Mr. Gardner ushered in the strange gentleman-for he could note that he was a gentleman by his dress and the uprightness of his figure-who had escorted his niece home. The gentleman bowed at the waist, and introduced himself.

"Sir? My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy, of Pemberley, and if it is not too much of an inconvenience I would have an audience with you and Miss Elizabeth's other guardian, Mr. Phillips."

Mr. Gardner shot a confused look at his niece, who returned his without a hint of what she was thinking, nor feeling. What on earth could a man of such stature have to do with his niece? Both of his sisters-Fanny and Alice-had spent the last few morning retelling their woes to his wife, who gleaned out the necessary information to relay to him. It gave him a clearer picture, gleaned from information that his niece had not, or did not wish to tell him.

To that end, he was very familiar with the name "Fitzwilliam Darcy", for Alice had called him the most horrid, disobliging man who had ever come to Meryton, so unlike his closest friend, the amiable Charles Bingley-who had taken a fancy to Jane, and had she not been thus injured, they should be posting wedding banns by now, indeed! Mr. Darcy danced but rarely, and generally only members of his own party, although, now that he was thinking upon the subject, he recalled that he had been informed that Mr. Darcy had danced with Elizabeth twice.

He was now also recalling that Mr. Darcy was known throughout Meryton not only for his arrogance and pride, but for his betrayal to his father's memory. Mrs. Phillips had told his wife of a Mr. Wickham, a man who had grown up with Mr. Darcy, and was loved by Mr. Darcy's father-only to be cast away, and cheated of his inheritance when Mr. Darcy's father died after a long illness. The poor, young gentleman, now an officer in the militia was determined to make his own way without causing any more pain to the memory of Mr. Darcy's father, so he had graciously forgiven Mr. Darcy, but the rest of the town had no!-Mrs. Phillips declared.

Mr. Gardner returned the gentleman's bow, and answer him, "Of course, Mr. Darcy. Right this way." Leading him into his brother in law's study, he gave another bow and excused himself to collect his brother in law. A few minutes later, they returned and situated themselves.

"Port?" Mr. Gardner asked, as he poured himself a small glass. Mr. Darcy's eyes shifted for a moment, before he acquiesced with a nod of his head.

"What service may we perform for you, Mr. Darcy? I am at a loss as to how we should have any mutual business, having never been introduced before this very moment." Mr. Gardner asked, curious as to whether or not he would be witness to a display of the now infamous Darcy pride and arrogance.

Mr. Darcy's reply was not a reply that he could immediately forget, nor did he comprehend what he was hearing. He must have misunderstood his reply.

"Excuse me, Mr. Darcy. Would you repeat what you just said?"

"Of course, sir. I am here to request your permission to marry Miss Elizabeth. I have proposed, and she has accepted."

Mr. Darcy finished his port with a careless swallow, and sat back in his seat to await their reply. Mr. Gardner and Mr. Phillips looked askance at each other. Although Elizabeth had not technically been proposed to, she had refused an offer from Mr. Collins less than a week ago! And now she apparently had accepted a man who was known as proud, rude, and arrogant. A man who was used to getting what he wanted.

Mr. Gardner and Mr. Phillips held a silent conversation for a few moments, before both nodding in agreement, and Mr. Gardner turned to Mr. Darcy,

"If you would excuse us for a moment, Mr. Darcy. We should like to speak with our niece, and then we shall return with your answer."

Mr. Darcy inclined his head in agreement.

"Of course, sir. I am at your convenience."

"Of course, thank you sir. We shall return in a few minutes." Both men left the study, carefully closing the door behind them, before they went to look for their niece-who was now eating in the parlour with her sisters and mother.

Mr. Gardner cleared his throat, not wishing to announce the business he concerning Elizabeth, in front of his grieving Fanny, for he would give Elizabeth a way out if she should wish to take it. God knew what state of mind she was in, and it was his fault. He should have taken his nieces, at the very least when he had realized the character of both the Mr. Collins, but he had not, and he would regret it to his dying day.

"Lizzie, would you join myself and your uncle for a few minutes? We have a matter to speak of."

He watched as his niece, the youngest one, look from himself to Elizabeth, confusion and interest evident in her dark eyes. Elizabeth smiled at her, and excused herself from the assembled party. She followed him and Mr. Phillips into another, empty parlour.

"Elizabeth, I have a Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in my study, asking for your hand in marriage." Mr. Phillips started. "Am I to understand that you have accepted him, of your own free will."

Elizabeth's eyes flashed, "Of course, Uncle. He is nothing like Mr. Collins!" she said, rather defensively, her tone brusque and unyielding. Immediately she chastened herself.

