A/N: Thank you for your very kind words! And to answer a question: yes, this story really is completed! I am uploading a few chapters a day (or as many as my little kids will allow me; my one little kiddo is clinging to my back and asking me "Who is Darcy?" as I type).

I should be finished uploading Snowbound with Darcy over the next two-three days. I would publish my other works here, but I must admit (**blushes wildly**) that they are...intimate. Apologies to all JA purists. :) But don't worry, this story is CLEAN! If memory serves, there IS one slightly romantic moment coming soon, but nothing that would be labeled "mature"!

And with that (and no child crawling on me), let us return to a snow-covered Netherfield...

Chapter 5: Elizabeth

"Look at all that snow," Jane sighed. "Everything's transformed. It's like a fairy world outside."

Elizabeth crossed the elegant bedroom to stand next to her sister by the window. They had been given a well-appointed suite last night—or, really, very early this morning. But in their exhaustion, the girls had fallen into bed as soon as they'd gotten their dresses off. Elizabeth hadn't had time to appreciate the beauty of the room.

The walls were cream, and all the bed linens were a thick, matching brocade. Every aspect of the room was well designed and feminine. It was quiet, meaning either that the walls were thicker than at Longbourn—or that their mother and sisters had been placed in rooms quite far off. Both Jane and Lizzy had slept in, not accustomed to such a thick mattress or such a peaceful morning.

And now, outside, all of Netherfield's gardens stretched out before them—covered in a thick, white mantle.

"A frozen fairy world," Elizabeth agreed. "I can't believe it. Such a terrible storm. And so early in the season."

"Yes." Jane nodded and self-consciously touched her hair, which was still half-pinned from last night. "I feel awful that we had to spend the night at Netherfield. Poor Mr. Bingley, having to take care of me again—I still cannot believe that Mama made me walk here in the rain."

Elizabeth went back to her perch, on an overstuffed chair by the fireplace. "I don't think you need to apologize. Did you see how happy Mr. Bingley was last night, knowing you were to sleep under his roof? If he had his choice, I'm sure he would have Mama force you to march here in rain, snow, or hail—anything so that you might catch another cold and be bedridden at Netherfield."

Jane blushed. "Oh, don't tease me, Lizzy."

"I'm not! But you will need to apologize when we see him at lunch."

Jane's eyes widened and she looked panicked. "Whatever for?"

"For the rest of your family. I fear Kitty and Lydia will be wild. And let us just agree to keep Mary away from the pianoforte?" Her sister's terrified expression made Elizabeth stop laughing. "Darling Jane, I was only teasing. I'm sure we will all be on our best behavior. I daresay, today Mama will reprimand even Lydia—for a change. Anything to ensure we impress your future husband."

Jane threw herself into the matching chair, opposite Elizabeth, and took her cup of hot chocolate from the side table. "Lizzy, stop. You don't know the pressure I'm under. No one expects you to marry well—" Jane stopped speaking suddenly, and took another sip of her drink. "I meant to say, Mama expects me, as the oldest, to marry well. Of course you will marry well. Of course you will."

Elizabeth nodded, picking up her own cup of hot chocolate. It had been served in a fine teacup, so thin and delicate that she feared her grip might shatter it into a thousand pieces. And after Jane's comment, her heart felt that way, as well.

Elizabeth knew Jane didn't intend to be cruel. And it was true. Elizabeth was not the beauty of the family; her mother had always made sure she knew that. Jane's face could launch a thousand ships. Kitty was not yet sixteen and grown men looked at her on the streets. Lydia's lively nature made up for her slightly crooked nose. And Mary…

Well, Mama never mentioned Mary, not really.

But Elizabeth's mother had always been quite keen on pointing out Elizabeth's faults. Elizabeth was too short and too skinny. She did not fill out a dress, and her hair was neither straight nor curly. She walked too much and had a plethora of freckles in the summertime. Her eyes were plain brown, and she found everything amusing and used words with entirely too many syllables.

No, their mother did not expect Elizabeth to marry well. But she did expect her to marry whomever Mrs. Bennet directed her to. And this week, that person was Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth glanced up at Jane. It was rare that she felt jealous of her sister—it was rarer still that Jane was not the sweetest, kindest person imaginable. And then Elizabeth saw that Jane's eyes were full of tears!

"Jane, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Lizzy. I didn't mean to be thoughtless. I just can't—I just can't stand it! Mama will be watching me, watching every single thing I do and say today! And Papa, and Mr. Bingley, and his sisters. To be stranded at Netherfield once was hard enough. Now we are all here and I will be on display, as Mama waits for me to make Mr. Bingley fall in love with me. What if he doesn't? And yes, Mary cannot play the pianoforte! We must stop her!"

