AN: Apologies for being slightly late on getting this chapter up. Last week I was off and got a little over ambitious in what I thought I'd be able to write during the week, which somehow put me behind. Oops? Still wondering how that one happened *sigh*

I also know at some point I probably made claims that I know how long this will be. That was foolish of me (it usually is). My original plans are blown out of the water and I'm kind of on a see how it goes basis. I have an outline of where I want the story to go, but it's taking a while to get there.

Speaking of outlines, bad estimations of length, and apologies... this chapter was supposed to cover more ground. But I was having some difficulties with it so cut it short. I think it might make more sense to switch to Caroline or Elizabeth's POV for the next portion anyway. Oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯


When Darcy suggested they go to Meryton to manage some business related to the estate, it wasn't merely his usual attempt to herd Bingley towards more responsible behavior. It was indeed at least in part that, but the real motivation was to provide a distraction from the undoubtedly numerous thoughts running through his friend's head. Thoughts centered around the young and admittedly quite handsome Miss Jane Bennet.

It took all of an hour to regret the decision. Instead of keeping Bingley too busy to dwell on a rosy set of cheeks and coy blue eyes, it keeps him from hearing a single word his accountant tells him. And every lull in the conversation is merely an opportunity to praise some new feature of his beloved. Each time they pause to refer to various numbers and figures, they find him gazing with glassy eyes at nothing in particular, a dopey smile tugging at his lips.

Frustrated, the accountant ask but throws them out before they've settled any of Bingley's business. Charles hardly seems to notice, shaking the man's hand animatedly before walking out. Leaving Darcy to apologize sheepishly and compensate the poor man for his wasted afternoon.

"You could've at least pretended to be engaged in what-"

"It's raining," he pouts, starring out at the torrential downpour. It's coming down so hard Darcy's surprised he didn't hear it earlier. Though, he supposes, Bingley's not the only one who's distracted.

"So it is." He chuckles as Charles scowls, the rain personally offending him in its attempts to dampen his good mood. "Why don't we go to the inn for lunch, wait until it lightens up before riding back."

Charles grunts noncommittally but follows when Darcy ducks into the rain and rushes across the street to the inn. Lunch is no better as Charles spends the whole time sighing wistfully and lamenting that it's too soon to propose to the sweet angel that has captured his heart.

By the time the rain lets up, Darcy congratulates himself on not throttling the younger man. His lovesick rambling was insufferable enough when the object of his affection was nothing but a name and an idea. Now that she's a flesh and blood woman, it's infinitely worse. He's quite fond of Bingley, but honestly he's getting on Darcy's last nerve.

Especially, truth be told, because it's ridiculous. How can he so irrevocably love a woman whom he only just met, and barely spent an evening with at that! Her name being on his wrist has given him permission to go off into all sorts of foolish thinking that Darcy simply can't understand. He also met his soulmate at the same event. He's not declaring his undying love for Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

And yes, perhaps it shakes his confidence somewhat that they didn't start out on the best foot. And yes, seeing the way he stoically sits and eats his lunch while Bingley prattles on makes him question why there's such a difference between them. Surely it's just due to their difference in temperament. It can't be that Bingley truly felt a connection so soon.

"Darcy, are you alright? I feel you haven't heard a word I've said!" And there's a slight apology there in the blush of his cheeks, the acknowledgement underneath the question that he's been monopolizing the conversation.

"Fine." He coughs and shakes his head to dispel the last of his thoughts. "I'm fine."

"You seemed a little out of sorts-"

"My mind wandered briefly, I apologize-"

"Darcy," Bingely says with unnecessary gravity. "I'm sorry to have damn near taken over the conversation. It's abominably rude of me, and I daresay you're sick of hearing the sound of voice."

"On the contrary. You do your voice little credit, it sounds quite nice." Before Charles can react, Darcy adds, "It's really more the content that I find grating."

There's a pause before he bursts out laughing. "Alright, alright." He manages to compose himself, oblivious to the attention he's attracted from the other patrons. "Point taken. I'll not say another word about Miss Bennet for the rest of the day." Darcy gives him a look. "Until we get back to Netherfield, then." Darcy exaggerates the look. "Well, I should at least be able to make it until we finish our meal."

