Author's note: I hope you are all healthy and safe! Darcy's letter to Elizabeth is in Chapter 11 if you need a refresher. It is referenced but not reproduced in full in this chapter.

Chapter 15

Meet me at Oakham Mount.

The words echoed in Darcy's head during the three-mile ride to Netherfield. Darcy spoke once to reassure his companions that he would be perfectly well after he retired for the evening. Bingley and Georgiana did not attempt to engage him in further conversation, although both looked at him with concern and uncertainty. He was grateful for their understanding, as he was occupied by his own thoughts. When Elizabeth spoke her parting words, he felt a tightening of his chest, as if his heart physically ached at the thought of parting with her. This feeling had not been there during their walks.

He was now troubled, confused, and feeling increasingly wretched for reasons he did not understand. Once Elizabeth had said she was in Hertfordshire last autumn, his mind went to the apothecary who had attempted to speak to him at Darcy house. Could he have been telling the truth? Had he done something to forget Elizabeth? Is this why his heart was compelled to return to Hertfordshire? He wracked his mind to try to remember anything from the autumn. The visit was a blur, which disturbed him greatly and seemed an even further indication that something was amiss. Why had this not bothered him before?

He remembered arriving to Netherfield. He remembered a crowded assembly. He remembered Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet dancing. He remembered Bingley encouraging him to dance, but he could not remember if he did. He remembered riding with Bingley through the estate many times and writing letters to his sister. He remembered frequently moving to different rooms and suggesting outdoor activities to avoid Caroline Bingley. He remembered Miss Bennet being ill…

His thoughts were interrupted by the carriage's abrupt stop at Netherfield. He exited the carriage and assisted Georgiana wordlessly. It was late, and they were all willing to retire. He escorted his sister to her room and reassured her of his health before retiring to his own chambers.

It would be impossible for him to sleep while his mind was a tempest of emotions. Thankfully, Bingley stocked the sitting area of his chambers with fine brandy. Darcy uncorked the decanter to pour himself a hearty cup before sitting down.

He nursed his drink in the light of the dim candles and moonlight. His mind was filled with Elizabeth. Her voice reading to him. Her figure at the summit of Oakham Mount.

Meet me at Oakham Mount.

Darcy closed his eyes, resting his forehead against his palm.

It was not the first time she had spoken those words to him.

Then let us have a proper goodbye. We can pretend we had one. Goodbye, Mr. Darcy. Remember me. Remember me. Meet me at-

What was a dream and what was a memory? The feel of her hand in his. A flash of Elizabeth glancing up at him from a piano in Rosings. A fragment of a conversation inside an apothecary shop. A ballroom in golden light. The memories were wisps, and Darcy thought his heart might burst from the longing that passed through him.

Darcy's eyes opened and he stood abruptly, leaving his glass on the table beside him. He grabbed one of the candles in its holder and walked out of his chamber. He walked briskly down the halls of Netherfield, feeling a sense of familiarity in his haste, and opened the double doors that were between the guest wing and area where Bingley entertained guests. He walked the hallways and rooms, which were only lit by the moonlight seeping through some of the uncovered windows and his own candle. The darkness bothered him little. He came to a stop in one room. The air in the room was stale from lack of use. Darcy stilled as he observed the room with the dim lighting available.

It is your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy. I talked about the dance, now you ought to remark on the size of the room or the number of couples.

I am perfectly happy to oblige. Please advise me of what you would like most to hear.

He took one step and then turned, following the motions of their dance. He remembered dancing with Elizabeth Bennet. He remembered his admiration for her, and his inability to stay away from her, despite his own misgivings about her and her family. Her family. As moments from the ball came back to him, he recalled his disapproval of their behavior. It was a stark contrast to his feeling towards them tonight at dinner. He had found them loud and unrefined to be sure, and her mother clearly did not favor him and took no pains to obscure it, and her younger sisters were silly, but they had been kind and welcoming to Georgiana. He remembered Elizabeth had challenged him during their dance, yet he could not recall the nature of their conversation.

He was feeling overwhelmed. The apothecary outside Darcy House whom he had so rudely dismissed had been trying to tell him something. He had done something to make himself forget someone he loved, the man had said. Had he, or did he love Elizabeth? He felt a great deal of admiration and respect for her that had grown on their walks together but could the unnamable feeling in the pit of his stomach be love?

Darcy left the room, returning quickly but quietly to his chambers. He finished the brandy he had abandoned, pacing back and forth in his room in thought. He poured himself another cup and drank that too, leaning on the fireplace mantle as he did so. Mr. Darcy believed himself a reasonable man. If he had done something to make himself forget Elizabeth, it would not be without reason. What had she done to warrant it?

