Hi! Thank you all for your reviews :) I'm glad you like the concept. I would just like to clear up a few things. Also, I'm not a regency expert, so if you spot anything wrong, go ahead and put it in a review ;) thanks.

This will definitely have a Darcy/Lizzy HEA. I can hardly read non-HEAs, never mind write one!

The 'rules' of the wardrobe will be a little different, just because of how I have planned for the story to work

I don't really want to post it as a crossover because this story won't have any other Narnian aspects in it or characters. However, if it's possible to post it twice, I will try and post it as a crossover, perhaps on another site.

Please enjoy, and review!

Also, I would like to clarify that in this story, Fitzwilliam is only two years older than Lizzy, when they first meet. I am going to say that this story is currently in 1796; the events of chapter 1 happened in January 1796. This is based on the assumption that Darcy is 28 when they meet in canon, in 1813. Sorry if I'm wrong with my dates, but I just wanted to make this clear because I will be skipping time in this story, and I just want to ensure everyone is clear with their ages etc.

This chapter is just a few of their meet ups - so that we can watch ODC get to know each other.

Translations

1. Happy birthday! I have biscuits

2. Hi, Lizzibeth! I have a drawing of my sister; would you like to see it?

3. Yes, please.

4. Do you like it? Sorry, I am not good at drawing.

5. Lizzibeth, speak in Spanish!

"Lizzibeth, to say hello, you must say 'hola', and to say your name, you would say 'me llamo Elizabeth'." He tried.

"Hola, me llayo Elizabeth?" She tried.

"Not 'llayo', Lizzibeth, it is 'llamo'." He said patiently.

"Mmhmm… Fitzywilliam, how do I say that I have biscuits?"

"Tengo galletas." He told her, before realising what she said. "You have biscuits?" He asked, the signature boyish grin stretching across his lips.

"No," Lizzy replied.

"You're very mean, Lizzibeth." He told her earnestly, causing her to giggle. "And we were speaking Spanish!" He exclaimed.

"Sí, sí," Lizzy said, gesturing for him to continue.

"To say you have three sisters, you must say, 'Tengo tres hermanas.' I would say 'soy un hijo único,'" Fitzwilliam continued.

"Which means that you are an only child." Lizzy finished. "But, tego tres hermana."

"Tengo, Lizzibeth! And you must say 'hermanas'." He told her, chuckling slightly. She exhaled deeply in annoyance, before attempting to copy her friend's accent.

April 1801 - (and many Spanish lessons between Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam) later…

"Lizzibeth!" Fitzwilliam called, seeing his best friend in her usual place, sitting on the lowest branch of the tree. He leapt over the wooden log and jumped up onto the tree next to her. His excitement was almost too much to handle.

"Hola, Fitzywilliam!" Lizzy said, grinning widely. She allowed her book to fall off her lap, revealing a napkin full of warm, chocolate biscuits. "Feliz cumpleaños. Tiengo galletas…" (1.) She tried, as per their tradition. He leant into her, giving her a slight half-hug.

"It is 'tengo', Lizzibeth. But do not fuss about Spanish now! My mother gave me a little sister, Lizzy! And that was my birthday present! Can you believe it? I certainly cannot. I have a little sister, Lizzibeth! Like your little sister Kitty!" Elizabeth gasped in excitement. Her friend's happiness was infective as he gently shook her shoulders.

"But Fitzwilliam, I am getting another sibling too! Next month, I believe!"

"Perhaps they can play together!"

"They can be friends!"

"Best friends, like us!" Fitzwilliam said, his muffled voice raising with excitement as he nibbled the biscuit.

"Ah, Lizzibeth, your cook makes the most delicious biscuits! I must have the recipe, to give to my cook!" Elizabeth wrinkled her nose at him, giving him a cheeky smile.

"Fitzy, 'tis my cook's secret recipe. She would never share it with you!"

"It is mean, to not share something of such great importance!" Fitzwilliam said, placing a hand on his heart. "Lizzibeth, what if I were to die, simply because I cannot eat anything other than these lovely biscuits which I can only get from you?" He moved his hand to his forehead, tilting his head backwards, strongly reminding Lizzy of her mother's nerves, and causing her to giggle at her best friend's theatrics. Fitzwilliam demanded to know the reason for her laughter, and he began to laugh with her, and before long, the tree branch began shaking, causing Lizzy to fall off.