"I do apologize, Uncle Phillips. It was a surprise. Mr. Darcy proposed this morning. I do believe that it was due to the fact that we should be leaving for London soon."

"And you wish to marry him?" Mr. Gardner wanted to know. "Truly? I have not heard good things about this man, niece."

Elizabeth regarded her uncle with a cool gaze.

"Uncle, I am not permitted to speak to you openly of Mr. Darcy's affairs, however I suggest that you should question him directly. I have settled all of my concerns with Mr. Darcy directly, and am satisfied. But uncle-" here her voice lowered, "he truly is a good man, and he is one of the few, along with Mr. Bingley, who have treated us, especially Jane with respect."

Mr. Gardner's eyes widened in surprise, as he recalled his first meeting with the elder, now deceased Mr. Collins, and his reaction to his niece's injury.

"I do not deny, uncle, that his proposal comes at a fortuitous time," here, she wavered slightly, not wishing to alarm her uncles, "but his proposal came as a surprise. A happy surprise."

"And you are sure, Elizabeth?" Mr. Gardner scrutinized her carefully, watching her expression for any minute changes.

"I am sure, uncle." she responded confidently.

"Then we shall grant him permission, niece."

"Thank you uncle." Mr. Gardner and Mr. Phillips embraced Elizabeth one last time, before returning to the study, where Mr. Darcy sat, still as ramrod straight as before they had left.

"Well, Mr. Darcy, we have satisfactorily ascertained our niece's acceptance of your proposal, however, before we grant you permission to marry her, we have a few questions concerning a Mr. Wickham, and other matters."

At that, Mr. Darcy's entire body tightened further, although he relaxed moments later, slightly.

"Of course, sir." he said in a strained voice. "What would you like to know?"

"Everything."

"Are you surprised, aunt?" Elizabeth asked, a few hours later as they took tea. It was just her and her aunt, who had requested a private audience with her. Beyond informing Jane of her engagement, Elizabeth and her uncles had elected to not inform the rest of the family about their engagement before they left for Gracechurch street in two days.

This meant, of course, that Mr. Darcy could not pay a call to her before they left, but Elizabeth found that she did not mind. Or, rather she did not wish for the attention it would cause if he should call again. There were most likely quite a few whispers going around as to why she had been escorted back to her home on the arm of Mr. Darcy, but she was hoping that they would disregard it, when they saw that he had paid her no special attention afterwards, and that they would be departing soon thereafter. Her Aunt Phillips had already done her duty in informing the assorted callers that the Bennets should be leaving very shortly, at the end of the week, to live with their uncle in London.

Her Aunt Gardner smiled gently at her, behind her tea.

"I was surprised, Lizzie, but I realized that I have hardly known you until now." she said.

"I hardly know myself, aunt." Elizabeth responded, more airily than she felt, her mind drifting to where Mr. Darcy had found her, on the road to Longbourn. If he had been but a few minutes earlier or later, they would have missed each other entirely, and she should be sitting across her aunt for a very different sort of reason.

"Lizzie, I was simply shocked, as you were, I imagine." Mrs. Gardner took Elizabeth's hand within hers. "Although, your sister has informed me that Mr. Darcy, despite the insulting remark he made after your first meeting, has always acted very kindly towards the both of you, even apologizing for the faults of others." she said, referring to the disastrous dinner, where Miss Bingley and Mr. Collins had both insulted and denigrated her younger sisters.

Elizabeth smiled distantly. "Yes, aunt. We have had a rather tumultuous beginning, but Mr. Darcy has always been very kind to me and Jane."

Silenced reigned, as both ladies sipped their tea absentmindedly, both wishing to speak, yet neither knowing which subject to broach next.

"I imagine the wedding shall be soon?" Mrs. Gardner said delicately.

"Yes, aunt. Uncle and Mr. Darcy agreed that under the present circumstances, it should be soon. So he shall come and call on us at Gracechurch street, where he will have the banns published, and we shall be married by special license in six weeks."

"My, that is sudden." her aunt remarked blandly.

Elizabeth ducked her head down into her tea, unsure of why she suddenly felt shy and unsure.

"Yes. Mr. Darcy wishes to inform his family and bring his sister, for us to become acquainted before the wedding."

"That is indeed very wise."

"Aunt."

"Lizzie." Elizabeth's aunt responded to her, matching the same exasperating tones Elizabeth had produced.

"I simply want you to be sure that you are making the right decision, my dear. That is all. Marriage is a lifetime commitment, and not an undertaking to be taking lightly."

