Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews! I enjoy reading all the speculation. I appreciate your patience in my updates. Without giving too much away for this chapter, I am following the simplified narrative turns of the film, meaning we will not see the Bingleys or Hursts at Pemberley. I didn't forget them (ha!); I just omitted them. I hope you can still enjoy this chapter. I also wanted to share some music: I've been listening to a Spotify playlist called "elizabeth and darcy." I often write while listening to it. I did not make the playlist, but I do encourage you to search for it if you want some music to read to! Please review! Have a safe and healthy socially distanced weekend!

Chapter 9

Fitzwilliam Darcy was sleeping in his bed at the Darcy House in London. His eyes fluttered opened.

"—Oakham Mount." Darcy whispered to himself as he came into consciousness. His own voice startled him further awake. Oakham Mount. He woke with that name on his lips, but he did not know its origins. He must have been dreaming, and it was not uncommon for him to not recall the contents of his dreams.

Groaning, Darcy turned over in his bed as he began to wake up. His head throbbed painfully, and he reached up to rub his temples in a vain attempt to soothe the ache. He wondered if he had drunk all the liquor in the house last night. Surely, he must have.

His nightshirt was damp with sweat. He vaguely recollected tossing and turning at night. Darcy turned over, yawning, and wiping the sleep from his eyes. He was tempted to try to go back to sleep so that he would not have to withstand the incessant pounding in his head, but he realized it was a futile effort. He had awoken with the desire to return to Pemberley. And to drink a strong cup of tea, or even better, coffee. Leaning over his bed, he reached for the chord near it to call his valet, ignoring the early morning hour.

His steaming bath and getting dressed had eased his headache, but a soft pulsing remained. After he finished buttoning his vest, he made up his mind.

"Holmes, I would like to start my return to Pemberley today. I have been gone much too long, and I would dearly love to see Georgiana again," Darcy explained. His valet looked a little surprised. Darcy had not expressed a particular interest or preference in anything for the last few weeks.

"When we last spoke, you had not planned to return for at least a fortnight, Sir," he said by way of questioning the sudden change.

"Oh? Well, I have changed my mind. I trust it will not be difficult to make the necessary arrangements over the course of the morning. Send a rider ahead now to make lodging arrangements along the road, and I shall make it there by tomorrow," Darcy replied as he considered and then reached for one of the lighter coats his man held out as an option.

"Consider it done, Sir. I will see that your carriage is ready to leave at your convenience" Here, Holmes observed Darcy carefully. For one, Mr. Darcy had not put much thought into his appearance recently. He also was not particularly prone to changing his plans and seemed far less morose than he had as of late. Whatever the cause of this change, Holmes decided it was welcome.

Darcy nodded and dismissed him. As Darcy turned to head downstairs, his head gave a particularly painful throb. Darcy's hand immediately went up to his head to try to comfort himself, and in his speed, his elbow bumped the dresser next to him. Darcy cursed as he saw a small vial on the dresser top tip over, spilling a tiny amount of liquid out of it.

Now rubbing his elbow, Darcy looked curiously at the dresser. He did not recognize the vial, and the amount that spilt was only a few drops, so he set the vial up right and wiped the dresser with his pocket handkerchief. It hardly made it damp. Perhaps it was something his valet used to prepare his bath or shave? It did not really explain what it was doing here, but Darcy was not overly concerned about it. He turned now to finally head down to breakfast when out of the corner of his eyes he saw a stack of letters on his writing desk.

The top one was for Georgiana. Smiling, he stopped at the desk and tucked that one into the inner pocket of his jacket. He could hand deliver it now, which he was sure would amuse Georgiana. The next letter was for Bingley. Darcy's eyebrow furrowed. He must written last night, but he had no recollection of doing so. Perhaps he had indulged too much in drink. With a shameful shrug to himself, he grabbed the stack without looking at the letters beneath Bingley's. As he made his way to the parlor in which he usually took breakfast, he passed a footman by the door.

"Please send these off," Darcy said, handing the stack over. He then strolled down the hall, feeling very famished. If not for this lingering headache, Darcy would say he felt well. He felt more energy than he had in a long time. The previous months felt like a blur to him, but he had the distinct impression that he had not been himself. Something did nag in the back of his mind, though. He attributed the length of time he had been away from Pemberley as unsettling him. The country air would be refreshing, and his sister would provide some solace to the loneliness that was threatening to sink in.

It was not long before Darcy finished breaking his fast and was dressed in his travel outwear befitting a gentleman of his standing. His carriage was ready for his trip to Pemberley. He headed down the steps of Darcy House onto the street without glancing at his surroundings. He was mid-step into the carriage when a man appeared beside him.

"Sir, if I may, a word with you," the man said. Darcy's eyes narrowed at the man, as he did not recognize him. The man was older, simply dressed, and the large bags under his eyes indicated he had not slept the night before. Darcy was not inclined to speak to a total stranger who so rudely accosted him. When Darcy made no motion to acknowledge the man, he stepped closer to the carriage, impeding Darcy's progress in. This caused Darcy's footman to step between them, pushing the agitated man from Darcy.

