As Elizabeth had hoped, she was soon proclaimed well enough to resume to her normal life and was permitted to return to her flat without accruing any more guilt trips than was usual for her family.

Kindly as her father and stepmother's interference had been meant, it was beyond a relief to regain her privacy and to live in a place that almost never heard the sorts of screeching effusions that were the common way of life at the Bennet household.

And yet, relieved as she was to be back at her own home, she also felt oddly at loose ends. Missing an entire week of work was only part of it, albeit a large part. Other changes had crept in without her quite realizing it, and Elizabeth found she was having some difficulty in making the adjustment.

For one thing, Jane was gone more often than not these days, her relationship with Bingley having progressed even beyond where they had been before he had broken things off with her. It seemed that the time they had spent apart had made them both so miserable that they were both more willing to make themselves vulnerable to the other person if it meant keeping anything similar from happening again.

In other words, they were deeply, sincerely, sickeningly in love. So much so that when Bingley came over the first night of Elizabeth's return, she had felt almost like an intruder in her own home, the pair of them were so involved with each other. It wasn't even that they were making overt displays of affection so much as it was the little touches here and the shared, secret smiles there. Jane would soon be gone, Elizabeth realized, and though she had thought so before, it was far more real now.

The rest of her unsettled state, she thought she could safely blame on Mr. Darcy. Though he had not actually told her very much when they had spoken at her parents' home, it had been enough to get her mind working on the puzzle he had presented. If Darcy and Wickham had a past that went well beyond the bare facts each had given her, then who was really at fault for the falling out between them?

There had been truth in Wickham's looks when he had shared his information with her - but a guileless countenance could hide all manner of secrets. Darcy had certainly been less forthcoming, but it didn't then follow that he was any less truthful for all his reticence. If anything, it had seemed that he was protecting someone else by not exposing whatever Wickham's sins might have been.

Ultimately, did Wickham's story even really matter? It had seemed important when it served to corroborate the details of her own first encounters with Darcy, so as to have something to justify her hatred of him. That she had wanted that justification at all now seemed telling, as though she had known all along that she was being somewhat less than fair in persisting in thinking the absolute worst of Darcy even when he had begun to prove he was not entirely bad.

Still, it would be easier to know which of the two men was more correct in his assessment of the other. According to Wickham, Darcy was proud, controlling and obsessed with money. According to Darcy, Wickham had demonstrated a vicious want of principles. Once, Elizabeth would not have given the slightest bit of consideration to Darcy's side of things, blinded as she would have been by her own anger. Now, she could only wonder endlessly and fruitlessly whether or not Darcy's warning about Wickham was one that she should heed.

On the third morning after the return to her normal life, Elizabeth found that she could not altogether repress the sense of expectation that seemed to hang over the day. Darcy had waited three days between her being installed in her parents' home and coming to visit her, so if he had done anything to keep track of her whereabouts via Mr. Bingley's knowledge and if he followed the same pattern, he would visit today.

It was a good day for it, all in all, she had decided upon awakening. It was the weekend and Jane had set aside nearly the whole day to go shopping with Bingley. That Bingley had been the one to have instigated the excursion only made that man seem all the more perfect for Jane. If he had the patience for it, never mind the enthusiasm he seemed to show, then it was one activity that Elizabeth used to share with her sister that she was more than happy to relinquish.

Shopping was, on the whole, not an exercise that she greatly favored and she had never been able to gracefully indulge Jane's penchant for making it an all-day affair when it was usually something that could have been handled in the space of a few hours.

So it was that Elizabeth was quite alone, pulled up to the big window and nestled in her favorite chair with a cup of tea and the latest sheaf of papers from Jane's manuscript in progress, when a knock came at the door.

Her heart gave a wild leap, though she had been more than half expecting the sound for more than an hour now, and she came to her feet, carefully setting aside both her cup and the manuscript. Smoothing her hands over her hair and clothes, Elizabeth made her way to the door and swung it open, her smile of welcome faltering on her lips when the visitor proved not to be Darcy but was instead Caroline Bingley.