He doesn't.


With no other plans for the day, they decide to wait out the worst of the rain. Once it calms down to a mere drizzle, they have their horses brought out and start the ride back. Even with the rain, it's a pleasant ride. Darcy's always enjoyed excursions on horseback, no doubt from the multitude he went on as a boy. His mother loved the outdoors and shared her no small appreciation for it with her only son. It's not one he much gotten the chance to indulge in since taking over Pemberly, but he nevertheless takes the opportunities as he can.

"That's strange." Bingley's voice is raised to be heard over the wind and rain. "Seems I've missed a visitor to my own home."

They're still a half mile out, but they can clearly see the carriage waiting out front. The men share a look before urging their horses on. Just as they pull up to the house, Louisa is leading an older gentleman out and down the steps. She has an air of annoyance about her, as though this caller is both unexpected and unappreciated, but if the man notices he doesn't react.

"Well hello there! I've nearly missed you. I'm Charles Bingley, the owner of this estate. Whatever brings you here, Mr. ...?"

"Dr. Clark."

"Pleasure to meet you- Wait, did you say Doctor? Good god, has Caroline fallen ill?"

Louisa looks like she's bracing herself for something when she says, "Caroline is quite well, brother. It's the Bennet girls who are out of sorts."

Bingley damn near falls off his horse, his foot catching in the stirrup as he dismounts. Darcy is equally shocked, but as with most things, he handles it better. Which means that instead of visibly making a fool of himself, blood rushes to his ears and he misses half of Louisa's explanation. That the two eldest Bennet sisters were invited tea and arrived on horseback in the middle of the storm. That Jane Bennet nearly fainted and had to be taken to bed to recover. That the doctor had been called despite her protests that she merely needed rest.

And oh, Miss Elizabeth Bennet has also taken ill but it's not too severe. She's upstairs resting.

While Darcy tries to process the information, Charles repeatedly thanks the doctor for his time and care. He shakes the poor man's hand to excess until Louisa firmly tells her brother to let the poor man get to his next patient.

As soon as the doctor's carriage is on its way, Bingley rounds on his sister. "Why didn't you tell me you were inviting the Bennets here? I would have stayed-"

"You can't go about canceling business engagements because of a girl you met
I did not inform you of the invitation because I was not the one who made it." It's said with all the authority of an older sibling. Louisa sounds mildly peeved, but Darcy would wager it's more about the situation than Charles' outburst. "Although Miss Bennet insists she'll be well enough to travel home-"

"Out of the question! Did you not hear the doctor-"

Louisa glares at him and Charles wilts a little. "Although she insisted she could travel home, I had a room made up for her and her sister. The doctor will be back to check on her tomorrow evening."

Mollified, Charles lets his sister lead him inside and tell him all the details. Darcy bites his lip to keep himself from speaking. In an ideal world, it would be his right to ask after his soulmate as Charles so candidly does. But it is not an ideal world and propriety dictates that he not show undue interest in Elizabeth. Society is often not unlike a dance, all the steps carefully arranged for the sake of aesthetics while completely ignoring more practical matters.

The real absurdity of it is to protect lecherous old men in positions of power and wealth from taking advantage of the mystery surrounding soulmate marks. So that they can pursue any young lady that they wish with the promise of a profound bond. Or worse, it can abed the nefarious goals of those wishing to secure a match above their station. To pull themselves out of ruin by dragging the names of good men and women through the mud in scandal.

They enter the drawing room, occupied by a sole figure sitting at the table by the window and reading.

"Caroline!" Although cowed by Louisa's earlier scolding, Charles' voice regains its affronted tone. "You should have told me you'd invited Jane-"

Caroline gives a deep, put upon sigh before placing the book on the table. Darcy can't help but track the movement, mostly because he cannot remember the last time he saw Caroline reading for her own enjoyment. "Really, what's all the fuss about Charles? It was unnecessary for you to be deterred from your business. I assumed the ladies would still be here when you returned - which they are, if you haven't already taken note - so really, there's no reason to be upset."

