Author's Notes: Still in new territory and back to ODC. And as I haven't mentioned it for a while, great thanks to my husband for his help, especially in this chapter where there was a vexing scene that I just couldn't find an end to.

Also, I guess I rather sickened the readers of the previous chapter as the response was rather subdued, though I do thank all of you who have favorited, followed and reviewed. Perhaps this chapter might be considered an improvement and will hopefully wipe away any bad taste left by the previous chapter. Please let me know what you think.

Chapter 7

Begging the Question

Elizabeth was determined not to be maudlin during the absence of Mr. Darcy. After all, two months ago, she did not even know of his existence and not even a month ago, she thought him the proudest, most disagreeable man in the world. Simply because she found herself changing her opinions rather completely on the gentleman, that was no reason for her to feel so listless without him near. Nor was there any need for her to retreat to windows when she could not escape to the outside. Nor count the days until his likely reappearance. No, she was a rational girl. She always had been and had no desire to become overcome with sensibility for so pitiful a reason.

And there was no reason for her to overly dwell upon either the letter she had written immediately after the Netherfield Ball to Mrs. Gardiner asking her to if she knew anything about Mr. Darcy and his reputation in either Lambton or London or the reply she had just received from Mrs. Gardiner in which she found that Mr. Darcy (whose mother was the youngest sister of the Earl of Matlock) had a reputation for being a good landlord and master, scrupulous in attention to his duties, and that in London he had a reputation for being reserved and fastidious, no indications of any disreputable or dissolute behavior.

There were no scandals attached to his name, though there were rumors involving the son of the family's late steward who apparently had grown a bit wild and with whom Mr. Darcy had thoroughly disassociated himself. Since that was all in line with what he had told her himself, it was good to know that her changed opinion was confirmed. She had been rather shaken to realize that her initial opinion was so inaccurate, and thus to have another trusted opinion that Mr. Darcy was as honest and honorable as he now seemed made her regain a little of her old confidence. That really was all. A perfectly understandable reaction to recent upheavals.

Still, she found life was missing something. Of course, Jane was preoccupied with Mr. Bingley and to a lesser extent his sisters. Mary's time was occupied by their mother as her nuptials were so near and Mr. Collins was as voluble a correspondent as he was a speaker, taking advantage of the rights of an engaged man, though he had been thoughtful enough to leave with Mr. Bennet a suitable sum to pay the postage for his letters. That showed a thoughtfulness she had not thought him capable of, but then Mary seemed to bring out the best in their cousin. But still, Mary had not much free time to spare. And as for Kitty and Lydia, their minds were occupied with ribbons and officers and had not any room nor interest in their sisters.

Unfortunately, the lack of Mr. Darcy's presence did lead to her being forced to listen to too much about lace as Mrs. Bennet required an extra set of hands for some of the preparations and she would not call upon Jane since that might keep her out of Mr. Bingley's company and neither Kitty or Lydia would sit still long enough to be at all useful despite their greater interest in the topic. Nevertheless, she could not in all honesty cry off and leave Mary to face her mother's fussing alone. As she and Mary had found more common ground of late, it would be unkind to desert her now. It was a pity that it only highlighted how much more welcome was the company of Mr. Darcy by comparison.

This morning she had managed to escape the bustle of wedding planning for the nonce and found herself staring out the window, wishing she could go out for a walk. Yesterday, Mr. Bingley had indicated that Mr. Darcy was expected to arrive from London with his sister and his cousin, Col. Fitzwilliam, and she was too agitated to be of any use to her mother, who was excited by the new addition to the Netherfield party. She was in a dither on whether he would be best for either Kitty or Lydia, and then she considered how much was still left to accomplish for Mary's wedding and Bingley's continual attentions to Jane which had not yet resulted in a proposal, and she was off in a dozen different directions. Elizabeth felt it was safest to stay out of the way. That she ended up at the window which would give her the best view of any approaching visitor was something she preferred not to dwell on.