"Miss Bingley," Elizabeth greeted her stupidly, staring for a long moment before collecting herself enough to step back and gesture with her free hand into the room behind her. "Do come in. Although if you are here to see your brother or Jane, they are out."

"No, I am here to see you." Caroline was as supercilious as she had ever been as she stepped stiffly into the flat, looking around with an expression that seemed to suggest she was nervous about something.

Don't worry, dear Caroline, Elizabeth thought, pasting an insincere smile on her face as she invited the other woman to sit and offered her some tea. Scarcity isn't catching.

"No, thank you," Caroline declined both the tea and the offer to be seated. "I haven't got much time, but I wished to stop in and see how you were doing. I trust you are much recovered."

"As you see," Elizabeth replied, though the other woman hardly paused for a reply to her statement.

"Yes, well, such a kerfuffle it was when that man appeared at the door and said there had been an accident," Caroline began, launching into a rather lengthy and convoluted recitation of the night's events.

Elizabeth kept her face neutral as she half-listened to the other woman's monologue, knowing that the actual point of this visit would eventually be revealed. There was certainly no reason for Elizabeth to believe that Caroline cared even a whit about her health, but neither could she immediately determine what scheme might have seemed important enough to Caroline Bingley to bring her to what was clearly the wrong side of town.

Elizabeth couldn't honestly say that she knew Caroline well enough to guess with any sort of accuracy as to what she intended to say but her immediate supposition was that it would be something about Jane and Charles' relationship. Caroline's distaste for all things Bennet had been marked enough at the family dinner she had invaded that it would come as no surprise to Elizabeth to hear that Caroline was opposed to the idea of there being any sort of permanent union between the families.

"And of course it was impossible to sleep with them waking you up every other minute," Caroline exclaimed, jarring Elizabeth out of her thoughts. "But naturally, I am just so pleased that you are well. Tell me, has Mr. Darcy been to visit you?"

And there it is, Elizabeth thought cynically. She's here to stake some sort of claim on Darcy.

"He hasn't." Elizabeth paused long enough to enjoy the triumphant smirk that Caroline didn't even seem to try to repress before deigning to elucidate further. "At least, not since I got back home from my parents' house."

"Oh," Caroline seemed nonplussed but recovered quickly. "Well, Mr. Darcy is so kind, as you have no doubt witnessed. I daresay he doesn't quite seem to let differences in social rank stand between him and other people the way many people of his station do."

"His station?" Elizabeth echoed. Was she serious? "I didn't realize Darcy was nobility."

"Nobility!" Caroline cried. "Don't be ridiculous. Of course that's not what I meant. I only meant that he is a powerful and wealthy man and you are, of course, a mere employee. Surely you can see the disparity that exists."

"Have you ever held a job, Miss Bingley?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, I have not." The other woman sounded proud of her admission.

"Well, then, I guess you wouldn't know from experience, but employees aren't actually required to treat their employers with reverence. I am grateful for my income, yes, but it doesn't then follow that I must abase myself and grovel at Darcy's feet.

"Besides, I would say that my relationship with Mr. Darcy is on a rather more personal level than it is a professional one. In fact, the night we found ourselves at your house, we were enjoying each others' company, and I can assure you that was not business-related."

The words were out almost without thought, spoken rapidly and in a firm tone that seemed to shock Caroline, who gaped unbecomingly for a moment before visibly collecting herself and sniffing in disdain. "I was just concerned about you, dear Eliza. I didn't want you to get the wrong idea about William and misconstrue his kindness towards subordinates as being something else.

"Now, if you will excuse me, I am late for an appointment with, err, my taxidermist."

"Your taxidermist?" Elizabeth couldn't help the incredulous question from popping out of her mouth. "What helpless creature are you having stuffed and mounted?"

"What are you speaking of?" Caroline snapped. "Skin like mine doesn't happen by accident, you know."