"Sir, please. I need to speak to you about a private matter concerning yourself. You must listen to me," the man said, attempting to push the footman away from him. The man grew more panicked as Darcy seemed confounded at his presence. Darcy was certain this man was unwell, and while a part of him wanted nothing more than to climb into his carriage and drive away without further thought of a mad man in the street, the more generous part of him thought he should hear what the man had to say.

"Granger, let him go. What is it?" Darcy asked, standing on the sidewalk. His footman let the man go, and the man straightened his disheveled coat while glaring at the footman. Darcy motioned for Granger to step back farther to grant them the privacy the man had wanted. When the man hesitated, Darcy's temper began to flair.

"I am in a hurry to leave, and I have no time for strangers at my doorstep. Out with it," Darcy said, his ire growing. The man shook his head sadly at the word 'stranger.'

"I am no stranger, sir. I am an apothecary who you visited yesterday. I was denied an audience with you when I followed you home, and I have been waiting for you to come out so that I may deliver a message of utmost importance—"

"You have me mistaken for someone else. I have seen no apothecary," Darcy said and turned his body to enter the carriage again. The apothecary stepped forward to block Darcy's path once more.

"Then you have taken the most extreme path. You do not remember because you came to me in search of something to cure you of a heart break. A drink that would alter your memory to forget someone," the apothecary hissed, half-whispering to avoid being overheard too clearly by Darcy's servants. Darcy stared blankly at him. When Darcy said nothing, the apothecary continued.

"It is worse than I feared if you cannot remember me. I came to stop you, but it is too late. I regret making the mixture, and I shall never again aid anyone in such an unnatural course of action. I am visiting any of those whose residencies I know, but I had to begin with you, sir, as I thought I could stop you. You came to me in search of something that would make you forget someone you loved—"

"You speak nonsense. I demand you remove yourself from my sight at once," Darcy said as he finally found his words, this time stepping forward to move the apothecary from the carriage. The apothecary, fearing for his own safety, stepped aside, but spoke rapidly.

"Sir, was there anything unexplained in your chambers? A small vial perhaps? Was there anything in its contents this morning? If there was, you may still have a chance-"

Darcy thought of the mysterious vial in his room, and for a moment he looked directly at the apothecary in concern, but then shook his head. "Granger, get him out of here," Darcy ordered, and his footman immediately came from behind the carriage and began pulling the apothecary away. Darcy had no patience of nonsense. He climbed into his carriage and shut the door firmly himself. He could hear the muffled voice of the apothecary.

"You forgot someone dear to you. You did not tell me her name, but sir, it is the truth and you may regret—"

Aggravated, and still battling a headache that grew worse during his conversation with the apothecary, Darcy hit the ceiling of his carriage with his cane forcefully causing it to spring into motion. He was unsettled. Nervously fingering his cane with his hands, he contemplated the apothecary's words. How had he known about the vial in his room? Had it been a lucky guess? Darcy cursed himself for not having inspected the bottle in the room more closely. But other than the vial, everything else he had spoken could not be true. Darcy had never been in love. Of this, he was certain.

How certain? He thought to himself. It was beyond comprehension that such a thing could happen. Darcy was nothing if not resolute in his opinions once formed, and in the first leg of his journey, he managed to convince himself of not only the impossibility of the situation, but the absurdity of his being in love, and it leading to what the apothecary claimed. No, it was ridiculous.

Oakham Mount.

This name came to mind, as if it were the notes of a forgotten melody, just as he was determined to forget this strange occurance entirely. The unfamiliar name provided Darcy unexpected comfort. He felt soothed by the name, even when he could not quite place where he had heard the name or seen the location it referred to. With a jolt, Darcy's carriage came to a stop. He would rest for the night at an inn a little over halfway to Pemberley.

Darcy was accustomed to the sometimes arduous journey from London to Derbyshire by carriage, but it was still a relief when he finally set sight on his beloved Pemberley. This was his sanctuary. Being master to a grand estate gave him a sense of purpose. He relished the charge of maintaining a well-run estate, a season of good harvest, a bountiful year for his tenants. It was the most natural thing in the world for Darcy to take care of others. Darcy sometimes mused on whether this was an innate characteristic of Darcy men, for his father had also been generous and protective of all those under his care, or whether he had learned this quickly after the death of his mother in his childhood and then his father only five years ago. Protecting the Darcy legacy, and Georgiana, had become a central part of his life. He had nearly failed Georgiana last summer, and he had vowed then to do everything in his power to improve his protection of her.

As Darcy's carriage rounded a turn, the lake at the entrance of Pemberley and the house itself came into view. His heart clenched, and he furrowed his eyebrows in concern. He must have missed the country during his time in London more than he realized, for he usually did not have such a strong physical reaction to the grounds. In particular, his eyes gravitated to a grassy knoll near the lake. The dazzling summer sun illuminated the lushness of the grounds, and the view was particularly spectacular this day. Inexplicably, and but for a moment, the apothecary's words came to his mind, but he shooed the thought away. Soon, his carriage came to a stop at the entrance and a footman was opening his door.

