The rain only misted around the couple as they walked arm-in-arm in the garden. Elizabeth smiled affectionately at Mr. Darcy. "How could you have begun to care for me?" she asked. "My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners - my behavior to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain."

Mr. Darcy met her gaze, his eyes soft. "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation," he said. "It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

"Now be sincere, Mr. Darcy; did you admire me for my impertinence?''

"For the liveliness of your mind, I did.''

Elizabeth shook her head. "You may as well call it impertinence at once. It was very little less. To be sure, you knew no actual good of me - but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.''

"Was there no good in your affectionate behavior to Jane, while she was ill at Netherfield?" Mr. Darcy said.

"Dearest Jane! Who could have done less for her?" A playful sparkle came into her eye. "But make a virtue of it by all means. My good qualities are under your protection, and you are to exaggerate them as much as possible; and, in return, it belongs to me to find occasions for teasing and quarreling with you as often as may be. I shall begin directly by asking you - what made you so shy of me, when you first called, and afterwards dined here? Why especially, when you called, did you look as if you did not care about me?"

"Because you were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement."

"But I was embarrassed," Elizabeth said.

"And so was I."

"You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner."

"A man who had felt less, might," Mr. Darcy said earnestly.

Elizabeth blushed slightly. "How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give, and that I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But tell me, what did you come down to Netherfield for? Was it merely to ride to Longbourn and be embarrassed? Or had you intended any more serious consequence?"

Mr. Darcy stopped walking and took her hand in his. "I avowed to myself that my purpose was to see whether your sister were still partial to Bingley." His other hand he placed on her cheek. "My real purpose," Mr. Darcy said, "was to see you, and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me."

She kissed him sweetly without any care of the rain which was now starting to fall in earnest.

"Cut! That was beautiful. One more take and we'll break for lunch."

"Marinette?"

"Hmm?"

"You look cold," Adrien said, holding out a dry towel.

Marinette smiled and took it. "Thanks."

"Yeah...no problem."

Out the corner of his eye he could see her chewing on her lip, like she was trying to decide whether to speak. "It's good to work with you again," she said finally.

"Oh. Yeah, you too."

"Is this really our fourth project together?"

He smiled, a little hesitantly. "Crazy, huh?"

"Crazy," she agreed. "I think this is the last one we have lined up for a while."

Adrien cleared his throat. "Yeah, I think so." Did that sound casual enough? He didn't want her to guess that it was all he'd been able to think about since the first day of shooting. He fidgeted. "I suppose it is."

"Crazy," she repeated.

The silence was tense, but Adrien didn't know how to fill it. Marinette didn't say anything more.

They prepared for the next take. The rain began again. Adrien took a deep breath and tried to get in character.

His characters had always felt so real to Adrien. He should have been taking on an act, but it always felt like dropping one.

He was Gabriel Agreste's son. He would be on display no matter what. At least this way no one was actually seeing him. He was not wearing Adrien's clothes, he was not speaking Adrien's words. He had freedom.

When the cameras were on he could be someone with different problems, who wasn't necessarily dealing with the pressure of the public eye or the expectations of his father or the contempt of the woman he admired most ardently.

He could be a lovesick Italian youth, he could be a socially awkward Austen hero. First impressions could be changed. Conflicts could be resolved. He could be in love with Marinette - she could be in love back -

"No thanks. Please don't talk to me. I had to work my butt off to get here, Adrien. We don't all have famous last names."

"From the very beginning of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others. I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever marry."

He ached, looking at her, seeing Marinette when he should have seen Elizabeth. You have bewitched me, body and soul...

The cameras rolled. They did the scene again.

Notes:

Listen, forget this au. What I need now is a P&P au.

The next chapter is the last one!

Scream with me on tumblr - I'm peggiecarter :)