However, her vigil soon bore results as she saw a carriage pulling down the drive. It took all her force of will to not move from the spot, until called by her mother once she realized that visitors had arrived. Elizabeth told herself that her heart was beating more rapidly because of her mother's agitation, not because she was eager to see Mr. Darcy again as well as nervous about meeting his relatives though she did doubt that he would bring Miss Darcy with him on this visit. While she no longer held a firm conviction on the validity of first impressions, she did feel concerned about the impressions she and her family would make on his. As she braced herself for their meeting, she tried telling herself that if he were going to be put off by her family, it would have happened already, and if he could be influenced by his own, then he would not be worth regretting. It did not particularly soothe her.

Mr. Bingley was the first to appear in the room. Elizabeth could not help but hear her mother's excited voice which indicated that Mr. Darcy's cousin was with him. Elizabeth's gaze however went immediately to Mr. Darcy when he entered the room. Neither could she help the smile that appeared nor that it widened when met with an answering smile from Mr. Darcy. She paid bare attention during the introductions to Col. Fitzwilliam who was almost immediately surrounded by Kitty and Lydia who both inundated him with questions. He seemed pleasant and gentlemanlike and more than capable of dealing with her sisters' attentions in a reasonably polite manner.

However, she was best pleased when Mr. Darcy sat with her on the sofa near the window out of the way of the other conversations. She asked about his journey and his sister. He indicated that she was somewhat fatigued from the journey having just recovered from a cold, and that he hoped to be able to introduce her on the next day as Bingley had brought an invitation for Jane and her to come to tea at Netherfield. There was a part of Elizabeth that wondered if Mr. Darcy was not simply trying to be diplomatic in his reluctance to make an introduction between Miss Darcy and her in the somewhat overwhelming presence of her family.

If he was, Elizabeth could hardly blame him, as she herself would not particularly want her first meeting with the reputedly shy girl to be around her mother, but as she would never say such a thing and would take offense at being told such a thing, she could appreciate Mr. Darcy giving a perfectly good and polite reason for their meeting to take place at Netherfield, and of course, for all she knew, it could very well be the complete truth, as he did seem honest to a fault.

"I look forward to meeting Miss Darcy," she said.

"And she looks forward to it as well," Mr. Darcy said. "In fact, if she had had her way, either you would have been invited today, or she would have come if able."

"Instead you brought your cousin," Elizabeth said in a light and teasing voice. "I wonder you had not mentioned him as being part of your party when you left."

"He was a last minute addition," Darcy said. "He was to have spent time with his parents, only he does not get on with some of the guests, and as he shares guardianship of my sister with me, with Bingley's permission, I brought him along."

"He seems to be getting on quite well with my sisters," she said.

Mr. Darcy looked over with a slight frown. "He is easy among company, and does enjoy conversing with young ladies, but there is no harm in him."

"I did not suppose there was," Elizabeth said. "Though considering his profession, I might hope that if there is no harm there is a strong spirit of self defense."

He smiled. "Yes, well, in matters of his profession, I will have to admit he is not harmless and does have a rather strong spirit of self-preservation along with his bravery."

"Then it is good to know that England's defense is in good hands," Elizabeth said. She paused for a moment wondering if there was any way to determine if Col. Fitzwilliam had another reason for coming other than Miss Darcy. "I suppose you and the colonel must be close, sharing guardianship of your sister as you do."

"Yes, quite close, as he was also my father's godson," he said. "He shares the family tendency towards forthrightness though it is tempered a bit more than some of us. He is honest in his opinions and almost incapable of deceit, which perhaps is not the best characteristic of a soldier." There was a trace of humor in his voice.

"Well, I imagine that battles can be rather straightforward, and that is where he serves best," she said. "And as to forthrightness, I have found that yours seems capable of being channeled in more pleasant ways when you put your mind to it." Feeling slightly uncertain, she wondered if Mr. Darcy was hinting that Col. Fitzwilliam was there as a family judge on her suitability or if she was reading too much into his presence.

"I am afraid that it is only recently that I have discovered the value of pleasing honesty," he said. "It required a rather particular motivation."