With renewed energy, Darcy ascended the steps two at a time. It was strange Mrs. Reynolds was not there to greet him as she usually did, but he was arriving unexpectedly. He was relieved of his travel outerwear by a nearby servant, and then he headed towards Georgiana's favored parlor, where he hoped to find her. As he passed the public rooms, he heard Mrs. Reynold's voice ringing from inside.

"I have never known a cross word from him in my life, and I have known him ever since he was four years old!"

Darcy smiled and paused at the gallery door. One could forgive the sin of eavesdropping on one's own employees, especially when the praise was high indeed. Lucky for Darcy, the door was slightly ajar. He peaked through the door. He heard faint responses from three unfamiliar voices, but their backs were to him as they observed the miniatures and portraits. Pemberley, like many large estates of its kind, was open to visitors. Darcy rarely made his presence known to sightseers, and this time would be no different. He could only guess from their forms and voices that it was an older couple and a young woman. The woman had paused to observe a large portrait of him as the others continued walking, heading through doors on the opposite entrance from Darcy's location.

Mrs. Reynolds responded to a statement Darcy could not hear as she walked, "…some people call him proud, but I am sure I never saw anything of it…".

At this, the young woman that was there turned her head quickly towards Mrs. Reynolds. The rim of her golden bonnet worked in conjunction with a cascade of brown curls to obscure her face. Darcy observed as her head turned from Mrs. Reynolds back to his portrait. Mrs. Reynolds and the other guests were nearly through the doors to the next room, yet the woman lingered, her head tilting.

Darcy was mesmerized. Why he felt compel to watch this young woman from the ungentlemanly position of spying on her through the doors of his own home, he was not sure. He briefly contemplated entering the room.

"Come along, Lizzy," the other woman called, causing both the girl and Darcy to startle. Darcy watched as the girl, Lizzy, lingered for a fraction of a moment more before following the couple and Mrs. Reynolds through the opposite doors. The party was still completely unaware of his presence. Her movement broke the spell on Darcy, and he shook his head to clear his mind. He had not realized he was hardly breathing. With that, Darcy proceeded down the hall towards the parlor he had been intending to go, lost in momentary contemplation. The sound of Georgiana's pianoforte brought him back to the present.

"Fitzwilliam!" Georgiana cried happily as she heard him enter the parlor. She stood from her new pianoforte but hesitated. Darcy was confused by her reticence, and so he opened his arms wide. Georgiana's face broke into a smile and she ran towards her brother. He swooped her up into his arms and spun her, causing her to shriek in delight.

"Dearest Georgiana!" Darcy said, putting her down and holding her by the shoulders with his arms extended, as if he was seeing her for the first time in a long time.

"My dear brother, I thought you were not returning for some time. You seem well," Georgiana said happily, eyeing her brother with surprise at his affection and enthusiasm.

"And why should I not be when I am home again?" he smiled brightly at her, and then remembered he had something for her.

"You are right though, I did decide to return rather spontaneously. In fact, I had written to you just before deciding to come home. I did not plan to deliver this in person, but I thought you might find it humorous for me to play the part of a postman," Darcy reached into his pocket and handed Georgiana the letter addressed to her. Georgiana took it with a laugh.

"Fitzwilliam, you have saved postage. Very thoughtful of you. I would like to seize the opportunity of your good humor and enjoy your company in person rather than your words on paper, though. I will save this for later," she said and placed the letter on a small table near her pianoforte. "I shall call for tea, and you can tell me about your time in London. I am so pleased to see that it has raised your spirits." Darcy furrowed his brows in confusion but decided to question Georgiana on her comment after tea. They moved to the large and most comfortable couch near a window. This parlor overlooked the western view of the estate, and Darcy, who could hardly pass a window without gazing out of it, saw that the visitors were leaving.

He moved closer to the window to try to get a better view of the woman he had seen earlier. She was there on the stone terrace, walking slowly and behind her two companions. Just as she was at the stone steps that would lead her away from his sight, she stopped. Darcy held his breath. As if sensing his gaze, she turned and looked up towards the window.

Darcy could see her clearly now. Her brown hair matched her dark eyes, and her round face was made pleasant by her slightly flushed cheeks. Darcy desired for her to look directly at him, but she was looking beyond him, admiring the general splendor of the house. It occurred to Darcy that the glare of the sun was obscuring him from her view.

This felt familiar. But he was certain he had never seen her before. They had called her Lizzy. A feeling of melancholy began washing over him, and he pressed his forehead close to the glass. No sooner had he done so that the girl turned and began walking quickly down the stairs, disappearing from his view.

"Fitzwilliam?" Georgiana asked softly. She had observed his change in demeanor as he looked out the window, but she had learned in the past months to give him some space when he became melancholy. "What is it?"

"Nothing, dear," Darcy replied, straightening himself up. He lingered at the window. "Please, do call for some tea," he said finally, turning to her with the attempt at a small smile on his face. The moment had passed.

Author's Note: Ooookay so we will be seeing more of Elizabeth soon and maaaybe even ODC interaction in the "real" world.. I will try not to drag it out for your sakes too much! Next update coming next weekend. Please review!