8 – Changes

A/N: I can't tell you how much I appreciate the feedback you all have given – and I mean all of it! The kind words, the constructive comments; thanks to all of you. Hopefully this chapter will sustain you for a few days. Thanks so much for reading. And to those of you who comment and review without signing in, I'd love to be able to respond to your comments as well (just a little hint). Eb

Darcy stepped quickly to the door and, surveying the immediate area, noted Wickham had indeed beaten a hasty retreat and was nowhere to be seen. Turning back to the room, he watched Elizabeth's resolve slowly crumbling before him. He had heard her bravely confronting Wickham as he had approached and was thankful he had arrived before Wickham had taken any more serious action.

Her eyes searched him for an answer. "He is fled," Darcy assured her as he stepped cautiously toward her. Fear reflected in her eyes as she scanned the entire length of him, including the top of his hat. Instinct rather than cognition told Darcy to remove his hat and he did so, placing it on the workbench—along with his walking stick—while maintaining eye contact. He let Elizabeth's countenance dictate his actions as he took another slow step toward her, carefully followed by another.

With his next step he extended his hand to her with his palm up as an invitation. She seemed to study his hand before slowly raising hers and taking his. Darcy, showing almost a reverence, raised her hand with both of his to gently kiss it while gazing down on her, meeting her eyes. Then, with unabashed tenderness, he brought her hand next to his heart and cradled it there, as though it were a most precious gift.

Elizabeth's eyes were full of wonder as she watched Darcy in his careful ministrations. Her free hand-now also free of the pestle—rose to her lips. Though her mouth was trying to speak, her brain had not formed words and nothing was said. Her first attempt was, "I…" followed by nothing. Her second was, "Oh …" followed by a slight choke before her resolve completely abandoned her.

She was once again in the sound embrace of Mr. Darcy, holding on to his lapels as she sobbed freely in his arms. Again his hand cradled her head against his shoulder as he held her close to him; his soothing tone of assurance nearly sounded like a familiar lullaby.

"He is gone; he cannot hurt you. I will keep you safe." His words continued as he gently rocked her in his arms.

Her repeated attempts to speak only resulted in heightened sobs and burying her head further into his chest. And yet, in that act, was the greatest comfort: she was aware of his scent once again. She wanted to breathe him into her system, if it were possible.

For his part, Darcy rested his cheek against the top of Elizabeth's head and had the same desire. Her scent of lavender filled his senses as he continued holding her close against him.

Moments passed as they remained together in the stillroom. When her breathing was controlled, Elizabeth was finally able to form her words. "He plans to return. I am not free of him."

Though not relinquishing his hold on her, Darcy shifted Elizabeth in his arms and gently forced her head up to see her eyes. "Wickham will not harm you; I will see to it—," and he stopped himself there. Would he be a coward, or …? She was in his arms and contentedly so. Her eyes still reflected fear, but her body showed her complete trust in him. Resolving himself, he studied her eyes and then took the conscious leap. "You are safe with me," his voice dropped, "my love."

The slight gasp escaping from Elizabeth's lips briefly concerned Darcy until he saw the barest of smiles on her lips, and the loveliest little twinkle in her eyes.

"I did hear you aright, yesterday," she said as the dawning realization increased.

"I have said it many times before," he said, but quickly amended it when he saw her brow furrow, "but only in my heart – and only for you."

The most contented of smiles crossed Elizabeth's face as they remained in their easy embrace. Her attempt to speak, "Oh, M—," was interrupted by Darcy's request.

"Elizabeth," he said, as though trying out the feel of her name on his tongue, "let me be William to you." The twinkle reappeared. "From this day on, let me be William with you."

Her smile grew with her reply. "Yes, William, as I am Elizabeth with you."

So entranced were they with the newness of their situation, that it took a few moments to realize many voices outside were calling Elizabeth's name. It wasn't until Lydia's anxious cry was near the door that their reverie was broken and Darcy stepped slightly back from Elizabeth.

"Lizzie!" Lydia cried as she stepped in the doorway and saw Darcy with her. "Oh," her alarm was evident, "I see you have been found."

Resolving to remain at ease, Elizabeth met Lydia's inquiring eyes. "Yes, apparently, Lydia," she answered with a gentle tone. "Was there something the matter?"

Lydia gulped, eyeing the two suspiciously. "Yes, we didn't know where you were and Hawkins thought he saw Mr. Wickham in the area." Watching for her sister's reaction—and seeing none—she continued. "We were worried. Everyone is looking for you, Lizzie, including Jane and Mr. Bingley."

