A/N: Thank you all for reading and commenting! I am learning from your comments, and of course you guys have wonderful ideas. This is a NOVELLA, so it's a bit short, but now of course I wish I had written more and more! Ah well, next time. I have tried to change this story to "In Progress" but for some reason it won't save the category correctly. But, we only have eight more chapters left, so I'll be posting them quickly.

Things speed up now...here we go!

Chapter 12: Elizabeth

"What is the meaning of this?" her father asked, staring in consternation at Mr. Collins, whose mouth had dropped open like a caught trout.

"That is what I should like to know!" Mrs. Bennet cried. "Lizzy, why aren't you crying with happiness?"

"Because I am not happy!" Elizabeth said. "Though I could cry right now."

Mrs. Bennet whirled on Mr. Collins, so swiftly and with so much purpose that he backed up instinctively. He moved so quickly to get away from Mrs. Bennet, that he tripped over a chair and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"Have you asked her yet?" she hissed, standing over the fallen man, who was rubbing his backside and making no move to stand up again.

"I was in the process of doing so! She has rejected me once, but I am well aware that it is usual with young ladies to reject the addresses of the man whom they secretly mean to accept, when he first applies for their favor."

Mr. Bennet groaned and looked Heavenward. "Mrs. Bennet, what have you done?"

"What have I done? What has she done?" her mother cried. "Lizzy, you have ruined all my plans! Say yes to Mr. Collins and make me the happiest of women. Immediately!"

Mr. Collins slowly pulled himself up, still addressing the room. "Sometimes the refusal is repeated for a second or even a third time. I am therefore by no means discouraged by what Elizabeth has just said. I am sure we shall both be at the altar, 'ere long!"

Elizabeth stared at the man in horror, then turned to her parents. "Mama, I cannot marry Mr. Collins. I am sure I would not be able to make him happy. And I know he could not make me so."

"Happy? What is this happiness you speak of? You foolish, selfish girl. Will you be happy if you are unmarried, destitute and without a home? Will you be happy if you forfeit your family's estate? If you do not accept him this instant, I will never speak to you again!"

While Elizabeth could easily jest about this being a blessing, in truth her mother's words stung. They hurt, like small daggers all along her heart. She turned to face her father, tears in her eyes. "Papa?" she said.

"There, there," he sighed, "Go take a walk, Lizzy. I will speak to your mother." He voice darkened as he stared at the young man in the room. "And your cousin."

"Speak to me! You will do no such thing! Lizzy, no one will ever offer for you if you turn Mr. Collins down. How dare you say no, to keeping Longbourn in the family. You selfish, horrible child!"

"Mama, please—"

"Your father will die and we will be without a home, all thanks to you!"

Even Mr. Collins withdrew from the venom in Mrs. Bennet's voice. Her father turned toward his wife, his typical, withdrawn demeanor utterly changed. "You have no idea what has been going on here, over the past few days!" Mr. Bennet shouted. "You are blind, woman. If only you had consulted me first..."

Elizabeth could bear no more. She flew from the room, determined not to let her mother or Mr. Collins see her cry. Behind her, she heard her father berating her mother, but she could not pay attention to his words.

Elizabeth flew down the hall, slowing only when she passed the open music room. Inside, Caroline Bingley was singing and Mary was grudgingly accompanying her on the pianoforte. They paid her no heed, and Elizabeth walked faster and faster. Next she passed the yellow parlor, and Elizabeth saw a flash of gray and blue—Mr. Darcy, near the window—but she pressed on.

She had to get out of here, away from Netherfield and her family and—and everyone and everything. At home, she was known to leave the house early and go for early morning walks. Her father was right; a good, proper walk would clear her head.

Lizzy found herself near the kitchens, and the hallway to the servants' quarters upstairs. She walked unnoticed, up to the back door. She knew that finally, today, the sun was shining. The snow had stopped and now the world was simply quiet and white.

And there were a pair of boots and a thick cloak, hanging on a hook by the door. The boots were wet, snow slowly melting off of their soles and into puddles on the floor. Whomever had used them was inside now.

"It's not thievery if I'm only borrowing them," Lizzy whispered. She realized she was shaking, and that her cheeks were wet. But she could not stop. She simply had to get out of here.

She pulled off her own walking boots, which while sturdy, did not compare to the ones on the floor. She slipped one stocking-clad foot inside, and was pleased to find they were only a little big.

A maid came upon her, gasping and almost dropping a tray of tea. "Ma'am?" the girl said.

"Do you mind terribly, if I borrow these?" Elizabeth said.

"They're Miss Houston's, Ma'am. She's one of the cooks. I'm sure you could take them, but it's terribly cold outside."

"Thank you. Thank you ever so much." Elizabeth drew the cloak around her and tightened the boots, ignoring the poor girl's horrified expression. "I'm only going for a quick walk. It's fine, really. I do it all the time."

Elizabeth smiled gamely and finally the girl shrugged and said, "We'll have hot tea for you when you return, if you like."

"That sounds lovely," Elizabeth said. She felt like the automaton that had been featured in one of the Gothic novels Kitty and Lydia devoured; she was moving and speaking but could not seem to connect her brain to her actions.

And then her body was out the door, and into the bracing cold and bright sunlight.

Elizabeth ran a few paces on the packed snow and then stopped, sobbing. She allowed herself a moment to cry, then furiously wiped her cheeks. It was a beautiful day. The world was still snow-covered, but the sky was as blue as could be, and the sun sparkled and all the snow shone like a field of miniature diamonds.

And, it wasn't that cold.

Elizabeth walked as far as the packed-down path led, which was only over the verandah and down to the edge of the wilderness. Beyond that, the grounds grew more wild, though Lizzy knew whomever had designed the gardens had carefully structured walkways and vistas.

They had all been obliterated under the snow, however. And isn't that how it should be? she thought. Men—men were foolish. And arrogant. To think they could control the natural world.

She liked the true wilderness better, she decided, even as she stumbled into a snowbank. But her borrowed boots were warm and went all the way up to her knees, and her borrowed cloak was thick and fell to her ankles. She put up the hood and felt better as she trudged further from the house. She could not walk as quickly as she typically did, but that was half the fun.

The breathlessness, the work of it all. The bracing, freezing cold of the air coming into her lungs. The feeling of being alive, alive no matter what—no matter if she were engaged to Mr. Collins, or kissing Mr. Darcy, or far, far away from everyone.

Let me just get lost, for a little while, she thought.

And so she did.