No sooner had the question crossed his mind, did a flash of a drenched Elizabeth cross his mind. She was looking at him with such scorn.

Your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others…

He could remember no more of her words as a rush of disbelief and bitterness filled him. She hated him. What had prompted her speech, why she was so angry, he did not know. His emotions were a tempest. Affection, anger, anguish, all one inside him. Darcy finished his drink, hoping in vain it would numb him.

If she had said those dreadful things to him in the past, why had she been willing to see him? Why had she not spoken of their previous acquaintance? It suddenly occurred to him that she had looked distressed by his presence when he first met her at Oakham Mount. Perhaps she had merely been enduring his company as opposed to enjoying it as he had hers and was eagerly waiting for him to leave Hertfordshire.

The deluge of emotions inside him alarmed Darcy. He had never felt so much. These past days with Elizabeth had been a great comfort to him, and now the mere thought of her was invoking such misery. He knew now that whatever had transpired between them must have been meaningful. And unpleasant. If he could not be certain of her affections or intention towards him, he would not meet her with the same openness he had displayed as of late. He would steel himself against her and against whatever misguided emotions had led him to this misery to begin with.

He was anxious for Elizabeth to answer the questions he had and to help explain the many feelings within him and to clarify her opinion towards him. Darcy's sleep would be restless.

OoO

Elizabeth had risen just after dawn to make the long walk from Longbourn to Oakham Mount. He was waiting for her at the summit, alone, and dressed in such riding finery that she was taken aback, suddenly self-aware of the simple yellow morning dress she had selected primarily her ability to walk quickly in it.

When he heard her approach, he rose from the boulder he had been sitting on and bowed.

"Madam. I am here for whatever clarity you can provide."

His formality was disorienting. He was disorientating. Elizabeth never knew which Darcy she would encounter. She sighed, as if taking a deep breath before a plunge, and chose her words carefully before speaking.

"We were previously acquainted, Mr. Darcy. I was in Hertfordshire last autumn, and we spent some time in each other's company. This sounds impossible as I say it, but you had me erased from your memories. You wrote me a letter that may help you understand," she said. Elizabeth removed his letter from her pocket and held it up to him.

Darcy attempted to make the handwriting out from a distance but made no movement forward. She walked towards him slowly, extending her arm out to hand him the letter while maintaining her distance. Darcy grabbed the letter more forcefully than Elizabeth had anticipated. She felt her cheeks flush in agitation at his demeanor.

He read and reread its contents several times before glancing back up at Elizabeth, then away from her, then back to the letter and back to her. Elizabeth clasped her hands together and wrung her fingers in anticipation of his response. She could see the effort he was expending to school his features into a neutral expression, a habit she was familiar with from their previous encounters when he did not wish for others to know what he was thinking.

"What happened at our last meeting?" Darcy finally asked. Elizabeth hesitated, her mouth opening to speak, but she could not find her words.

"Madam, I beg you. I wrote 'I hope you can understand that the agony that continues to plague me since our last meeting leaves me no alternatives.' What exactly happened at our last meeting?" Darcy asked again, his voice stern.

"We parted on unpleasant terms when we last saw each other in Kent this past April," Elizabeth replied quietly. Darcy said nothing, and Elizabeth took this as an invitation to continue. The words spilled out of her.

"You asked for my hand. I declined your offer in the most definite terms because you insulted me in every way imaginable. You spoke of the inferiority of my circumstance, the unsuitability of my family, and the impossibility of a match. You claimed your very character was called into question by condescending to me. I declined your offer, most passionately. My mind had already been set against you due to your manners and other misunderstandings. I could not, at the time, agree to be your wife with the circumstances as they were."

Whether the shock on Darcy's face was due to the improbability to Darcy that he had condescended to ask her or that she would refuse him, Elizabeth could not be sure. Her own apprehension was multifaceted. It caused her pain to think of his words, to know that is what he had thought of her, and she did not want to admit to the things she had said in return. She wanted desperately to reach out to him, to touch his arm and soothe his confusion and worries away. It was a few moments before he broke the silence between them.

"I was the last man in the world you could be prevailed upon to marry?" Darcy said softly.

Elizabeth surprisingly brightened at his words, "You remember?"

"I cannot be certain, Miss Elizabeth, but that is what came to mind. Is that what you said?" Darcy asked.

