A/N My thanks to Sandy W for all her hard work in beta editing this story, and to all of you for reading.

Part 5-'…An unwelcome proposal…'

Darcy tiredly rubbed his eyes as he read the newspaper spread out in front of him, with the headline screaming, 'The Framed Rose Proves It Has Its Thorns'. The two page spread was making him nauseous; what had he done?

Lizzy Bennet had succeeded in making him so angry that for the first time in three years he had gone out and gotten completely drunk. And now the frame by frame shot of his dancing with Lizzy and then abandoning her was proving no cure for a hangover.

He had long forgiven her, his anger had been soon replaced by a powerful, tolerable feeling; it was the thought that George Wickham had encroached upon his life once more that had caused the excess drinking. He was a shadow, a bane he could not shake off…and an immeasurable source of pain to those he loved.

Had he really said her opinion did not matter, that he did not care for it…? How wrong could he have been? As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them; it had been long since her opinion had proved to be the only one that mattered.

Bingley's entrance was as sudden as it was loud and painful to a tender Darcy. He groaned as his friend slapped down a handful of papers on the table, one after the other, in front of him.

'You know, Darcy, it's stunts like this that make my job all that much harder…'

'Bingley…please don't shout…'

Bingley noted the way Darcy was holding his head. 'My God…are you drunk?' He sounded disgusted.

'No…not any more…' Darcy was holding out his tongue, trying to remember what it felt like, without all the fur and awful taste.

Bingley was shouting again, 'What the hell is the matter with you…? Whatever Lizzy may have said or done…nothing…nothing justifies the way you humiliated her last night…' He snatched up a paper and began to read.

'…Rumours persisted, and were given added force yesterday, of a rift between the two main stars of the much-anticipated and eagerly awaited film, The Framed Rose. Though much denied, the chilly atmosphere between Elizabeth Bennet and Fitzwilliam Darcy, who are to portray the lovers Celia and Rupert, was evident at the charity ball they both attended. They were seen to hardly speak at dinner, and though the dance that followed appeared to be intimate and spontaneous, one could not help but suspect it had all been staged…'

Bingley fixed him with a stare, 'Ready to hear more…?' At Darcy's feeble 'No…,' he carried on anyway.

'…No one could know the words that passed between the two during this dance, but the effect of them proved to be quite spectacular. An evidently angry Darcy followed Miss Bennet as she made her way off the floor and engaged her, just as the band was striking up again, in the most passionate, angriest, and sultriest Tango the surprised audience are likely to have ever seen.

'…This, we were soon to realise, was not staged, for instead of completing the dance and accepting the generous applause for such a fine display of footwork, Darcy proceeded to abandon his partner on the dance floor…'

Bingley paused for effect, fully intending to finish the article, when he was interrupted by Darcy. 'Enough…Bingley, enough, please…I know what I did was terrible and I'm sorry…'

Bingley was not so easily reconciled. 'It's not me you have to apologise to, and you know, Darcy…somehow I don't think 'Sorry' is going to cut it this time…'

Bingley stormed off, slamming the doors purposefully as he went. Darcy let out another painful groan.

Jane sat curiously eyeing Lizzy as she prepared herself for make-up and costume. She had never been so worried about her sister; events of last night had left Lizzy…curiously calm. Unnervingly calm. Jane had convinced herself Lizzy was planning something diabolical.

'Lizzy...' she began tentatively, 'are you alright…?' Her sister's reply was surprisingly cheerful.

'Yes, of course…why?'

'Lizzy, we were all there last night; we saw what happened…what Darcy did…'

Jane saw her shrug it off, 'It does no good to dwell on these things, Jane…besides, Darcy will be sorry, I will make him regret it…'

And there it was, the Lizzy she recognised, angry and passionate…but still, shouldn't her expression be a little less lively, and a lot more serious? Jane stared anxiously at her sister.

'Lizzy…?'

'Hmmmm….?'

'Lizzy…you're not planning on hurting Darcy…physically, I mean…' Jane pressed her arm desperately.

'No, of course not…I'm angry, not psychotic, Jane …'

Jane smiled, relieved. She rose to leave but on second thoughts turned back. '…All the same… you wouldn't mind if I took the scissors…the pins…, oh, and this nail file…' She gathered up the items as she spoke, '…They don't let you keep knives in here, do they…?'

Lizzy sat alone in pensive thought after Jane's departure. She stared deeply into the mirror seeking out all her imperfections. She felt as she did when she had overheard Darcy's view of actresses, just as awful and depressed. Her words to Jane, that she would prove Darcy sorry, had been nothing but shallow bravado; in truth, she had no idea how to take her revenge.

His humiliation of her had proved complete, and he had certainly shown how little her opinion of him mattered…what else was there?

Lizzy's despairing gesture of raising her hand to cover her face and in turn knocking over something to the floor was to provide the answer; as she bent to retrieve the item, she saw her script for the forthcoming scene in her hand.