Elizabeth put down her teacup and stared at her sister, who appeared on the verge of hysteria. "Jane, calm yourself! No one expects you to make Mr. Bingley fall in love with you. For in truth, he already is in love with you, and everyone can see it! Ignore Mama and just—enjoy getting to know him. You are under no obligation to marry him if you do not like him. You must gain control of your emotions, and this situation."

Jane wiped her cheeks and tilted her eyes to the ceiling, as if she could contain her tears if she looked upwards. "Of course I am under an obligation to marry him. He has five thousand a year. If he offers for me, he will save us all."

Elizabeth shrugged. "Mama expects me to marry Mr. Collins. Don't think I haven't seriously considered it. If I marry our cousin, then we will not lose Longbourn when Papa—when Papa passes. But I'll tell you this, Jane." Elizabeth leaned forward and grabbed her sister's hand. "I cannot. I have tried to make myself amenable to the idea. He has not proposed, but Mama encourages him at every moment—and so I have been forced to imagine becoming Mrs. Collins. And I cannot."

"Lizzy," Jane said quietly. "I know he is not ideal, but…"

"No! He is far from ideal for me, but I am also far from ideal from him. We have only one life to live, Jane. How can I waste it on a man whom I detest, and who would grow to detest me? But you—you are in a different situation entirely! There is a wealthy man who adores you. And now it is up to you to decide if you adore him. For I shall not allow you to marry anyone whom you do not admire."

"Lizzy," Jane whispered. "I do not admire him. I—I love him. At least, I think I do. I believe I could quite fall entirely in love with him. He is everything a gentleman should be, and when I am with him I feel—I feel so light. And free. Like I am flying."

"Well then!" Elizabeth said, sitting back. "I am shocked into silence. No, wait, that was only for a moment. I can speak again."

Jane laughed and curled up onto the chair like a cat. "Lizzy, stop."

"I knew you liked Mr. Bingley well enough. But I did not know you have moved on to a hearty, full-fledge, almost-very-nearly in love state."

Jane's cheeks were red with laughter now. "You are trying to make me laugh, so that I do not cry."

"And you are so wise," Elizabeth said. "Just remember: you love him. I am sure he loves you. So ignore Mama and Mary and all pianofortes everywhere, and simply enjoy this unexpected gift: time. Time with Mr. Bingley."

Jane began to cry again, and at Lizzy's incredulous expression, she both laughed and wept.

"Goodness, what now?" Elizabeth said.

"Now I am crying because I love you so! How lucky I am, to have such a wise, ridiculous sister."

"And I as well! Well, perhaps not the 'wise' part. But you are definitely ridiculous." Elizabeth went to her sister, dropping to her knees and laying her head on Jane's lap. "There, there, you absurd creature," she murmured, hugging her sister's waist until Jane bent over, covering Lizzy and pressing her cheek against Elizabeth's cheek. They both stopped crying and laughing and finally just breathed. Jane's tears wet Lizzy's cheek, and the fire crackled, and finally Jane exhaled shakily.

And then she began to laugh again. "This is a very uncomfortable position, is it not?"

"Thank goodness you said something." Elizabeth smiled as they both sat up. "One more minute down there, and I would have injured myself."

At the word "injury," the smile fell from Elizabeth's face.

"What's wrong now?" Jane said, wiping her tears away and picking up her chocolate. "I thought I was the one being silly and emotional."

"Nothing is wrong," Elizabeth said, going back to her chair. Her hot chocolate was cold now, and a sludge had formed at the top. She put it back on table and stared into the fire. "I just remembered—there is one person who is not happy we are here. And I lied to him last night."

"You lied?"

"Yes. To Mr. Darcy."

"To Mr. Darcy? What did you say?" Jane asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I am ashamed to admit it, but I told him I had injured my ankle while dancing with our dear cousin."

Jane made a face. "It is surprising that you did not injure yourself. Gracious, we must keep Mary away from the pianoforte, and Mr. Collins away from—"

"Everyone!" Elizabeth said.

"Lizzy, that is not very charitable of you."

"And yet, it is true, is it not? But I promise, if it means giving you time to become better acquainted with Mr. Bingley, I will even ask Mr. Collins to—to read Fordyce's sermons to me."

Jane shook her head and stood. "Let us hope that is not necessary. Now tell me, quickly before we must dress, why did you lie to Mr. Darcy? He is quite amenable. I spoke with him often last night."