"Did it indeed?" Elizabeth asked somewhat less steadily than she hoped, but in an effort to disguise it she said more brightly than she felt, "Well, I have only recently learned that first impressions are not necessarily as infallible as I previously believed, and that required perhaps not a particular motivation but a particular stimulus, which I suppose makes things somewhat equal between us, would you not agree?"

His smile broadened slightly. "Yes, I would. In point of fact, I consider a great..."

"What would you consider, cousin?" came the voice of Col. Fitzwilliam much to Elizabeth's displeasure, as the conversation had just gotten interesting.

"It hardly matters, cousin," Mr. Darcy replied somewhat acerbically, apparently as little pleased as Elizabeth to be interrupted.

"Oh, I am sure it does," the Colonel replied, as he sat down on the chair nearest Elizabeth's end of the sofa. "But no matter, since I am come to keep you from monopolizing this charming young lady's company. I would not leave her to become bored."

"Mr. Darcy is hardly dull, Col. Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said. "I find his conversation more than entertaining enough unaided; certainly there is no need to pull yourself away from other company for such a purpose."

The colonel grinned a bit. "Perhaps I merely wish to speak with all the ladies of the household today?"

"There is my eldest sister just over there with Mr. Bingley. Perhaps she would have well served your purpose next."

"But it is not nearly so entertaining as teasing my cousin," he said.

"I find that hard to believe, Fitzwilliam," Darcy said. "You seem to find entertainment in any society."

"And you in very select, so naturally I must indulge my curiosity on the subject."

"I hardly see anything to be curious about," Elizabeth said.

"You know, Miss Elizabeth, it is very fitting that you should find my cousin's conversation entertaining. I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say that you have enjoyed far more of it than any other charming young lady ever has. I found that very curious."

"Indeed? Then you must not be acquainted with Miss Bingley, who seems quite enraptured by Mr. Darcy's conversations as well as his skill with a pen," Elizabeth said, deliberately misconstruing Col. Fitzwilliam's statement. "In fact it is quite my impression that there are many young women eager to enjoy his conversation given the opportunity. I do believe that it hardly makes me stand out at all. A pity since I do hate to be commonplace."

"That you could never be, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said.

"I heartily agree," Col. Fitzwilliam said warmly as he rose to stand in front of Elizabeth. "And as much as I enjoy conversation as entertaining as Darcy's and as charming as yours, I believe I should return to my original purpose. After all as you suggested, my afternoon would not be complete without making the acquaintance of your elder sister. If you will excuse me, Miss Elizabeth." Col Fitzwilliam bowed and then turned toward Darcy.

"If she does not, I certainly do," Darcy said quietly.

"We certainly will not keep you from the pleasure of speaking with Jane and Mr. Bingley," Elizabeth said with a smile.

Col Fitzwilliam smiled wryly at the couple before starting to leave. But before he did, he eased in a little closer to his cousin. "Most definitely not commonplace," he whispered, though loud enough for Elizabeth to hear, and without another word, made his way to the other side of the room, where he seemed to take pleasure in interrupting Bingley and Jane's conversation.

Observing Darcy's sly grin, Elizabeth thought. Thank goodness, he isn't either.

~o~O~o~

Wickham once again made his way to the Montcraven townhouse, but as it was during regular visiting hours, he had no need for additional discretion. He was feeling confident that everything was going his way. Aside from his nightly visits which she seemed pleased with though she was far more demanding than any of his usual lovers, he had also been her escort to a few more social functions where he believed he carried off his role to perfection. Now he need only find a proper way to indicate that he wished to be more than a simple gentleman friend. Perhaps today would be the day.

He was admitted, taken to the morning room and told to wait a moment as Mrs. Montcraven was seeing to a matter of business. After several minutes, Wickham wandered to the window and looked out into the street with the hope of getting an idea of who her business was with if he was not able to see them while they were within. Hearing movements in the hallway, he stayed in position long enough to see two nondescript men exiting the house and walking off in separate directions. Not very useful at all, though one looked like he might be a solicitor. In another minute, the door opened, he was directed to the mistress's study.