"Yes. That is what I said," Elizabeth saw hurt wash over his features. She wished she could take the words back, "I was so angry at you Mr. Darcy. With good reason. I had just been told you had separated Mr. Bingley from Jane, and I thought you had behaved cruelly towards Mr. Wickham—"

The more she spoke, the more tense he grew. She saw his countenance darken at the mention of Wickham's name, and Elizabeth stepped forward to him. He took a step back. His retreat wounded her more than she could have anticipated, and she rushed out more explanations.

"I was wrong about him. You explained the truth of the situation in another letter that you delivered to me. We do not need to speak more of it. I misplaced my trust in him in an eagerness to have my opinion of you confirmed." How Elizabeth hated Wickham—not just for what he had done to Georgiana, but for the way he had manipulated her and prejudiced her further against Mr. Darcy.

"I see. We have quite a history, then," he said simply.

"Mr. Darcy, I –" Elizabeth began.

"Why did I address you so informally in the letter?" Darcy questioned.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks grow warm. She had noticed that too, "I do not know, Sir. You had never taken the liberty prior to this letter."

"Miss Elizabeth. If not for this letter, which is clearly in my hand, and many other strange experiences and feelings I have had in the last weeks, I could not believe this to be true. But it all must be true. Last night, I remembered a ball, and you calling me selfish amongst some other choice words, but I feel as though much is incomplete in my mind. I know not what to think," he said. They were quiet. Finally, Elizabeth spoke.

"I cannot tell you the distress I have experienced upon reading your letter and knowing the pain and anguish I have caused. I have misunderstood you, and I hope you can find some comfort in knowing I have reflected a great deal on your character and understand now how wrong I was in my initial impression of you. I have greatly enjoyed the time we have spent together these past mornings."

"Why were you not honest with me before? You have had many opportunities to tell me the truth," Darcy said accusingly.

"Your letter begged me not to acknowledge our history, Mr. Darcy. I simply did what you asked out of," Elizabeth paused, trying to find the right word to describe her motivation. She blushed. "Out of respect for your wishes." She finished. It was not the right word, but she could not let herself say that it was out of love. She could not admit that when it seemed that whatever tentative friendship they had formed was collapsing all around her.

"You think I would not want to know that I was spending time with the same woman who rejected me? You are telling me now that you made your choice regarding me in April and for months I suffered greatly," Darcy waved the letter in his hand as evidence. "By not telling me the truth, you took away the ability for me to make my choices with my eyes wide open. What did you hope would come from this, Miss Elizabeth?"

"What did you hope would come from what you did?" Elizabeth responded, her ire welling up. Part of her wanted to be more understanding for his plight, but once her temper rose, it was difficult to manage it. One of her faults, she knew, but she could not help herself. "Did you not stop once to think of the impact of your actions? All of them. Not simply the drink, but what you did to Jane and Mr. Bingley. Do you remember that? What about how your disapproval of my family resulted in you insulting the woman you claim to love more than I have ever been insulted in my life. And then you come back here, and I must pretend that everything is fine, and that we can have this new beginning when I knew it was only going to be a matter of time until everything came apart. You are not the only one who has suffered, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy listened quietly to her speech, his astonishment written on his face. Finally, he spoke.

"I wish I'd never returned here," Darcy said.

Elizabeth felt as though she had been struck. She blinked several times, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill, before lifting her chin up defiantly.

"If that is how you feel," she replied, "then I can only again offer my apology for the distress I caused you. Goodbye, Mr. Darcy."

With that, she bowed her head and turned, walking rapidly away.

OoO

Darcy returned to Netherfield Hall, his pace quick, causing butlers to scramble to open the doors ahead of his march through the halls

"Bingley!" Darcy yelled, heading for family wing to rouse Bingley if he was not already awake.

"Fitzwilliam, what is the matter?"

Darcy glanced behind him and saw Georgiana walking down the stairs from the guest wing of the house.

"I need to speak to Bingley," Darcy said coldly. It was uncharacteristic of him to turn his ire on Georgiana, and he attempted to send her away.

"Brother, please tell me what is distressing you," Georgiana pleaded, ignoring his request to leave him alone and following him as he continued down the hall.

"Georgiana, there is nothing you can do to help me. I need to speak to Bingley," he repeated angrily.

"Darcy, what is all this noise?" Mr. Bingley said, his head poking out of one of the parlor rooms. His jovial countenance faltered at the sight of Darcy's glare.

"Did I ever write to you expressing a desire to never see Miss Elizabeth Bennet again?" Darcy asked. Bingley frowned.