Elizabeth glanced out the window, her yes following the men and women that walked through the streets of Meryton, each and every one of them passing by her aunt and uncle's home, every single day on their way to the shops.

"I know, aunt."

"Lizzie, I did not mean-"

Elizabeth grasped her aunt's hand into her own. "I understand. I do not love Mr. Darcy, Aunt Gardner, but he is, in his essentials a good man, and after everything that I have now learned, that is all I require."

"Well then," her aunt said brightly, changing the subject, "you shall have to write to me and describe the grounds of Pemberley. I believe you shall be very pleased with them. From what I remember of my girlhood in Lambton, Pemberley, indeed Derbyshire has some of the finest woodland areas in the country."

Fitzwilliam Darcy strode into the study of his best friend, Charles Bingley, who, uncharacteristically had his head buried in a large pile of correspondence. Fitzwilliam resisted the urge to laugh at his friend, for this morning had brought him two impossibles: the woman he had hardly admitted, even to himself, that he loved had accepted his pig headed proposal, and his best friend, a man who, despite his desire and drive to fulfill his father's dying wish and become the master of an estate, absolutely loathed the letter writing responsibilities that were entwined with the workings of an estate, was seeking to improve his personal defects by applying himself to the task.

Charles head poked up, his dark hair crazed and wild, as though he had spent the entire morning running his hands through it.

"How was your ride, Darcy?" he asked good naturedly, using the arrival of his friend as an excuse to take a break from the piles of correspondence that lay before him.

"It was….productive." Fitzwilliam finally settled on such a word.

"Really, how so?" his friend asked eagerly.

Fitzwilliam decided to simply say it.

"I met Miss Elizabeth on the road to her home," he said, matching Charles' wince as he mentioned Longbourn, as he and Charles had endured a dinner of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst tittering and play slapping each other's hands due to the fact that Miss Elizabeth had apparently refused to marry Mr. Collins, so soon after the death of her father, and as a result of her decision, she and her sisters had been ordered to vacate their home by Mr. Collins. A perfectly legal decision, but still, one that had made him not only uneasy, but had kept him up for quite a few nights, until he had admitted to himself the cause of such feelings. "and I proposed to her, Charles. She has accepted."

Charles gaped at him, and then fell back into his chair, doubled over, and began to laugh.

"Charles? Are you well?"

Charles sat up, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes, as he composed himself. When his breath had finally steadied, he replied, "Oh I am quite well, Darcy. I am simply imaging my dear sister's reaction when you tell her of your engagement."

Fitzwilliam shifted uncomfortably within his seat. He had been lucky enough to avoid Caroline on his journey into Charles' study, but he would not be able to avoid the woman forever. His eyes slid over to Charles form in a silent plea.

"Oh no, my dear friend. It is your engagement, and you should be the one to tell Caroline. I shall of course, be by your side, to console Caroline afterwards."

Fitzwilliam frowned. "That is unkind Charles. I have never encouraged your sister."

Charles ignored his concerns with a wave of his hand. "As you know, that has never stopped Caroline. Now that you are engaged, she shall be forced to cast her hook into another fish. Perhaps a more willing one."

Charles walked to his old friend, and clasped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, Darcy. I should have guessed that you had feelings for Miss Elizabeth, but I should not have predicted that you should be so forthright about them!"

Fitzwilliam returned his friends clasp with a warm smile, glad that he had the friendship of such a man. "Of course, Charles, there were circumstances that hastened my proposal, but I should hope that you would stand up with me in six weeks."

Charles agreed readily, though his joy and happiness for his friend was tinged with sorrow.

Later that evening, after Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst had elected, not surprisingly to retire early, both feigning headaches, and Mr. Hurst too had left Charles and Fitzwilliam to their own devices to retire to his rooms with a bottle of port, the remaining friends elected to retire to the study.

Fitzwilliam watched as Charles stared moodily into his port glass, and then finished it with a long swig, grimacing as he did so. It had never failed to amuse Fitzwilliam how little tolerance Charles had for strong drink, and that he only imbibed simply to fit in with his fellows. Another manner in which he and Charles were different, Fitzwilliam supposed.

A voice reproached him, its pleasing tone familiar, in the back of his mind, sardonically noting the differences between a gentleman related to an earl and descended from one of the first land owning, ancient families in England, and from the grandson of a tradesman who had recently purchased his first estate. The difference between a gentleman of good standing and wealth, beholden to no one but his own mind, marrying where he wished, and a newfound gentleman wishing to gain more than a foothold into a new world.

Fitzwilliam winced. Caroline was convinced that Jane Bennet nurtured a burning passion for Charles, while he had been convinced that Caroline thought so because of Charles' infatuation with the blonde beauty, despite her impediment.