Mrs. Montcraven, looking very business like in a dark blue morning dress, was seated at the desk when he entered, but after tidying a small pile of papers in front of her, she rose and moved to one of the chairs on the other side of the desk, though as it was a rather imposing looking seat, it did not make her seem any less formidable, and he was rather concerned that she had chosen it rather than the more companionable sofa near it. The small chair she gestured him to also added to his sense of unease.

"Is there anything amiss, dearest?" he said as he tried not to squirm under her gaze.

"No, there is not," she said. "I merely felt that as there is some business to be discussed between us that this would be the most appropriate location."

Wickham had to fight not to break out into a broad grin at her words. Business was a good sign. However, he kept his voice even as he spoke. "What kind of business would that be?"

Resting her arms regally on the chair arms, Mrs. Montcraven said, "After consideration of your character and talents and having a good idea of how you can perform in public and private, I have come to the decision that you would make an acceptable husband, and I wished to have you here so that we could discuss all the ramifications and conditions of such a union."

Wickham was speechless. He had known that it would not be a simple matter to propose to her, but to have her take the lead so thoroughly flummoxed him. However, he knew that he needed to respond, so he left his chair and got on his knees before Mrs. Montcraven and kissed her hand. "Dearest, I am so delighted to hear this. I had wanted so much to propose but had not the temerity..."

"Please leave off the protestations for the nonce. There is time enough for it later. I would rather get to the business at hand, and while I have no doubt of your acceptance of the terms of this arrangement, I want to discuss them thoroughly so that you have no cause to complain that you were unaware of what you are to expect and receive once we are married."

"Of course, there is no cause to doubt me, dearest," Wickham said. "I live to make you happy, and nothing would make me happier than being your husband."

"Then that shall make this discussion easy," she said. "Do sit down. I do not require you to look like a puppy while we speak."

He moved back to the chair, more than a little concerned with what he was going to hear.

"Now, I will expect you to hear me out without interruption, as I do not wish to lose the train of my thoughts," she said, and once he nodded his head she began. "As you may or may not know, my father Sir Richard Montcraven left me the entirety of the family fortune and made certain that I would always be able to control it regardless of my marital state. I will not trouble you with all the technical details as they do not concern you; simply understand that when we are married, my fortune continues to be my own. You will be given an appropriate allowance commensurate with your position, and your clothes will be made at the same tailor who served both my father and the first Mr. Montcraven. Which leads me to the next point, that you will be expected to take on the Montcraven name rather than I take on yours. The Montcravens are an old and very well respected family. As you know, the Wickhams are not."

Wickham was not happy with the information he was being given. No control, an allowance that he was sure would be inadequate to his needs, a name change, though he felt he should not have been surprised about that last as he had known that her first husband had changed his name from Windermere to Montcraven when they had married.

"Dearest, surely you trust me better than this," he started.

"George Wickham," she interrupted, as she rose from her chair and moved back to her desk, "do not for the moment believe that I am ignorant of your past conduct and behavior. You were thoroughly investigated before I allowed Mrs. Younge to arrange our introduction."

What the deuce? He thought Lucy had been working for his benefit.

"You have an unfortunate habit of leaving gaming and tradesman's debts behind you. I know in fact that there are a number of... gentlemen seeking you for either money or retribution for your behavior with the women of their families. Of course, I will settle up any outstanding debts before the marriage. Any other claims, I will deal with as I see best, though you might consider that your change of name may aid you there. In any event, you will no longer have any need to run up debt as I will be paying all the bills, and any gambling will be done at your club under the auspices of a gentleman of my choosing, and it will come from your allowance. Also, while I have no interest in your past dalliances except insofar as they might affect me in the future, I will expect that all your favors belong to me. Any infidelity on your part will be grounds for cutting your allowance and luxuries. What is mine is mine alone. I trust you understand."