"Why, yes, but—"

"Why did you bring me here once more?" Darcy said. He did not raise his voice, and this worried Georgiana more than if he had yelled. Darcy's hands were clasped behind his back, and one had was balled into a tight fist.

"I merely asked you to accompany me here as a friend, Darcy. I had to come back for Miss Bennet, to see if I still had a chance to make amends after leaving in November, at your persuasion, need I remind you-"

Darcy paced in front of Bingley, shaking his head when Bingley spoke. "Did I explain to you in this letter, why I did not want to see her?" Bingley began to recount his letter. Darcy had mentioned an apothecary and a drink that would erase his memories of Miss Elizabeth. Bingley's tone was one of disbelief at what he clearly thought was a ridiculous story. Darcy was unsurprised it matched what he had written to Elizabeth. This, however, was news to Georgiana, who had received a simple request but no explanation in a letter from her brother. She looked between Mr. Bingley and Fitzwilliam.

"I thought you were in jest or drinking, Darcy," Bingley said. "Surely, it could not be the case that you forgot Miss Elizabeth."

"Bingley, I do not remember writing to you, yet this matches what I wrote to Miss Elizabeth. I also do not remember writing any of that, but she showed me the letter."

"And you wrote to me," Georgiana said quietly. Darcy turned to look at her, confused.

"You knew about this?" Darcy asked.

"You did not tell me anything about a drink. You merely requested we no longer speak about Miss Elizabeth."

"How could you let me come here?" Darcy said, his voice pained. He regretted asking it as soon as Georgiana's eyes began welling up with tears.

"Fitzwilliam, I did not think…I do not know…"

"Darcy, you came here of your own accord," Bingley stepped in.

"Do you not understand, Bingley? I had no idea what I was walking into. I wanted…want nothing more to do with her. I was drawn here, and to her, but I realized something was greatly amiss when I saw her at Longbourn. Bingley, I did not remember any ball, I did not remember she was Miss Bennet's sister. I did not even realize how little I remember of my time at Netherfield. I do not even know what is true and what is not anymore. Evidently, I…I took the mixture because Miss Elizabeth rejected my offer of marriage in April." Darcy said. He had never shared such personal matters to anyone in such a manner, but he felt wildly desperate to understand the situation.

Darcy's words were met with silence. Georgiana was beginning to understand.

"You were wretched after you returned from Kent," Georgiana whispered.

"Was I?" Darcy said. His hand went to his head as fragmented memories returned to him. Nights drinking in the library. Ignoring Georgiana. More of Elizabeth's words to him and his to her in the shelter of a temple as rain fell around them. Now he could hear himself speaking of the inferiority of her connections. Darcy sighed.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam. I have never seen you that way before. I suspected that something bad had happened, but you would not talk to me. When you came back from London, you were different. It was as if…as if those months never happened. You were almost like your old self. But not quite."

Bingley looked from Darcy to Georgiana several times before speaking.

"Darcy, if I had known she had refused you, I would have taken this all seriously. I mean, it is incredible, I cannot believe that something could make memories disappear like that," Bingley spoke rapidly, causing Darcy's head to ache.

"But do you not see? It did not properly work," Darcy said, his voice rising. "I remembered Oakham Mount. I was drawn here. I have been meeting her nearly every day since our return to Hertfordshire. We have had several conversations, and I've accompanied her on morning walks, and she never spoke of any of it to me until today."

"You have been seeing her? Is that why you have been in such good humor in the mornings?" Bingley asked, astounded.

Darcy ignored him and continued, "And I remember the words she said to me when she declined my offer of marriage in the most uncertain terms. All this potion did was delay what I should have accepted then. She despises me, as she should." Darcy turned to walk away, when suddenly more of her words filled his mind.

That you've separated a young couple who loved each other.

You could apologize to me, the real me, for what you said about my family, and you could reunite Mr. Bingley and Jane.

I will make everything right again, Miss Elizabeth. I must.

"Bingley," Darcy said, turning to Bingley suddenly. Even in his suffering, he had to make amends. "Miss Bennet loved you. I did not see it then because I did not know her character. I saw her regard for you while we dined yesterday, but I must be completely honest with you and tell you I judged incorrectly last fall. My incorrect judgment also played a role in myself and your sister not telling you Miss Bennet came to call in London. When Miss Elizabeth…when we spoke in Kent, one of the reasons she declined my suit was because of the pain I had caused her sister for the part I played in separating you from her. It was wrong of me, even though I thought I was acting in service of a friend, and I am sorry."