And had Caroline been anyone else, or even had she been herself but a more decent and kind version, Elizabeth might have corrected her mistake. As it was, thoroughly irritated at the other woman's officious meddling and sneering condescension, Elizabeth merely smiled and nodded.

"I won't keep you then. Thank you ever so much for all your concern for my well-being."

It seemed the sarcasm was not lost on Miss Bingley for she let out a most unladylike huff and stalked rudely past Elizabeth to the door. "I see I cannot aid you in the manner I had hoped," was her parting shot. "Though now I am convinced you did not deserve my kindly attempt at interference."

Slamming the door behind her, Caroline was gone.

For several long moments, Elizabeth could only gaze in bemusement at the closed portal, replaying the brief visit in her mind. At length, she shook herself and was just moving to regain her place by the window with Jane's manuscript when another knock came at the door.

Pausing, Elizabeth eyed the door speculatively before reluctantly moving to open it. If it had been Caroline standing there again, she was fully prepared to simply tell the other woman to go away.

But it was not Caroline at all. It was Mr. Darcy.

Darcy approached Elizabeth's flat, feeling a sense of excitement wash over him at the prospect of seeing her. It had been more difficult than he had anticipated, keeping himself from visiting her every day if only to lay eyes on her and ascertain for himself that she continued to improve in health and well-being. But now it had been an appropriate amount of time since he had last visited her and no social strictures could keep him from seeking her out at her own home. He hoped that this visit would have fewer surprises than the last one had, and fewer general annoyances.

So when he caught sight of one of Bingley's carriages parked outside the building, Darcy was disappointed at first. He supposed it wasn't unreasonable that Bingley would choose to spend his free time with the woman he loved, but he couldn't help but think that the presence of Jane and Bingley would put something of a damper on the conversation he hoped to have with Elizabeth.

As though in response to the thought, the door to the building swung forcefully open just then and Darcy froze in surprise at the sight of Caroline Bingley. She walked in a hurried manner, clutching her purse tightly to her chest but fixing her eyes on her carriage in a most determined manner, as though her very life depended on her getting safely from the building to her conveyance.

Breathing a quiet prayer of thanks that she hadn't seen him, Darcy remained where he was until Caroline had entered the coach and it had pulled away from the curb and into the street.

What Miss Bingley might have been about to visit Miss Marchrend and Miss Bennet's flat, Darcy could not begin to guess. Perhaps it was some errand undertaken for Charles, although the likelihood of Caroline performing any service for another person was exceedingly slim.

Dismissing the matter from his mind, Darcy climbed the stairs until he came at last to Elizabeth's door where he rubbed suddenly moist palms nervously over his coat before he knocked gently and then waited the short amount of time it took for his summons to be answered.

Elizabeth's expression was wary as she opened the door but it lightened instantly upon seeing him standing there, a fact which cheered him considerably.

"Thank God you're not Miss Bingley again," she blurted by way of greeting and then flushed slightly. "I'm sorry. That was rather rude of me."

"No more rude than my intentionally not catching her attention when I saw her below," Darcy replied, conspiratorially. "She seemed to be in something of a hurry."

Elizabeth smiled and Darcy felt his breath catch at the sight of it. He had so rarely seen a genuine smile from this woman since he seemed to have a knack for antagonizing her and most of her politeness had been rather understandably frosty as a result. Seeing a warm, delighted smile on her lips only strengthened his resolve that he should do everything in his power to be the man who made her smile in precisely that fashion for every day of the rest of their lives.

"She had a very important appointment to get to," Elizabeth replied, and there seemed to be a secret dancing in her lovely eyes. "But please, come in! Would you like some tea or coffee?"

"Coffee sounds very nice, if it isn't too much trouble," Darcy replied, stepping fully into the flat and pushing the door closed behind him.

"No trouble at all," Elizabeth assured him. "I was just about to make myself a cup."

