To answer a question put after the last chapter - Lizzy was upset with Darcy because he again criticised her family and after the last two times she's become so sensitive to his critical words she misses the near nice ones now.

And now, one of the moments you've been waiting for...

When you've finished this chapter and while you wait for the next, why not check out the other story I have posted. It's a P&P / Christmas Carol mashup and was great fun to write (so much so, this one took a hiatus when the new story took a hold of me and I just had to write it). It's complete, so no waiting for the end either. It's called Darcy's Christmas Carol.

Mr Darcy spotted Elizabeth fleeing the house from Bingley's study window as he stood gazing out. He was most reluctant to return to the parlour and the tedious company of Mr Collins and Miss Bingley. Elizabeth was alone and heading, at speed, for the woods and for a moment he hesitated.

He thought about her behaviour earlier when they were all gathered together. She had seemed determined to draw Mr Collins' attention to herself and away from her sister. Did she truly favour the man? Surely not. The man was a fool and she was worthy of someone who was not. Someone who would appreciate her. Someone like… himself.

Before he realised his intentions, he was following in her footsteps.

Mr Darcy waited for her response, the half-smile on his face proclaiming his expectations of a positive response.

'Come now, Mr Darcy. You cannot possibly be serious. I knew full well what you think of my family and, most especially, myself, but for you to expound those thoughts to me at this time is beyond a joke. I know not what you are attempting but I do not find it amusing. I must insist you leave off now and pursue it no further.' Elizabeth lifted her shoulders and huffed. 'You would be well served in your jest indeed, were I to accept.'

His eyes darkened. 'It was no joke, Madam.'

Elizabeth's jaw fell briefly, before she recovered from the shock. 'You were serious? Did you really expect me to accept?'

The smile fell from his face, and a small wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. 'Well… I …'

'You did.' She made another small huffing sound. 'You really did… You insult me and all those I love yet still expected me to accept your proposal?' She stared at him in disbelief.

'I was simply being honest about my reservations.'

'Your reservations? Well then, let me be honest with you. No. My answer is no. You are tolerable I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me.' She paused, wondering if he would recognise the words and remember his insult of her at the Meryton Assembly where they first met. As his face flushed a dark red at her words, he obviously did. She was gratified and inwardly nodded before continuing. 'Besides, I have no desire to be labelled a fortune hunter, as I expect you would assume of anyone you consider coming from a lower status than your own.'

Mr Darcy's face paled. 'Really? Given your eager interest in Mr Collins, I could only assume you had set your sights on him, as heir to Longbourn. That much seems obvious, at least. Are you telling me you would prefer marriage to that… oaf?' he ground out.

She almost shuddered. 'Indeed no. You mistake my intentions. No doubt intentionally. I tolerate Mr Collins for-' She broke off and glared at him, almost goaded into speaking of something she should not. Changing the subject, she continued, gesturing at him with an open hand. 'You stand there, on your lofty pedestal, looking down on everyone I know and love, with your selfish disdain for their feelings. Well, I must inform you that you do not meet my expectations of a desirable marriage partner. I am persuaded that nothing more than the very deepest love will entice me into matrimony, so I know for certain I could not be happy with you.' She paused, chest heaving, before continuing in a milder tone. 'I have no doubt your recovery from this reversal will be swift. Your reservations will soon overcome any gentler feelings you might have thought you had for me. I will now return to my sister, she will be wondering where I have gone.' The words said, she swivelled on her heel and marched toward the house.

He stood there, unable to believe what had happened. That Elizabeth had actually rejected him. Was she a simpleton? He turned and walked away across the garden, his mind racing. How could this have happened.

He had not planned to propose. Indeed, it was almost the last thing on his mind when he had followed her into the woods. Having lost track of her in the trees, he stood quietly, listening. Eventually hearing the snaps of branches underfoot coming from further along the path he'd encountered, he followed the sounds and came across Miss Elizabeth. She was walking a path, kicking through newly fallen leaves and looking skyward with a smile. Seeing her, strolling through the autumn colours had thrown him off balance. She appeared as a creature of nature, clad in autumnal colours and blending in with the colours of nature. He imagined her wandering the woods of Pemberley and like a blow to the stomach, he realised he had to have her. She would fit in perfectly at Pemberley and was exactly the woman he needed in his life.

Except that she disagreed.

He went through his speech again in his mind. Where had he gone wrong? He had started well, surely?

In vain I have struggled. It will not do. I must tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

She had blushed at this start and looked adorably confused. Surely this was encouragement enough to continue.