She smiled, suddenly realising the answer was right before her! It was so simple; Lizzy berated herself for not thinking of it before. Of course, the only thing Darcy truly cared about, was passionate about, was his acting. Lizzy resolved to outdo him at that, she would act him off the screen…give a performance so breathtaking…so real, he would have to admit her worth, her potential…and most importantly, that he was wrong. He would resent the competition and she was sure she could do it…she certainly knew the book well enough.

Lizzy excitedly jumped out of her chair and hurried out of her trailer. She flung open her door and was shocked to be greeted with a painful moan upon doing so. Peeking behind the door, she was met with the sight of Mr Collins woefully rubbing his forehead, nursing what was proving to be a substantial lump.

'Oh no, Mr Collins…are you alright? I'm so sorry…I didn't see you there…'

'That's quite alright, Miss Bennet. I was just retrieving these cards I had dropped…entirely my fault, I assure you…' She wondered at the cards he held in his hand. They had dropped into a puddle, and he was vainly trying to blow the water from them.

'I wonder, Miss Bennet, if I may speak to you, alone…'

Lizzy smiled but shook her head, 'I'm sorry, Mr Collins, but I am expected at make-up, perhaps another time…'

He stepped in her way. 'Please, Miss Bennet…I assure you, it is quite important…'

It was clear he was not going to give way until she had heard him out, and purely in the interest of having it done with as soon as possible, Lizzy, resigned, gestured towards her trailer door.

She suspected something of what he had to say. She had seen him in frequent conversation with her mother, and the both of them had thrown such expressive glances towards her she was left in no doubt as to what they had been discussing.

She thought she saw him sneaking peeks at his cards, arranging them and shuffling them. Lizzy sat at her table, endeavouring to be patient. He looked up now and then, smiling and reading as he went. Lizzy sat up a few times in anticipation when it at last seemed as if he was about to speak, but he simply shook his head and went back to arranging his cards.

It had been a good ten minutes, and Lizzy was about to prompt him when at last Mr Collins did speak.

'Miss Bennet, perhaps I ought to state my reasons for addressing you thus…though I cannot expect you to be too surprised, my feelings for you have long been made clear…but I get ahead of myself…'

Another quick glance through his cards to make sure of what he wrote and he was off again. 'You see, my being a history expert, living alone with my books, has led to assumptions being made in the past amongst my neighbours, with regards to my…sexuality…' Lizzy had to restrain herself from laughing as she saw how he struggled over the word.

'Wrongful assumptions, I must hasten to add…but I wish to allay further embarrassment and question, Miss Bennet, by marriage…to you…'

Lizzy smiled; trust Mr Collins to be the only man in the world who would bring prompting cards when making a proposal. Though she knew her answer long before he asked the question, Lizzy could still not help but feel sorry for him, and in an effort to prevent further embarrassment she endeavoured to stop him before he said another word on the subject.

'Mr Collins…' He interrupted her by raising his hand before she could say anything more. Lizzy rolled her eyes in despair when his back was turned.

'Please, Miss Bennet…from the first moment of my stepping onto the set, I have come to feel strongly for you…your wit and vivacity, though admittedly not exactly suited to my reserved nature…however, I think it's something we will work out, we can tame and quieten that aspect of you, Miss Bennet…'

Lizzy balked at the idea, 'Tame, sir…?'

He pretended not to hear her, 'I find you wonderfully endearing, I am convinced you are exactly the type of woman to ensure my happiness…and I am pleased to add my attentions have not been entirely discouraged by you… '

Lizzy longed to say that this had been only because she had felt sorry for him, and nothing more, but he blundered on, oblivious, with yet another shuffle through the cards.

'Miss Bennet, you must very well know, the film industry is far from certain, in fact this film itself…the chances of its success are in doubt, to say the least…be that as it may, Miss Bennet you are a sensible woman, I am sure you will appreciate the financial security only a husband with a secure social position such as mine can provide…'

Lizzy had been called many things but never a 'sensible woman'. 'Mr Collins, I thank you for you elegant words and…kind proposal, but…'

Mr Collins did not like the sound of that 'but' and hastened onwards, 'Your mother has led me to believe that my pressing this suit was not entirely hopeless…'

Lizzy shook her head vigorously. 'Then I am sorry, but she was wrong to do so…'

'And I have spoken to your father; he was not forthcoming in his opinion but I believe he is not averse to the match…'

Lizzy was astounded; this was all moving at a pace she found difficult to keep up with. 'You have spoken to my father..?'

'Yes, I went to see him at his rehearsals. We spoke only briefly, as he was extremely busy, but he assured me that he would write to you on the subject…'

Lizzy looked around, puzzled. Spying her mail, she frantically searched through the post, and sure enough, there it was…a letter in a handwriting she fully recognised. Taking her eyes briefly away from Mr Collins appeared to have afforded him the perfect opportunity to suddenly fall to his knees before a startled Lizzy.