On the words, she disappeared through an open doorway into what Darcy assumed was the kitchen. He followed slowly, leaning against the wall as he watched her deftly move about the small space, setting a kettle on the stovetop and opening a cabinet to retrieve a pair of smooth, blue mugs.

"How do you take your coffee?" she inquired, looking at him over her shoulder as she rummaged through another cabinet.

"Black," he replied simply. "Only a small amount of sugar, or none at all."

She nodded as though she had somehow expected him to answer precisely as he had and he watched her for a moment longer before offering to help.

"I've got it," Elizabeth waved the offer away, coming at last to a stop and leaning her hip against the counter next to the stove. "Just waiting for the water to boil now. We could sit. Here or in the living room."

"If you like," Darcy replied affably. "How's the head?"

She flashed another smile at him as she pushed off from the counter and moved to the small kitchen table where she pulled out a chair but did not immediately sit. "Much better. I am headache-free. If the bruising would go away, I'd be quite able to go out in public and not run the risk of frightening small children."

Darcy had drifted towards the table as she spoke and came to stop near enough to her that he was quite easily able to give into the impulse to reach out a hand and gently brush her hair back from her temple. All signs of swelling were gone and the riot of ugly colors had faded into more subdued shades of yellow and purple.

She shivered under his touch and Darcy pulled his hand back swiftly, apologizing briefly for taking the liberty. "But you are looking much recovered, I think," he added, smiling down on her. "I am certain you could not scare even the most fearful child if you tried."

Elizabeth looked away, though that might have only been to cast a glance at the kettle on the stove. When it showed no signs of boiling, she took the chair she had pulled out, looking expectantly at Darcy as he lowered himself into the chair opposite her.

"Jane and Mr. Bingley are out shopping," she informed him, seeming to speak at random just to have something to fill the short silence between them. "I feel sorry for poor Mr. Bingley. I wonder if he knew what he was getting himself into. Jane can shop for hours and never get tired of it."

"They may be well matched in that regard," Darcy replied, hiding his own pleasure at the knowledge that he might have more time alone with Elizabeth than he had thought possible. "Charles can browse displays for hours, it seems, and never grow weary of looking. With the holidays so close upon us, I imagine he'll need even more time than usual in order to finish buying all his gifts."

"You say that with a certain amount of satisfaction," she teased. "Could it be that you have already finished making your own purchases?"

He smiled back at her, pleased with the light friendliness of their conversation and with the way it seemed she could understand him so well. "In fact, I have finished. I go tomorrow to pick up one final item for Georgiana, my sister, but everything else is finalized."

Including, he added mentally, a gift for you, my lovely Elizabeth. That he would not soon be able to gift her with the ring he had purchased was of little consequence. At least it seemed he was finally on the right path with her and then he would have an entire lifetime of opportunity to spoil and indulge her as he wanted.

With some effort, he brought his mind away from the happy visions such a thought inspired to attend to what Elizabeth was saying to him now. "I had thought I was finished, but I feel that perhaps I should get something for Mr. Bingley," she was musing. "But I haven't any idea what to get and Jane is no help. I was thinking something useful, like a scarf."

"I believe I may safely assure you that you could get Charles anything and he would be most grateful, even under normal circumstances."

Elizabeth arched a brow at him. "But these present circumstances are somehow not normal? I don't understand your meaning."

Darcy chuckled. "I believe my friend is still a bit wary of you, thinking he hasn't got your blessing where his relationship with your sister is concerned. Any friendly gesture would go a long way towards assuring him that you welcome the match."

Elizabeth seemed surprised by this revelation and opened her mouth to speak but was forestalled by the kettle beginning to whistle out its alarm of being done. Rising gracefully from the table, she moved across the kitchen to snatch the kettle from the flames of the gas burner and pour the hot water over the coffee grounds she had prepared earlier in the glass press.

They were silent as she finished making the coffee, she seeming to somehow know instinctively that he really did prefer just a little sugar in his beverage and she handed him his mug with a raised brow.

"Shall we take this to the other room? The furniture is far more comfortable."

