, "but if he believes me a cad, I saw no gain in regulating my good behavior."

"Mmm," she mused, releasing her hand away from the fall of his breeches and looping her arms around his neck, instead. "I meant what I threatened, I would have run off with you if he had refused."

"There was never a doubt in my mind," he said, locking eyes again with his intended.

Elizabeth suddenly felt guilty. She wanted to ask so many difficult questions to clarify how and when they could and would help those in need. Christian charity had always been a value her family practiced, and despite the year of acquaintance with Mr. Darcy, at times it felt as though she did not know him at all. But she possessed not the words to voice any of her doubts, nor was the brief moment of privacy in her father's study the time or place.

Reluctantly, she shied away from his pinning against the wall as he leaned down to kiss her once more, missing her neck and haphazardly kissing her shoulder instead. Free from the confusion crafted by his closeness, she took a few more steps and turned her head sharply. Movement in the hall caught her eye, and her curiosity, as Mr. Darcy took the moment to find his better regulation.

"Mary?" Elizabeth called, as she heard her sister crying quietly at the piano.

Her sister turned away from her and wiped her eyes.

"Whatever is the matter?"

"I just saw—I saw Papa in the hall upstairs. He told Mama he is to go to London with you and Mr. Darcy!" Mary said, her lower lip trembling as she tried to contain her dashed hopes.

"Yes, he is, but why has that upset you? Has he said you cannot come?" Elizabeth said, feeling her anger at her father rising anew.

"No," Mary reasoned, wiping her eyes, "You won't need me to come anymore."

Elizabeth gawked at her sister that was often so serious, holding regard for her emotions did not easily come first to Elizabeth's mind. But underneath the piety and sermonizing, beat the heart of a young woman in Mary Bennet.

Lizzy laughed and offered her sister her handkerchief she now kept in a pocket at all times. Then she joined Mary on the piano bench so the sides of their arms touched.

"Of course I need you to come with me, I would never want to take on this adventure alone," Elizabeth confessed.

"But won't we be awfully squashed with four in Mr. Darcy's carriage?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Papa has said he will only ride in his carriage."

Mary looked down at the piano, disappointed again.

"Mary?" Elizabeth asked.

Mary braved looking at her elder sister and Elizabeth was immediately reminded of their childhood, with Mary so desperately trying to keep up with her and Jane. "Don't worry, you and I shall ride in Mr. Darcy's carriage. Father can attend to his book."