Wickham was appalled. This was not what he expected at all, yet there were his debts, some of which were becoming quite pressing and would not be covered by the funds he had left. And he suspected Mrs. Montcraven knew that very well indeed. How had she learned all this? Then there was the matter of other women. While Mrs. Montcraven certainly had a healthy enough appetite, the very thought of being confined to one woman... yet surely after a certain amount of time married, she'd relax her vigilance enough for him to find some discreet pleasure elsewhere.

He still had not spoken, and she did not seem to expect a reply as yet, since she simply picked up some papers from her desk and slid them towards him.

"Here are the various documents that lay down the conditions of our marriage as well as my current information regarding the debts that need to be paid; if anything has been left off please feel free to add it, as I want an accurate accounting before we wed as anything you reveal after the wedding will come from your own funds. I am sure you will want your own solicitor to look them over for their legality and to explain them. If you have any questions about the nature of the trust or how my money will be distributed in the event of my demise— I have some distant cousins in Scotland who will receive the bulk of my estate, the remainder is divided among various servants— I will perhaps reconsider my will after ten years of marriage; Godfrey only lasted eight. Be very assured that I do know what I want and what to do with my property."

Wickham understood very well what she meant. He would have to follow her wishes or be left wanting, and if anything happened to her (and he was not a violent man at heart), he would be left with whatever small provision she left for him. However, much as he disliked being caged in in this manner, he liked poverty even less, and he was sure that with his charm he could certainly gain more than he was being offered at this moment.

"Dearest, all this is so very unnecessary," he said. "I merely wish to be the husband of the most entrancing woman I have ever met."

"Still I would not have you sign blind. Take this to your solicitor or mine. Mr. Thatcher is scrupulously honest and would not mislead you." She looked at him coolly. "Once you agree I will have him see to the application for a special license that we may be married from this house without any particular delay."

Glancing at the papers, Wickham could make little sense of anything other than his allowance provision which seemed quite generous at the moment. "Well, dearest, while I do not believe I need this, since you insist, I will speak to Mr. Thatcher. That you trust him is enough for me." He did not add that he knew no lawyers of his own; at least none that he would trust to explain this. Mrs. Montcraven might be many things but he trusted her to mean exactly what she said, so having her solicitor explain his work seemed the best option he had.

~o~O~o~

Elizabeth looked out of the window of the same guest room she had resided in during her last stay at Netherfield, noting the heavy rain and was torn between sighing and smiling. Once again her mother had gotten her way. Elizabeth had not liked the look of the weather as she and Jane prepared for their visit, but when she tentatively suggested to her mother that the visit should perhaps be canceled, Mrs. Bennet was most vociferous in her refusal. After all, while he was still showing all the signs of infatuation, Mr. Bingley had not yet proposed to Jane, and Mrs. Bennet would not allow anything to prevent any opportunity for Jane to be in his company.

Under the circumstances, Elizabeth had been glad that Mr. Darcy had arranged for his carriage to come and fetch them, as she certainly did not want a repeat of Jane's fateful first visit to Netherfield Park, not that the notion of spending more time in Mr. Darcy's company particularly vexed her, but she certainly would not wish for Jane to suffer again because of her mother's judgement. However, the planned visit had gone very well, even with the heavens opening up and sending down an icy rain, leaving Mr. Bingley no choice but to invite them to stay the night.

Elizabeth had been quite pleased to meet Miss Darcy who indeed was not nearly so formidable as her brother, rather quite shy and very sweet and apparently eager to approve of her. Even Miss Bingley was tolerable enough, once Col. Fitzwilliam made it a point to engage her in conversation and encourage her to play for the group thus leaving the others to their own devices, though beforehand she had shown quite a determination to draw every bit of the Darcys' attention to herself. Of course, Elizabeth felt all the irony of her having the exact same desire as Miss Bingley but consoled herself that in her case it was reciprocal rather than one-sided. At least she hoped she did not delude herself on the matter.

