Author's Note: We last left our hero reeling from reliving his disastrous proposal, but he is determined to see this through! I promise a little more divergence from the familiar dialogue, as our hero decides to take some things into his own hands. Thank you for all the reviews, follows, and favs! This chapter was difficult, as I have a lot of what comes after this, but this was something I had to work on amidst everything that is happening right now. I hope you are staying safe and healthy.

Chapter 4

He heard Elizabeth's voice through the darkness.

"Mr. Darcy! What are you doing here?" …. "You know my nephew.?"…. "Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting your nephew in Hertfordshire." … "Mr. Collins! You can't sit next to your wife…"

The voices faded in and out, distorted. A blur of figures began to appear before him, and just as his dizziness threatened to overcome him, he was sitting at the dining table in Rosings.

"My eldest sister is currently in London…"

The scene came into focus mid-conversation. Darcy looked from his plate of white soup to Lady Catherine and Elizabeth.

"Has your governess left you?

"We never had a governess."

"No governess? Five daughters brought up at home without a governess, I never heard such a thing! Your mother must have been quite a slave to your education."

"Not at all Lady Catherine," Elizabeth replied kinder than his aunt deserved.

Here, Darcy ventured to look at her. Her grace under scrutiny had only endeared him to her further. He felt a rush of warmth, evaporating the anger he had felt only moments ago at her cruelty towards him. Darcy recognized this forgotten, not unpleasant, feeling as the nervous energy he felt in the pit of his stomach when he saw her at Rosings. He had come to Rosings with the single object of seeing her. He needed to see her to confirm whether it was a fleeting infatuation or whether he was determined to have her. His feelings for her had seen her walking across the yard from the parsonage. His heart fluttered at the sight of her. After his failed proposal, this warmth for her had been replaced by bitterness. He had somehow forgotten the true effect she had on him.

Lady Catherine continued to prattle on "Your younger sisters, are they…," but he was no longer listening to her. Here, now, he did not need to show his difficult aunt any more attention than she deserved. Instead, he looked at Elizabeth in awe.

"You were magnificent," he spoke tenderly to Elizabeth. She still held the spoon filled with a soup she had not yet tasted. Elizabeth looked at him and flashed him a dazzling smile.

"I was, was I not? My courage always rises at any attempt to intimidate me," she replied, looking rather pleased with herself.

He smiled softly, "Undoubtably. You certainly did not need my help, but I should have censured her. Aunt Catherine has always been difficult, but her lack of propriety towards you was particularly trying," he explained.

"As you well know, Mr. Darcy, I am familiar with the embarrassment stemming from the indecorous behavior of family members. Sometimes there is not much anyone can do about the behavior of one's nearest relations besides take it in stride with a smile" she said, her eyes twinkling. Darcy was rendered momentarily speechless. He had not, even in the months since this very dinner, taken much time to consider the similarities in their positions. He had never seen the Bennets act maliciously rude as his Aunt often did. In comparison to his Aunt's behavior, Mrs. Bennet was not nearly as ridiculous.

"Yes, I suppose that is an excellent way to handle it," he replied finally, afraid that not replying would somehow hasten the end of the memory. Darcy's heart tightened; how long did he have with her here? They would go through a few more courses, and then they would be in the parlor. His attempt to recollect how much time he had seemed to speed up the dinner. He heard snippets of the rest of the conversation, mostly Colonel Fitzwilliam trying to finally distract Lady Catherine from interrogating Elizabeth further, but he was intent on fixing his gaze on Elizabeth.

When he finally looked away from her, he was no longer at the table. Instead, they were all at the parlor. Elizabeth was enjoying visiting with exotic birds when his Aunt requested, she play. He remembered feeling curious to her ability, as he had never heard her play before, and watched with interest as she made her way cautiously to the piano. Ignoring his aunt's voice, which seemed far away to him now, he quickly made his way to Elizabeth's side.

She glanced at him, "You mean to frighten me Mr. Darcy, by coming in all your state to hear me. But I will not be alarmed, even if your sister does play so well."

He attempted more of a smile than he had previously. Why had he been so grim around her? He felt simultaneously delighted and terrified by her proximity at dinner, and he was drawn to her now like a magnet. This evening had solidified in his mind that he wanted her at his side always. He never wanted to sit in a parlor or enjoy a dinner without Elizabeth Bennet.

"I am well enough acquainted with you, Miss Elizabeth, to know that I cannot alarm you even should I wish it," Darcy replied. Her small scoff made the corners of his mouth turn upward. He enjoyed teasing her.

She did play quite well, and he wished to listen to her forever. But when he woke up in the morning, he realized, he would not even remember what the melody she played sounded like or the way her hands moved determinedly over the keys. His heart clenched.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had made his way over. That blasted man was about to ask an impertinent question, "What was my friend like in Hertfordshire?"