"Well," Elizabeth started, letting out a deep breath, "could you tell everyone that you found me and that I am quite well?"

Lydia was still staring wide-eyed. "I will," she said slowly with a nod. "But," she started slowly and then blurted out the rest of her question, "Did you see Mr. Wickham, Lizzie? Was he here?"

Darcy was prepared to answer for her, but the look between them indicated Elizabeth's desire to answer for herself. "Yes," she responded quietly, "but he fled when Mr. Darcy arrived."

Lydia eyes grew wider as she indicated her desire for more information, but she was quieted by Elizabeth's lifting her head higher. "Could you let the rest of them know we'll be in, in a moment?" Lydia silently nodded and disappeared.

Elizabeth stared at the door as she felt Darcy take her hand and nestle it into the crux of his arm. As he led her from the stillroom, he momentarily halted to retrieve his hat and walking stick before proceeding out the door.

As they walked at a comfortable gait, Darcy commented, "I would like to speak with your father privately, Elizabeth, but I was hoping we could take a walk afterwards, if you feel comfortable doing so." He tried to read her reaction, but she kept her head down. "I should only be a few minutes with your father and, I promise you, you will be safe."

She raised her head and looked up at him with a smile of contentment. "I think I should like to be outside for awhile." A flicker of a shadow passed her face. "I fear I shall not be able to venture past the front door alone now."

He glanced at her from the side and tried to assure her. "Perhaps we can remedy that situation."

As they stepped into the house, Elizabeth was reminded of the scene from yesterday upon their return from Meryton. There was much activity as before, but somehow the hysteria had not reached the same heights. Deciding not to question the reason, she gave her bravest smile, hoping it was believable. Jane was the first to rush toward her with Bingley coming to stand a few steps behind her.

"Lizzie," she asked breathlessly, "are you alright? Lydia said you saw Mr. Wickham. Did you speak to him?" This she asked very pointedly, fixing her eyes, demanding a straightforward answer.

Elizabeth returned her sister's glare with a smile. "I am quite alright, Jane. He was not there very long before Mr. Darcy came, at which point Mr. Wickham felt the need to leave immediately." Her countenance almost faltered at the remembrance of Mr. Wickham's parting words to her, but was able to maintain herself and thought it best to repress this information for the time being. Even still, Jane was noting redness around her sister's eyes; surely, later, Elizabeth would confide in her more of the details.

"It is indeed a good thing you arrived when you did, Mr. Darcy." This was the first Elizabeth had seen of her mother as she stepped forward most congenially and without any of her customary agitation. Mrs. Bennet looked up at Mr. Darcy. "You must imagine, sir, how grateful we are that you have come to the aid of our Elizabeth not once, but twice in two days." Elizabeth was at a loss in the behaviour her mother displayed; she wondered whether she had taken in too much laudanum for her nerves.

Still being the gentleman he was, Darcy was prompt in his reply. "It was my pleasure, I can assure you madam," he said with a short bow. "But upon finding Wickham with Miss Elizabeth, I was quite impressed with the strength of her rejection of his advancements." Elizabeth noted the smile that played across his face. "I have noted previously her skill in exchanging barbs with even those well seasoned in the art."

She was about to give a playful slap to his arm, but realized, as he was still holding her one hand in the crux of his arm—which was noted by her family and Mr. Bingley—she did not want to bring any scrutiny on the two of them. No one noticed the slight squeeze she gave Darcy's arm – except Darcy and he said nothing.

"I am glad to see you have survived another difficulty with that man, my child," her father said, stepping forward and eyeing Darcy as well. "I trust this is not to be a habit, Lizzie." His tone was light, his face was dour; these were instances that only those closest to him could detect his mood.

"Papa," she leaned forward with her free hand on her father's arm, "I really am fine" and as an afterthought, she added, "I am only tiring of needing to repeat it so frequently lately." The lightening of her father's visage lightened Elizabeth's as well.

"Perhaps you would like to sit and rest, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy turned to her speaking quietly, but loud enough for the rest to hear, "while I speak with your father privately." There was a slightly audible shiver that went through Mrs. Bennet, causing Elizabeth to roll her eyes. But as Darcy guided her to sit, he gave her a furtive wink and smile to alleviate any embarrassment.

Straightening himself, he addressed Mr. Bennet. "Sir, would you mind if I have a word with you?"

In his usual manner, Mr. Bennet answered, "I think I would insist Mr. Darcy," and he led the two of them out of the room to his library.