Nodding his assent, he rose and pushed his chair back into place at the table before following her back into the living room. She seemed to have already claimed her seat, so he settled into the one opposite, smiling at the memory of the last armchair he had taken in her presence and how mortified he had been in that moment.

"I wasn't aware Mr. Bingley cared so much for my good opinion," Elizabeth admitted, resuming their prior conversation once they were both settled. "Or that he had any notion that he didn't have it."

"Well," Darcy coughed, wondering whether his friend would be upset at the disclosure he was about to make, should he ever hear of it, "he said something to me once about how expressive your eyes were. I believe that when he came to make amends to Jane he felt very put on his guard."

To his surprise, Elizabeth gave a mellifluous laugh. "Good. I admit I was terribly upset with him then. Well, and with you, as you know. I can be quite protective of the ones I love."

"And there we have something in common," Darcy returned, seeing an opportunity. "For I am much the same. Although, unlike you, I think I more often come off as high-handed or foolish, rather than fierce."

She gave him a considering look. "High-handed? Perhaps. But foolish? I cannot credit it."

"There have been times," he assured her, voice dry. He was thinking of that night he had risen from his sickbed and had gone searching through the night for her, unable to rest until he knew she was safe. How foolish he must have appeared to her then.

And how high-handed he must have appeared any number of other times. Not for the first time, it occurred to Darcy that he might be able to go about this business of courting Elizabeth much more easily if he simply told her of his Second Sight. He had, in fact, been thinking much on the possibility as of late, but there was still something holding him back from taking the final plunge.

Gathering his courage all at once, Darcy leaned forward, holding her dark, dancing eyes with his own steady gaze.

"I hope you will not think me foolish now, in fact, but Elizabeth -" he watched closely as he used her Christian name, relieved when she didn't so much as bat an eyelash but instead kept an open, expectant expression on her face "- I have been waiting for some time for a good opportunity to ask you this and, well..." Darcy fumbled awkwardly for a moment. "That is, would you do me the very great honor of accompanying me out for an evening some time?"

Though he himself felt surprisingly shaky, Darcy did his best to hold her gaze without wavering.

She blinked, but did not immediately answer.

Darcy had just enough time to wonder whether he had misread her whole demeanour, decide that he had and curse himself for an idiot before Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak.

"You want to go out with me?" Her voice seemed almost full of wonder.

Nodding once, firmly, Darcy replied, "Very much."

Her smile started slow but soon bloomed into a wide, genuine grin. "I would enjoy that," she acquiesced. "Very much."

Feeling as though he had just run some great race and had somehow managed to cross the finish line first, Darcy sat back with a smile of his own. She had agreed! It was the true beginning of his chance to woo her properly.

Although, never one to waste a perfectly good opportunity and very mindful of the fact that he could conceivably spend the better part of the day with Elizabeth now, Darcy quickly settled the details of their forthcoming rendezvous before abandoning himself to what would prove to be nearly three hours of friendly conversation before he could at last persuade himself to leave.

A/N: Sorry! Sorry! I know it's been a long while since I last posted. Mea culpa and all that jazz.

The word challenge was fun on this chapter and I was able to get most of the suggestions worked in pretty easily. Or, at least, a suggestion from most people (some of y'all had multiple words and I learned at least one new word as a result of this exercise which is always a fun thing).

We shall see if I can't figure a way to get 'penultimate' and 'recidivism' worked in before the end of this here story, hmm? In the meantime, *clap* *clap* *clap* to the offerers of those words. I couldn't do it gracefully. Not this time.

Speaking of the end of the story, we are getting close. Depending on how well my characters behave (which tends to be not very), I'd say we have only 3 or 4 more to go, and then possibly an alternate ending (I'm fighting with my beta over this matter) and maaaaybe an epilogue. I'm excited and sad all at once, but I think it'll be good to hopefully put this thing to bed sometime before I die.

How do you feel about endings? As always, I love hearing your thoughts.