Elizabeth shook her heard. In the cold—very cold—light of this day, all her warm, jumbled, confused feelings toward Mr. Darcy seemed to fade. Yes, he had been kind to Mrs. Cooper and Mrs. Long, but what kind of monster was mean to humble old women? Elizabeth remembered the way he had looked at her, the very private, strangely wonderful and awful way he had stared—

"You remember," she blurted out. "You remember what he said about me, at the Meryton assembly?"

"Yes, but Lizzy!" Jane sighed. "You must not hold a grudge. Bingley tells me he is somewhat stilted around people he does not know."

"Bingley?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "Not Mr. Bingley, but Bingley?"

"Mr. Bingley." Jane blushed. "It is just that his sisters and Mr. Darcy call him that, and it seems to fit him so well—do not worry, I have never said it to his face."

Elizabeth laughed. "Call him whatever you like. You could call him Mr. Blockhead and he would still think you the most eloquent, gracious woman in the world."

Jane ignored her teasing. "You must cease this anger toward Mr. Darcy. He is kind, I truly believe, if somewhat stiff. And he holds no ill will toward us."

"But then, you did not see his face last night! When the footman came in to tell us we were snowbound!" Elizabeth leaned forward, her face heating at the memory of it. "Jane, I tell you, as soon as Mr. Darcy heard that we were to spend the night—likely more than one night here—his face changed. Before, he had been perfectly acceptable. Not pleasant, of course, the man is never pleasant—"

"Lizzy!"

"But his mien had been that of a perfectly pompous, perfectly fine gentleman. And then we told Mr. Bingley and Mama and Papa that we could not leave, and you should have seen Mr. Darcy. His face just—fell. He looked horrified, Jane. Truly horrified."

"I don't remember this at all, Lizzy."

"You were distracted. And Mr. Bingley was shouting for the housekeeper, and Kitty and Lydia were making a scene. No one saw it—no one but me." Lizzy stopped, suddenly afraid she would reveal herself. No one else had watched Mr. Darcy so closely, had they?

"Then what did he do?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "Nothing. What could he do? But I am not wrong here, Jane. He was affected by us remaining here. And not in a happy way. I cannot explain it, but I know what I saw."

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion, and a young woman's voice called out that she had been sent to help them dress.

"But…we have nothing to wear?" Elizabeth said, picking at her dress from last night. She and Jane had helped each other dress, bemoaning the wrinkles and dirty hems.

Jane shrugged and gave the maid permission to enter, but instead of one lady's maid, two young women entered the room. They explained they had been sent to help the ladies with their hair and dressing.

Elizabeth requested a simple, easy style and did not require that she sit in front of the room's lone looking glass while her maid attended to her hair. Jane was nervous and kept fretting, which caused her maid to stumble and restart a few times.

"I cannot believe this," Jane whispered, as she sat in front of the looking glass and watched her reflection. "Was this not so kind and thoughtful?" Jane caught Lizzy's eye in the mirror, and Elizabeth knew her sister was silently adding, And you thought Caroline Bingley did not like us.

Elizabeth did not reply, but as she sat there and felt the gentle tug of the maid's fingers in her hair, she could not help but imagine what Jane's life would be like should she become mistress of Netherfield. At home, all five girls shared one maid. As such, the girls often helped each other with their hairstyles and dressing. She dared not say that in front of Mr. Bingley's servants, however; it would mortify Jane and she was sure word would somehow get back to Caroline Bingley.

"There you go, Miss Elizabeth. Would you care to check the style before you go down to breakfast?" The maid held up a small looking glass, and Elizabeth was startled at her sleek chignon.

"It looks lovely," she said earnestly. "Thank you."

Both young maids proclaimed it was their pleasure, gathering their supplies once Jane was satisfied with her hair.

"Would you show us the way to the dining room?" Elizabeth asked, and both girls eagerly agreed.

"Do you see how they watch you, subtly but most assuredly?" Elizabeth whispered as they followed the quick-moving maids down the hallway. "It is not Caroline Bingley they answer to, but your 'Bingley.' I'm sure they're both vying to be your lady's maid."

"Lizzy, you're as bad as mama!" Jane laughed. "I don't believe it."

Elizabeth shrugged, content that her sister appeared happy once more. "Well, for once I agree with Mama: while we are trapped here, we might as well make the most of it. You shall have your Bingley, and I shall have more hot cocoa at breakfast!"

She just hoped that Mr. Collins…and Mr. Darcy…had already dined. She did not wish to face either man, knowing they all were trapped together for the foreseeable future.