He had never seen anything other than general pleasantry on the lady's face, although he noted that she had not been often addressed by other gentlemen, at least not in his presence. Therefore, her behavior he could only compare to when she interacted with himself, Bingley, and Mr. Collins. The voice, still so pleasing and sweet, encouraged him in his thoughts, and he, at once made up his mind, to speak bluntly to his fiancee-oh how he loved to even think the words-and ask her opinion, for, now that he was completely being honest with himself, he realized that Charles was the master of himself, and his decisions were his own.

First, he had to be honest.

"I have something to confess to you Charles." he said, rousing Charles out of his dejected stupor.

"What say you, Darcy?"

"I proposed to Miss Elizabeth this morning."

"Yes, Darcy, I know." Charles replied, confused.

"I bungled it." Fitzwilliam said, his chin hanging low in dejection.

"What do you mean, Darce?" Charles asked, still confused.

"I insulted her family. Her father has not been cold in the ground a week, she has been thrown out of her childhood home by a dejected suitor, and I found her walking towards her home, and I stopped and I proposed. I had been thinking of doing so, to my chagrin, almost immediately after meeting with her again, when your sisters had invited her and Miss Bennet for supper."

He hung his head lower, unable, or unwilling to face his shame.

"Charles, I must apologize. I had arrogantly thought that she should immediately accept my proposal not simply because of my stature, but because of hers. She accepted my proposal, but not before setting me to rights. I had-if it had been any other lady, I think that I should have walked off immediately."

Charles studied his friend carefully.

"But what should you have to apologize to me for, Darcy?"

"It is about Miss Bennet."

Charles protested, not wishing to hear another laundry list of why he should not propose to her, love her, and Darcy lifted a hand to stay his complaints.

"Charles, you are of your own mind. I know that your sister has only teased you so far, because she does not believe that you are willing to court or propose to Miss Bennet due to her disability, and for a time I had tacitly agreed with Caroline, as in terms of fortune and connections, it should not have help your social status. Had your sister felt your feelings were serious, and not simply a fleeting crush, she would have enlisted myself to assist her to dissuade her, and I most likely would have agreed and helped her. For that, I apologize."

Charles clapped his friend on the shoulder in gratitude, which his friend gratefully accepted.

"You are my closest and only friend Darcy, and I am glad you are marrying Miss Elizabeth. You proposed to her some dozen hours ago, and already you are losing some of your fastidiousness! It is a Bennet influence, I am sure of it." he joked.

Fitzwilliam regarded his friend with a serious mien.

"I do not know, Charles, if Miss Bennet is in love with you, for I do not know enough of her character to make such a judgement. If you are willing, I shall ask Miss Elizabeth when we meet in London in a week, and gain her opinion then. I shall help you, if that is what you wish."

Charles acquiesced to his friend easily, a ready smile touching his lips.

"A chance Darcy, that is all I require."

Gracechurch Street, London

"Are you really going to marry Mr. Darcy, Lizzie?" Lydia asked eagerly, as she lazily sprawled over Elizabeth and Jane's bedroom.

As with staying at their Aunt and Uncle Phillips for a short period of time, Elizabeth and Jane had to share a room, as well as Lydia and Mary-who had both elected to continue sharing a room-and Kitty had a room to herself, for all of her cousins were still in the nursery.

The sisters were gathered in Elizabeth and Jane's room, all of them eagerly asking questions about Elizabeth's engagement. Elizabeth had already granted them, a much edited version of his proposal, leaving out the information that Mr. Wickham had attempted to seduce and run away with Mr. Darcy's sister, only confirming for them that Mr. Wickham was not a man to be tolerated or trifled with, though it was unlikely that they should ever meet him again.

"Yes, I am Lyddie." Elizabeth said absentmindedly as she searched for a nightgown and wrap to change into from her shared trunk.

"Are you in love with him, or are you marrying him because of Mr. Collins? I think you are marrying him because of Mr. Collins," Lydia said in a rush, continuing her speech, not noticing the effect it had on her now trembling sister. "I saw him. He thought I was loud and stupid and silly, but I am not, and I saw him!" Lydia exclaimed.

"Lyddie!" Mary admonished, "You are upsetting Lizzie."

Lydia pouted for a moment, before realizing that her sister was right. She slid off the bed in a most unlady like fashion, and curled up to Elizabeth, who still stood trembling in front of the open trunk.

"I'm sorry Lizzie." she repeated sorrowfully, over and over again, into Elizabeth's shoulder. Elizabeth could only nod, unable to stop her trembling.