However, now at the end of a mostly wonderful day, Elizabeth knew she was too excited to sleep and regretted that she had come upstairs without checking the library for something to read. It had a poor selection, but there were definitely books that would be dull enough to lull her into a sense of sleep, and she recalled a novel that was intriguing enough that if tedium were not enough to soothe her would be enough to distract her from her thoughts of Mr. Darcy which were becoming alarmingly overwhelming. It was not that she thought she was in love with him, though having no real experience with love she was not entirely sure what it should feel like. Yet she could no longer doubt his interest in her and that it seemed genuine and honorable.

Elizabeth shook her head. It would do no good to continue to dwell on this, as it was getting quite late, and if she were going to get a book, it would be better to go down now before she finally changed into her borrowed nightgown. Not wanting to draw any attention at this hour, she first peeked out to see that the hall was empty and then crept as quietly as she could down to the library by the light of her candle. There was still a glow from the fire to aid it in somewhat dispelling the darkness. Relieved to have successfully reached her goal without incident, she immediately crossed to the shelf that she recalled held the books she was looking for.

Setting her candle on a nearby table, she started to reach for the books, when she heard a small cough behind her. Whirling around, she was startled to see Mr. Darcy standing behind her, and she wondered how she could not have noticed the light from his own candle which he set down next to hers. She noted he too was fully dressed, though his neckcloth was loosely tied.

"I see you too have come looking for reading material," he said after what seemed like several minutes of their staring at one another in silence.

"It was too difficult to sleep," she stammered out. He seemed far too close at the moment and his expression far too intent.

"We are very similar indeed, Miss Elizabeth. I left a book down here and thought it might help." A slight smile played on his lips. "I did not expect to meet anyone else, but I cannot say that I am displeased to see you."

Elizabeth felt as if her wits had melted away. It was rather improper for them to be together like this, but she hardly wanted to move. "Nor am I displeased to see you," she finally said, before hurrying to add, "I was very glad to meet your sister today." Finding her courage returning, she said, "I find that you were correct that she is not nearly so formidable as her brother. She is very sweet."

"And I am not... sweet?" he teased.

"Would you truly wish to be considered sweet, sir?" she asked.

She was surprised by the thoughtful expression that appeared on his face. "I suppose it would rather depend on the context," he said. "But you are correct that in this one I would not like to be considered sweet. But I also would not wish you to find me formidable, Miss Elizabeth."

Somehow the atmosphere seemed to be getting thicker, and Elizabeth knew that she really should grab her books and leave and yet she found herself speaking what would perhaps be safer unsaid. "What would you wish me to find you, Mr. Darcy?"

"Irresistible," he said huskily.

At this Elizabeth blushed and began to turn with the notion of leaving the library, but Mr. Darcy quickly grabbed her hands to keep her from moving.

"No, please, forgive me," he said, his face suffused with a blush of its own. "That was too forward. However, I find I cannot..." He paused for a moment still keeping her hands in his. Elizabeth found herself once again caught by his gaze, as he began speaking again. "I know I should be more patient, that it was not that long ago when I still required a pardon for my rude and disagreeable behavior. And while I know that you may require more time, I find I cannot leave you in any doubt of my intentions..." He stopped again, this time closing his eyes and swallowing before looking back into her eyes. "You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

While not entirely unexpected Elizabeth was still stunned by the sentiment and stood speechless as he continued.

"As I said, I know I have not been on my best behavior while here nor have I truly courted you as much as you deserve, but as you are aware, I am not the most loquacious of suitors. However, I do know that you are the only woman who has thus touched my heart and despite every bit of foolishness in our time together, every time I sought to judge your worth not on your own merit but on the more shallow standards of society, I found your power over me growing stronger, and I have realized that there is nothing I want more than for you to be my wife, if you will have me."

Elizabeth had to close her eyes, as she was overwhelmed by his words. She knew she quite liked him, that she felt a greater contentment in his presence of late, that she had come to admire him, and certainly in a material sense it was more than improbable that she could ever find a better suitor. However, marriage was a very great step, not one that should be decided at the spur of the moment. And yet...

She could feel his grip tighten on her hands and she opened her eyes to see genuine anxiety in his own.

