AN: I apologize for the delay, but there was this thing called Christmas that popped up (hope you all enjoyed yours). Thanks again for your many kind words.

6 – Musings by Moonlight

The events of the day continued vexing Elizabeth's brain into the night as she tried to settle herself to sleep. That she had been so completely wrong in her prior assessments of Messrs Darcy and Wickham was only one aspect of her aggravation, one that she had made peace with after reflecting on Mr. Darcy's words: Wickham was a well-practiced deceiver and she had been only too willing to give his lies credence.

Now the more troublesome aspect of what had transpired revisited her: she was now reasonably assured that she and Mr. Darcy did not hate each other. And, upon further reflection, she felt she was safe to say they were close to actually liking each other, but caution prevented her from saying it with certainty. But then, in further contemplation, she found herself wanting to push the argument just a bit further – could it be more than "like"?

It was at this point her torment increased greatly. She remembered the relief at seeing Mr. Darcy's approach, his self-assuredness when addressing the duke and taking charge, his words of reassurance for her safety, the warmth in his eyes, his touch on her hand, her arm, her chin, the feel of his arms about her, … No—Elizabeth forcibly stopped the smile that had spread across her face—she couldn't think this way about a man that she was sure she had loathed only that same morning! It was impossible for her to change that drastically and that quickly. And she was sure it was the same for him.

And thus restarted the cycle of vexation Elizabeth had endured for several hours now as Jane slept peacefully next to her, a contented smile delicately gracing her face. How she envied Jane; she could look forward to a deeper relationship with the man she loved. Why could it not be as easy for herself?

She determined to lay still and not think of anything. This, of course, was pointless; however, this time, she also thought back on the talk her father had had with her later in the afternoon. He discussed with her what Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley had told him of what happened and asked for her further confirmation that she was not hurt in any way.

Her assurance seemed to settle his mind, but on observation, she noted that her father was still pensive. While she waited in silence, he had walked toward the window looking out at nothing. She watched him for as long as she could stand.

"Papa?" No response. She waited before rising and quietly stepping over to him. Studying his expression, she noted a gravity to his face, but his eyes seemed to have a slight mist in them as he slowly turned to face her.

"Papa, I am fine," she had tried to reassure him as if there were some lingering doubt. He continued to gaze down on her as he lifted his hand to her shoulder with his thumb just glancing off her cheek. A sad smile hinted at his lips as he replied.

"And I am grateful that you are, my child," he said. He continued to look down at her in silence before he spoke further. "As he was leaving, Darcy suggested it would be best for you not to wander off by yourself, just for the time being." The tone to his voice implied his agreement with Mr. Darcy's suggestion.

Elizabeth cocked her head slightly as she considered what her father was saying. She appreciated the concern Mr. Darcy had shown for her safety – and had he not done that sufficiently that day! His concern elevated to such a level that he would speak to her father was a surprise, indeed. But that her father took it so seriously that he was repeating it; this showed a level of respect from her father for the man she could never have expected. She knew her father liked Mr. Bingley, but had never exhibited any great admiration for him, per se.

It only slightly crossed her mind that she was not bristling at the directive not to wander off alone. If she were being honest with herself, she thought it was rather sweet the level of concern exhibited.

As she stood pensively in the library with her father, he leaned over and kissed her forehead before pulling her against him and laying her head against his shoulder.

"Do not fret yourself. All will be well again soon, my child," he said.

The remembrance of the scene in the library caused Elizabeth to sit up straight in bed, her eyes wide open.

"Lizzie, please," Jane moaned sleepily. "What's the matter?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as she slowly laid back down, the alarm still showing on her face.

"Oh Jane," she started, "I've just remembered something."

*P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P&P*

Only three miles away, another sleepless night was occurring. The same plague of the day's remembrances was haunting one Mr. Darcy as he paced in his chamber at Netherfield. No woman—aside from his mother and sister—had ever caused him to lose sleep, but here he was, not able to think of anything other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

It was not that he found the thoughts unpleasant – quite the contrary. He remembered how surprised she looked at his first appearance that day. Her frequent glances at him before he could wrestle her away from Wickham made him realize that she looked to him for reassurance give him a feeling of pride. And when she had showed no sign of shrinking from his touch—whether her hand, her arm, her face, or holding her in his embrace—he feared he could not stop. A thousand pounds seemed but a small price to pay for the pleasure.

A thousand pounds – that had become an unforeseen issue now. Upon their return to Netherfield, Bingley had informed him that he would accept no more than half the amount, as it had been for ensuring the safety of one he hoped soon to call sister.

Bingley had surprised him today. He could almost admit a feeling of pride in Bingley showing himself the man. In matters of the heart, Bingley could easily be induced to fall in love – until faced with the young woman's father; somehow his courage could flee in the face of a father. But today, he had cautiously spoken with Mr. Bennet and showed discernment in choosing the moment to do so. It will be no surprise, thought Darcy smiling, if within six months Netherfield welcomes a new mistress.

The current acting mistress, Miss Caroline Bingley, would most likely not appreciate being displaced, but it was hardly worth anyone's concern. Bingley's & Darcy's return to Netherfield and announcement of their change of plans had startled everyone, most especially Bingley's sisters. But, as both gentlemen were quite firm in their decision, the Hursts & Miss Bingley could not protest and curtailed their departure until the next morning.

As for himself, in the morning, he would plan a return visit to Longbourn, no doubt in the company of Bingley. He hoped that Mr. Bennet would follow through on his advice that Elizabeth remain close to home for the next few days, until they could be sure she would not be preyed upon by Wickham – or, dare he think it, the duke as well. More than that, he hoped Elizabeth would not object. He allowed himself the thought it was merely out of courtesy that he visit in the morning and offer to escort her on one of her walks.

Therefore, his thoughts were most assuredly settled on Miss Elizabeth Bennet once again. He glanced down at his shoulder, as though he might find her head nestled there and replayed the moment, resisting the urge to lift his hand to cradle her head. He could almost feel her breath on his shoulder, as when he'd spoken words of assurance to her.

And then he stopped – his words. He remembered what he'd said. Would she?