He placed a finger on her lips clumsily, 'Miss Bennet…you must allow me to express my ardent admiration and passion for you, and only ask that if your reply is contrary to my wishes that you do not state it now…'

He seemed to gain momentarily in confidence, '…but if your reply is to make me the happiest man in the world, by all means answer at once…' He removed his finger in order to allow her to do so, but soon replaced it again when she seemed hesitant.

'Well, I only ask that you permit me to ask you again in a few months' time…a little hope, if you please…that I may at least have some wish to expect your answer sometime in the future to be…favourable.'

Mr Collins looked so pathetic and forlorn that Lizzy could not help but feel sorry for him. Though she knew her answer could never be different, she could not see the harm in giving him the little hope he craved.

He left happy, and Lizzy was relieved to be rid of him at last. She turned to the note from her father in anticipation. Upon opening it she smiled; it was a short note, elegantly written and characteristically to the point.


My dear Lizzy,

I have endeavoured to send this letter in the hope that it reaches you before a certain proposal. If it proves to be a little late, it does not signify for I am confident of the choice you will make.

And now to the particulars: our mutual friend Mr Collins came to see me a few days ago with regards to a proposal for my favourite daughter. I will spare you the details; suffice it to say Mr Collins may have proved a novel amusement at first, but I'm afraid soon became tiresome. My only means of escape was to ensure him that my approval would only come after that of my daughter. I was deliberately vague as to my feelings on the subject. The poor man went away hopeful to say the least; I, of course, knew better.

Your mother called yesterday with her endorsement, afraid that your answer would prove unsatisfactory to both her and Mr Collins; she sought to gain my support for the whole affair.

If you are at all wavering as to your decision, Lizzy, perhaps my next words would do something to sway you. The unenviable prospect of henceforth being a stranger to one of your parents is before you: your mother will not speak to you again if do not marry Mr Collins, and I state, in no uncertain terms, that I will not speak to you again if you do.

There, I have done all that is required of me. I only add, I have implicit confidence in your judgment, Lizzy, and trust you will make the right decision accordingly.

As always,

Your loving father

Lizzy folded up the letter and was about to put it away, when her mother barged in without knocking.

'Well, I have spoken to Mr Collins…you have outdone yourself this time, Lizzy…' She spied the letter Lizzy held in her hand. 'Is that a note from your father? Oh, he took the time to write, did he…let me see it…'

Lizzy smiled slyly as she handed it to her, 'By all means, mother…' well aware that his words would not meet with her approval.

Mr Collins' lengthy proposal had already made her late; her mother's anger would have to wait. She eased her way past her and, pushing open the door, hurriedly began to make her way to the make-up department.

But Mrs Bennet was not to be so easily eluded. She finished the note and, angrily scrunching it up in her hand, pursued Lizzy while waving the letter above her head. 'Well, this is exactly what I would have expected from him…favourite daughter indeed…!'

Lizzy carried on walking, 'You were wrong, mother, to give Mr Collins false hope like that, and now I have had to do the same…'

'Is that why he looked so happy..?'

'Are you really so ignorant of my character…' Lizzy called back angrily, 'that after twenty years you still don't know your own daughter's nature well enough to suspect that her answer might be a refusal…?'

'Forgive me for thinking that my daughter of twenty years might finally have come to her senses…your career has hardly flourished, this film, your first, is verging on disaster.'

That stopped Lizzy in her tracks. She turned to face her mother angrily; this was the second person to cast aspersions on her future prospects.

Mrs Bennet refused to be intimidated. 'And you are aware of our financial situation. If you think your parents will support you once you're a washed-up, broke actress…'

Mrs Bennet had been expecting fireworks at this comment but surprisingly Lizzy merely smiled.

'I will endeavour to forgive that little speech of yours, mother…because I know what a difficult time it must be for you…' Lizzy spoke deliberately loud, attracting the attention of the numerous personnel milling about.

Mrs Bennet looked closely at her, puzzled and a little worried. 'What are you talking about, Lizzy...?'

'The hot flushes, the mood swings and the irritability…Mother, it's all quite clear…'

Still Mrs Bennet refused to understand. Lizzy's face turned to mock seriousness, 'It's quite alright, mother…it's nothing to be ashamed of, and you're merely passing onto another stage of the wonderful cycle of life…'

Her mother's eyes widened as she realised with horror what Lizzy was implicating.

'It is a perfectly natural thing for older, maturing women to go through…' Lizzy paused deliberately, '…the MENOPAUSE…!'

Mrs Bennet at first gasped, and then, clutching her chest dramatically, practically screamed at the word. The sniggers of onlookers could not be mistaken. She turned on her heel and hurried away, calling out as she went, 'Elizabeth Bennet…I will never forgive you for this…and I will never speak to you again…'

Her voice faded into the distance, and Lizzy, smiling, merely added, 'What a blessing that would be, mother, if only it were true…' before resuming her quick pace to make-up.

Her step was more self-assured than ever; Lizzy was determined to make a success of The Framed Rose if only to escape the sort of financial security Mr Collins was threatening.