The color in Bingley's face heightened, and Darcy prepared himself for the harsh words he knew he deserved. Instead, a smile began to form at Bingley's face.

"Miss Elizabeth told you Miss Bennet loved me?"

Darcy nodded.

"Then…I was correct. I knew she loved me-you and Caroline—you made me doubt her. Even now, I see the same regard I saw then, but I thought if I misread her behavior then, how could I know she cares for me now—" Bingley was pacing in the hall, unable to bottle his energy, and his words were becoming jumbled in his excitement. "But, you say she loved me then, and she is behaving in the same manner now, which means…. What time is it? I must go to Longbourn."

Bingley was halfway down the hall when he stopped and turned back. "Darcy, forgive me. You must be feeling wretched. I should remain here. Let us have a drink. It is early, but the occasion calls for it."

Darcy shook his head at his offer, "No, Bingley. I would prefer to be alone, and I understand. I have delayed Miss Bennet's happiness long enough." Bingley looked relieved, as he did not think he could help his friend until his own heart was settled after this revelation. He took his leave of Miss Darcy and sprinted out the door. Darcy waited for Georgiana to leave him as well, but she remained at his side.

"I need to be alone, Georgiana," Darcy said and walked towards the library. Georgiana shook her head and followed him in.

"Brother, forgive me if I am overstepping, but I must say that being alone is what created this mess to begin with."

"No, I believe her rejection of me created this mess," he retorted, sitting despondently in a chair. His head was aching, and he had not the strength to hide his discomfort from his sister. He buried his face in his hands.

"You should go back to her."

"Georgiana, I cannot. I will not seek an attachment that is founded on such deceit."

"Is that what you believe? Truly?" Georgiana said, kneeling beside him. She rested a hand on his knee.

"Yes. No. I do not know what to believe. I feel as though this past week has been completely pretend…if she had only told me…"

"Would you have believed her? What if you had not remembered? Or worse, what if you were angry at her?" Georgiana said.

"I believe I have a right to be angry. The life I am living is not what I thought it was," Darcy said into his hands.

"I can only speak for my own behavior. You told me not to speak of Miss Elizabeth, so I did not. Do you fault me for my behavior as you fault her?"

Darcy lifted his head of his hands to look at Georgiana. He took her hand into both of his. "No, Georgie. I do not fault you," he sighed as he let go and reclined into the back of the chair.

"I feel as though I have no command of the situation, Georgie. I am unaccustomed to this. It frightens me that I could be drawn here without full knowledge as to why and then to find this out…It is as if I have had no say in any of this."

"When you return from your morning walks, you are content. I have never seen you as light as you have been. I thought it was the country air doing wonders for your health. If spending time with Miss Elizabeth, when you were only beginning to know her again, is the cause of it, then I do not think the time with her has been false or misspent. When you were visiting here before, you wrote of Miss Elizabeth," Georgiana added, smiling. Darcy looked at her, curious.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam. You wrote of her often. All wonderful things about her intelligence and wit and kindness in tending to Miss Bennet while she was ill. It was not accident that brought you back here. Something called for you to return, and you chose to return. To find her. And you have chosen to spend time with her, how many times? I think you have been more in command of the situation than you believe," Georgiana patted his knee reassuringly one final time before standing to leave.

"Georgiana?" Darcy called when she reached the door.

"Yes, brother?"

"Why did you never speak to me about the letter I gave you?"

"Because I love you, Fitzwilliam," Georgiana replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I thought you would know what was best for you. It may have been an error, and it would have been better to speak directly with you, but I love you far too much to intentionally cause you distress. I imagine someone else may have been of a similar mind with similar reasons," Georgiana said pointedly.

Darcy managed a small smile at her, wondering when his younger sister had become so wise, and she left the library, closing the door behind her. Her words certainly gave him many things to consider, not the least of which was that he may have let his anger and confusion get the better of him when speaking to Elizabeth earlier. He suddenly regretted the words he had spoken in anger.

Darcy groaned. Why had he made everything difficult? Elizabeth had not been deceitful. She had been kind, gentle, and indulgent of him since his return to Hertfordshire, even after the things he had said to her. Even after he had done something so impossibly reckless as trying to erase her from his memories. The more he remembered of their time together, even his dreadful proposal, the more he felt a fog lift and beneath it was his love and devotion to her.

There was nothing worse than living without Elizabeth Bennet in his life, of this he was now certain. He thought of her turning and walking away from him this morning. Had he finally lost her?

Author's Note: One more chapter to go! Looking forward to reading your reactions!