"I hardly know what to say, sir," Elizabeth said. "I am honored by your proposal, and so very, very tempted to say yes right now. However..." She saw how his expression changed from anxiety to happiness to uncertainty, and she hated to see that but she pressed on, "However, marriage is the most important decision a woman can make. It is putting her very life into a man's hands, and if he ends up regretting..."

"Elizabeth," he said urgently, "the only thing I would regret is losing the chance to gain your affections. I understand that you are not quite ready to answer the question, but I did not want to leave you in any suspense about the sincerity of my wishes. I am not a man given to flights of fancy or even infatuation. My affections are not easily given and even less easily dissolved, and any vow I make I keep." He looked at her intensely. "I know I am a rather dull fellow, truly a country gentleman at heart. My life has been and will be about duty, honor, and responsibility, and truly there is no greater duty than marrying the woman I have come to both love and respect."

"You are not dull at all," Elizabeth said, somewhat breathlessly. "I admire a man who takes his responsibilities seriously." A strange warmth seemed to envelop her, and in a burst of honesty, she said, "When you were away, everything else seemed dull."

His sudden smile threatened to undo her. "Did it?"

Elizabeth nodded slightly before looking away in sudden embarrassment.

His hand gently touched her cheek, turning her back to face him. "I felt very much the same while I was gone. To know you missed me as well, there is but one thing that could make me happier at this moment and that is to know your heart is mine as mine is yours, but I can wait."

"I do not think that you will have to wait long," she whispered.

He caught up her hand and impulsively kissed it. Then he said softly, "We should retire while I can still remain something of a gentleman."

"I believe perhaps you are correct," she said, as her hand almost felt as if it burned from his kiss. Almost reluctantly she turned back to the shelf to pick up her books, though she did not particularly pay attention to see if she grabbed the correct ones. Mr. Darcy's presence seemed to fill the room. "Good night." She almost stumbled as she made to leave.

"Wait... Your candle." He picked up from the table.

"Of course," she said, taking it from him.

"Good night, Elizabeth," he said.

Elizabeth was unsure how she managed to make it back to her room, but clearly she did and somehow managed to change into her borrowed night dress, but she found it impossible to concentrate on a book or anything else other than Mr. Darcy and his proposal. Could she really trust this change of feelings on her part? Could she really have fallen in love so quickly, and if she had could she trust that feeling, especially since she had not been truly correct in her first judgement of him? Yes, he was proud, very proud, but he was not the deeply unpleasant person she had assumed him to be, and having known him better, she thought better of him and in fact now more than liked him. Was this love?

She tried imagining saying no to him and sending him away and was taken aback by the sudden wave of pain. She then tried imagining marrying him and moving into his far more elevated circles and while there was a part of her made uneasy with the thought of dealing with people who would most likely resent her for marrying him, possibly even some of his family as Mr. Collins, despite his intentions, had made Mr. Darcy's aunt sound a formidable and unpleasant lady who would probable disapprove of any one less than the daughter of a peer for her nephew. And she was unaware of the opinions of his uncle the earl. But somehow the thought of facing those issues with Mr. Darcy at her side made them seem less consequential than letting him go. She was no coward after all.

But would he regret her? That was far more important to her. Somehow she felt that even if he had regrets he would still treat her with respect. No, she didn't just feel it, she knew he would. But that was only part of it. She wanted more than just the show of respect. She wanted it in truth.

Still, she knew what she was feeling for him and couldn't help thinking that all her apprehensions and worries were surely exaggerated or of no ultimate consequence. That is... so long as he was feeling the same.

~to be continued~

Next Up: Chapter 8 - Answering the Question.

End Notes:

I did enjoy writing Elizabeth being oh so determined to not be pining when she is in fact pining. But then she spends a lot of time in the novel in denial about things that are obvious in hindsight, and here Darcy has already made his decision. But of course, I was going to have their conversation interrupted again, as luck isn't entirely playing on their side, or perhaps luck is attempting to increase their suspense by... suspense or perhaps suspending their conversations. Though sadly, I will admit that I have had great difficulty finding ways to end their scenes in this story, so it is in fact more due to the incompetence of the author rather than any actual cleverness. This comes from the fact that I wasn't expecting to expand this so much, and it was basically meant to be a fluff piece, about as substantial as cotton candy; maybe the Wickham part would be more licorice (I can't stand licorice myself).