He had then paced back and forth as she watched, seated on a fallen tree trunk, while he explained how he had struggled to overcome his personal objections about connecting himself to her family, her mother and younger sisters especially. He had seen her blush with shame on occasion because of their uncouth behaviour, so obviously she was not unaware of how objectionable their actions were.

There were not just personal objections to surmount, but also those that would come from his family and friends. They would expect a more favourable connection than this.

Indeed, I cannot believe, as a rational man, I am considering this alliance myself.

His step faltered and he ran his hands through his hair, inwardly cringing. Maybe that part could have been worded better. But surely the end was well enough spoken?

But despite all my reservations and struggles… my feelings cannot be suppressed. All rational argument to the contrary has been overwhelmed and I must beg your acceptance of my hand. Would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?

He found himself beside a garden bench, on which he sat, dropping his head into his hands. It now sounded pompous, even to his own ears. Indeed, taking the entirety into account, along with his insult to her that she had obviously overheard at the Assembly, would she ever speak to him again? And that comment about fortune hunters… Why bring that up? The only time he'd mentioned his thoughts on that had been to Colonel Fitzwilliam, during their ride into Meryton. He stiffened. Knowing her love of walking, surely, she had not also overheard that…? He pulled at his hair, disarranging it beyond all aid.

How can this be repaired? Could it be repaired?

Elizabeth fled to the house in search of her sister. The orangery was now empty. When asked, a footman informed her that Miss Bingley and Mr Collins were in the drawing room, and she withdrew with a shudder at the thought of their company. Eventually she found Jane alone in the morning room, quietly working on her embroidery and so Elizabeth seated herself by her sister and pretended to read her book while her mind wandered back over the disastrous proposal.

How dared he insult her so! He thought she was plain, only tolerable, by his own words, and hadn't given any indication he even liked her. The whole thing was simply incomprehensible. And he even thought her to be chasing Mr Collins for position. Her face felt hot. How could she ever face him again with equanimity?

After a half-hour or so of her soul-searching, with no immediate answers coming to mind, Mr Bingley entered the room. He greeted them and, after her returned greeting and a shy smile of welcome from Jane, sat on the opposite sofa. To Elizabeth's eye, he seemed different to his usual jovial self. Temporarily distracted from her own troubles, she watched in fascination as he stood and paced about the room, stopping his perambulations to peer out of the window, then stooping to add another log to the fire. Having exhausted all available opportunities within the room for distraction, he then resumed his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs and fidgeting with his fingers.

Elizabeth made several attempts at conversation, all of which petered out after a single response. As she peeped at him through her eyelashes she realised he was gazing fixedly at Jane, who was blushing slightly and keeping her eyes on her work. Suspicion grew that he wanted to speak with her sister without an audience. Well she could certainly help with that, and if Miss Bingley or Mr Darcy wanted to interfere, then maybe it would soon be too late.

Elizabeth put her book aside and stood, saying, 'I need to retrieve my needlework from my room. Pray excuse me, I will return shortly.'

Mr Bingley sprang to his feet, his face suddenly alight with a huge smile. As she left the room, Elizabeth shot a quick look over her shoulder, noticing that Mr Bingley had wasted no time in resuming a seat, this time on the sofa next to Jane. Elizabeth's eyebrows rose and she pulled the door partially closed to give them a little privacy, then lightly sprang up the stairs to her room. She waited there impatiently for a few minutes, a smile playing about her lips, before returning downstairs, work bag in hand.

Hesitating outside the door for a moment, and hearing nothing but hushed voices, she called out in warning, 'Jane, do you…' then pushed the door further open.

Her sister's face was radiant, her cheeks aglow and Mr Bingley was holding her hand, the broadest smile she had ever seen on his face thus far gracing his face.

'Oh, I do beg your pardon,' Elizabeth said, turning back to the door. 'I can come back…'

'No, no. Do come in. I insist!' Mr Bingley stood and moved aside, 'I'm sure you are anxious to re-join your sister. I must leave now, in any case.' He turned back to Jane and bowed over her hand before making a small bow to Elizabeth and leaving the room.

'Well?'

'Oh Lizzy! 'tis too much. I do not deserve to be so happy!' Jane's face was wreathed in smiles, her cheeks pink with joy. 'He loves me. He says the thought of Mr Collins attentions to me today, and that he might beat him to my hand was a great incentive. He is gone to my father, even now. Oh, he loves me!'

Elizabeth dropped to the sofa and threw her arms around her sister, rocking side to side as they laughed out their joy. 'Dearest Jane, you, out of all of us, deserve every minute of the happiness that is to come.' As she hugged her sister, her thoughts turned to the unexpectedness of them both receiving proposals on the same day, and the totally opposite emotions and results of each.