Darcy refrained from rolling his eyes. It would give Richard no greater pleasure than to make sport of Darcy, and Darcy knew even then that Elizabeth was the perfect person to indulge his cousin. He braced himself for Elizabeth's response.

"You really care to know? Prepare yourself for something very dreadful," she shot a warning look to both Darcy and the Colonel. Darcy grimaced.

"The first time I saw him, he danced with nobody at all, even though gentlemen were scarce and there was more than one young lady sitting down without a partner." The Colonel looked at him with a smile. Darcy ignored him entirely.

"I knew nobody beyond my own party," he defended himself weakly.

"Oh, and nobody can be introduced in a ballroom," Elizabeth replied with a touch of hostility. As his cousin moved away from them, Darcy knew the end of the evening was drawing near. Lady Catherine would send the Collins' and Elizabeth away shortly, no doubt in part because of the attention he had shown Elizabeth. He knew it drew ire from his Aunt. He did not care then, but he certainly was beginning to care now, worried as the memory would begin to fade.

Why do I care? He asked himself. The sooner he finished erasing his memories of her, the sooner the knot in his heart would release, and he would be able to breathe again. He would no longer spend his nights agonizing over his failure to win her heart.

But you hardly attempted to win it. Not truly. Darcy shook his head at his own thought, and then realized Elizabeth had resumed her playing.

"I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before," he offered by way of explanation. He so desperately wanted her to understand him. He had often felt that during her acquaintance she did understand him.

Elizabeth held his gaze as she spoke, "Perhaps you should take your aunt's advice and practice."

He was struck when she had said it, not because it had offended him, but because he had so few people in his life who challenged him. Many people cared deeply for him- Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana certainly- but he conducted himself in such a way that discouraged anyone from rebuking him. Except for Elizabeth. She was consistent in her pressure for him improve on his deficiencies. Was that not also what she was doing when she rejected him? Insist that he behave in a more gentleman like manner? Why had he not seen it this way before? He had been angered by her rejection so greatly that he barely paused to consider how her words were not without cause. And now he would not have the opportunity to correct himself.

Lost in his thought, Darcy suddenly remembered what was happening. He was supposed to walk away from her, and surely the memory would end, and he would never think of this moment again. He rooted himself to the spot, one hand still resting on the piano. Why was the desire to prolong the moment so strong? He gritted his teeth, looking down at her as she played. She seemed determined to ignore him.

"Miss Elizabeth-" he began unexpectedly. Her hands stopped suddenly, a discordant note playing as she looked up at him.

"Mr. Darcy, how am I supposed to provide entertainment to her Ladyship's standards if you keep inter—" she stopped suddenly, glancing behind him. "Where is Charlotte? Did everyone leave?" she asked, confused. Darcy turned his head slightly, wanting to somehow keep Elizabeth in his sight while confirming what he suspected. The room was empty.

"You can see that they are gone?" he asked her, confused and surprised.

"Yes. What is happening?"

He sensed he did not have enough time to explain it to her even if he wanted to. The dizziness was threatening to overtake him again. The colors and shapes in the room were losing their sharpness.

"Miss Elizabeth-" Darcy repeated, boldly taking a seat next to her on the piano bench, in part to stop the spinning. He needed to be near to her before this memory slipped away. She instinctively created space by moving further down the small bench. "Miss Elizabeth, you are quite right in your advice. I should and can practice conversing with those I do not know well. I find all my conversations with you…well, almost all our conversations…exceedingly pleasant. Would it please you if I attempted to overcome my natural disposition to silence?" he spoke rapidly, desperate for confirmation of what, he did not know. To where did these questions tend? Darcy could not be sure, but he wanted answers. These recollections, spurred by the joyful feelings she produced in himself, were helping him see a different path forward. But how could he stop what he had started?

"Happy manners satisfy everyone. But why would you want to please me, sir?" Elizabeth asked quietly, her dark eyebrows raising suspiciously. She was impossibly close. His leg touched hers. He leaned forward, bringing his mouth close to her ear.

"Because you are worthy of being pleased," he whispered. She turned to face him more fully, eyes wide and curious, her face remaining inches from his.

Please, do not let this dream end.

And as soon as he finished his thought, she was gone. The pianoforte still in front of him. Darcy brought his elbows to the keys, causing a cacophony of notes to fill the darkness, and rested his face in his hands.

I want her out of my mind. I want to wake up, and I never want to think of her again. She is disgusted by the thought of me. This was the right thing to do. I never want to think of her again.

"Thinking it does not make it the truth in my heart," he whispered aloud into his hands. He rubbed his eyes. His hands moved from his face, and he could see he was no longer in Rosings. No, it was now Netherfield's more tasteful rooms coming into focus. He was in the library at Netherfield and judging from the chatter and light music he could hear from down the hall, it was the night of the ball. He had to continue. He was never one to not finish what he started. He was almost to the end. He was almost to the end. As this dawned on Darcy, he stood abruptly. It was almost the end of their time together. What did he want to do? What could he even do now?