Without much to counter the points except his own hurt feelings, Charles is left to sulk. Muttering about how inconvenient it is, he slumps down in the nearest seat and anxiously taps his foot.

"I highly doubt Miss Bennet will feel up to joining us for dinner," Louisa warns. "And don't you dream of going up there to pester the poor girl. I don't care whose soulmate she is, she needs rest. You may visit her tomorrow morning if she's feeling up to it."

"Such a showing of maternal instincts," Caroline jokes. "Never knew you to be so sentimental."

Louisa raises an eyebrow. "I am a good hostess." As if that explains everything.

The rest of the evening passes with just their original party. Dinner is brought up to the Bennet sisters and neither makes an appearance. Although he wasn't expecting to see Jane today, he's disappointed when he finally realizes he won't get the opportunity to see Elizabeth again. But the only time he braves mentioning her, Caroline gives him a curious look that makes him feel ill at ease and he drops the matter for the rest of the evening.

When he crawls into bed that night, he's more uneasy than he was before. He has yet to formulate a plan for how to approach Elizabeth and smooth over any lingering dissatisfaction she might have from their first meeting. Of course it does not occur to him to apologize. What could there possibly be to apologize for, after all? Miss Bennet has his name sitting upon her wrist, she must know. He may have been somewhat awkward and flustered (if only he were better at conversing with strangers!), but she will surely overlook it in favor of getting to know her soulmate.

Darcy's conviction waivers at breakfast the next morning. He slept well with the assumption that today would be the day they could properly meet and start their courtship. From what he knows of her condition, she is not nearly so ill as her sister and will in all likelihood be at breakfast. He is not disappointed in that regard.

Elizabeth is the last to enter the room and quietly takes a seat. She looks a little weathered, unsurprisingly. Her hair is a mess and she is no doubt in the same dress she wore yesterday, though it has been washed and dried in the interim. But there's a brightness to her eyes that he finds enchanting. His own spirits lift. Elizabeth Bennet might never be named a beauty, but she is not without her own charms.

"How are you this morning, Miss Bennet?" Bingley asks with his usual amiability. Darcy curses himself for not thinking to ask it himself (and perhaps curses Bingley for depriving him of the opportunity).

"I'm feeling much better. I daresay I'll have a headache by the end of the day if I don't take care, but I should be able to return to Longbourn by this evening."

"I wouldn't dream of it! Your sister would I'm sure take much comfort in having you here, and if you yourself are unwell there's no need to make the trip needlessly."

(Perhaps instead of cursing Bingley, he should thank him.)

Elizabeth's expression warms up a bit as she smiles at Bingley. "If you wouldn't mind terribly?"

"I practically insist!"

The conversation carries on to general concerns for the elder Miss Bennet, who is too unwell to make the trip down for breakfast and will likely need to stay in bed all day.

"Don't forget that Mr. Hurst will be arriving this afternoon," Louisa intones gravely, pointedly changing topics.

After a brief acknowledgement of their soon to be enlarged party, talk moves on to general plans for the day with the occasional interruption by Elizabeth's sneezes and sniffling. The whole time Darcy finds little chance to say much of anything. Bingley is all too happy to inquire after his dear Jane, and once the topic shifts it's Louisa and Caroline who easily carry on in their brother's stead.

Throughout the meal, he feels like Elizabeth is watching him acutely. Her perceives her gaze on him, studying him as he eats or offers paltry commentary. Yet whenever he manages to sneak a glance of his own, she's neither looking in his direction nor does she seem particularly interested in his presence. He could be a tapestry on the wall for all the attention she gives him.

Darcy spends the last few moments of breakfast silently brooding. It irks him more than he can express that Elizabeth is ignoring him. They're soulmates! And yet she sits across from him and won't even meet his eyes. Shows no reaction to the few words he manages to say. Is he not worthy enough to garner her attention and approval?

Fine, he concedes to himself. As the last of the plates are cleared from the table, he resolves to make a point of seeking opportunities to speak with her throughout the day.