Anyway, as I was expanding the story, I once again was wondering why Col. Fitzwilliam was Georgiana's co-guardian. I know there are a lot of explanations bandied about including dissolute elder brothers and uncles, but here I decided to go with the elder Darcy being the Colonel's godfather and having a closer relationship with him that led him to choosing him for the responsibility. But whatever the reason it is certainly not for his ability to keep a secret.

I had a lot of fun writing Mrs. Montcraven's proposal to Wickham (this was in fact so much easier to write than their courtship that it practically flowed from my fingertips). She was particularly designed to be the perfect woman to keep him in line for the rest of his life, and I feel I'm being quite kind to him, giving him a gilded cage to dwell in (he might not agree after all, but that's his problem). She knows what he is, and she knows what she has, and she's giving him the opportunity to take her offer or leave it. Weirdly as I was writing, it struck me that she was not unlike a dark version of Darcy, with all the pride and certainty that her proposal, blunt as it was, would be accepted before it clicked that she was far more like Lady Catherine in her desire to surround herself with sycophancy, since the independence that Darcy admires in Elizabeth, Mrs. Montcraven would hate in Wickham, and she would merely dismiss any set down along the lines of Hunsford as the rantings of a conceited mind (yeah, a case of pot-kettle if there ever was one). In any event, I definitely was intending to reverse the usual gender roles in this particular circumstance, as by every measure of law, Mrs. Montcraven's fortune is protected against usurpation by anyone especially a husband.

Also, I am aware that a special license was not as easy to acquire as it seems to be in many fanfictions requiring both money and connections, and because of that I was initially going to have her simply get a common license (as she would have no desire to have the banns read nor to wish to go to the trouble of heading to Scotland). However, I considered the fact that Mrs. Montcraven does have both and as well as no desire to have anyone not of her choosing bearing witness to her nuptials. She knows who and what she's marrying and this is her second marriage, so she has no desire for a public show which means she would need the license to be able to marry when and where she chooses, which would of course not be possible with the common license, hence special license. She does like to be in control as Wickham has now learned.

Although I mentioned it in the original version, I suppose I should mention now that Maria Montcraven was in part inspired by (and got her first name from) the character of Maria Wislack from the film On Approval (1944). She really is a selfish harridan and combined with the equally insufferably self-absorbed Duke of Bristol, whose first name happens to be George, they manage to make the two people who think they are in love with them wake up and realize how lucky they are not to be married to them. Her last name comes from the fact I wanted her name to have Craven in it and I added the Mont to soften it, and well, I do like alliteration. However, Maria isn't purely based on any one fictional harridan. She was basically meant to be a woman who would keep Wickham on a short leash for the rest of his life, and thus free Darcy from ever having to worry about him again. I know I shouldn't like Mrs. Montcraven, as she really is a horribly cold, narcissistic person, and I don't like her as a person, but as a character, I do enjoy writing her.

I know it's a bit cliche to have Darcy and Elizabeth's big moment happen in the library, but I can't help that it seems the best place at Netherfield for accidental late night meetings, and I am also particularly fond of all those conveniently fallen logs that couples find to have a seat on for important conversations. Someone once said, "You say trope: I say well-honed tool." I wish I could remember who that was.

In any event, my original plan was for Darcy to wait until after Christmas for his proposal (when inspired a little bit by Emma I intended to strand the eldest Bennet daughters by a sudden snow), but he insisted he didn't want to wait, even if it meant a longer engagement or even a longer wait for the answer to his question, so who am I to argue with Darcy? I left that to Elizabeth, who despite my previous intentions wasn't quite ready to say yes without thinking things over. She wanted both her heart and mind to be in agreement, sense and sensibility combined, I guess to make up for all that previous pride and prejudice.


And of course, all feedback is welcome, but reviews, even one or two word ones, are even more appreciated.