"Lizzibeth!" Fitzwilliam shouted, jumping off the branch and kneeling beside her. "Lizzibeth, are you ok?" He asked urgently, looking around. To his great surprise, Lizzibeth sat up almost immediately, a smile upon her lips. She lifted the dress up to her knee, which was bleeding. Fitzwilliam's eyes widened at the sight of the blood, yet his friend seemed unaffected. She even laughed at him!

"Fitzy, 'tis only a graze! It will be gone by tomorrow!"

"But Lizzibeth! It is bleeding!"

"Fitzy, it shall be fine! Look." She took the napkin that had been used for their biscuits, and carefully tied it around her knee, humming lightly as Fitzwilliam looked on, half shock, half intrigue. Lizzibeth returned her gaze to him and smirked slightly.

"Fitzy, you are scared of the sight of blood." It was a statement, not a question. He would not lie and had no choice but to shrug his shoulders, silently admitting to it. "Oh, don't worry. I don't mind. Even Jane and my father don't like it; I am the only one in my family who can stomach the sight of blood."

"Richard can," Fitzwilliam said thoughtfully.

"Who is Richard?" Lizzy asked. Fitzwilliam smiled. Here was a topic he could speak on easily (that was not books), his family.

"Richard is my cousin. He is but a year older than me; and he is so often at my home. I would say we are the best of friends. He has an elder brother, John, but John does talk to us so much. He is much older, after all. Then, there is George. George is my father's steward's son, and he too is one of my best friends. We are precisely the same age, and my father will be sending the both of us to school next year. I am rather looking forward to school, for we will both be together, even if the others at school are not. I will be going to Harrow, my father's old school, but it is so far away! Lizzibeth, I may not get to see you for a long while!" He suddenly realised.

"I would love to go to school… or even have a governess," Elizabeth said wistfully.

"Why do you not?" Fitzwilliam asked.

"My father cannot afford it."

"Oh." Fitzwilliam looked down at the grass and tugged on it. "How terribly unfair." He wished he could help her, but there was truly nothing that could be done. Elizabeth gave him a mischievous smile.

"I can teach myself, however. You won't be so much cleverer than me, Fitzy!" And when he looked up to the determined look on his friend's face, he believed her. His little friend was far more intelligent than anyone else of his acquaintance.

"I would never dream of such a thing, Lizzibeth!" Fitzwilliam told her, his expression one of mock outrage. "You shall probably be cleverer than me when I return from school!" She wrinkled up her nose, a cheeky expression crossing her face.

"Perhaps I shall be, Fitzywilliam! You…"

"Lizzy! Lizzy, where are you?" Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam watched as another girl with blond hair, of a similar age to Fitzwilliam, appeared in their view. Elizabeth quickly rose and dusted off her dress.

"Fitzywilliam, I must go now, for my sister calls me. But you must promise me when we meet again, you must bring a picture of your sister!" She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a tight squeeze, before scampering away. And of course, he stepped back through the wardrobe, a satisfied smile set firm upon his face.

"Hola Fitzywilliam!" Elizabeth said, jumping down to greet him, surprised to see him so soon.

"Hola, Lizzibeth! Tengo un dibuja de mi hermana; te gustaría verlo?" (2.)

"Si, por favor!" (3.) Elizabeth replied. He revealed it to her, slightly nervous about his almost non-existent drawing skills.

"Te gusta? Lo siento, no soy bueno dibujando." (4.) He asked, shifting his feet nervously. Elizabeth stood up on her tiptoes and patted his head.

"It's good, Fitzy, it really is. And Georgie is truly adorable!"

"Lizzibeth, hablas en español!" (5.) He said, faking exasperation, before adding, "but thank you."

"Fitzwilliam, you must give a drawing of yourself! Then I won't forget you whilst you are at school!" Elizabeth suggested.

"And you must give me one of yourself! Lizzibeth, tomorrow I shall bring my pencils and some paper, and I shall draw you, and you may draw me."

"What a brilliant idea, Fitzywilliam!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I knew there was a reason we are friends." She teased.

"Oh? And what reason might that be?" He asked, climbing up the tree. She followed after him with a cheeky smile.

"Why, Fitzywilliam, I would think you clever enough to guess! Of all my acquaintances, my intelligence matches yours precisely." She told him as he placed his arm around her.

"And your modesty?" He questioned, laughing as she leaned into him.

"Is unmatched by all." She told him. "I do love to exaggerate my own virtues."

"Oh, Lizzibeth! You must be related to my Aunt Catherine!" Fitzwilliam teased.

"How so?" Elizabeth inquired.

"Well, she does think of herself to be the best person of her acquaintance." He said. Elizabeth made a face. "I agree," Fitzwilliam said. "She wants me to marry her daughter." He told Elizabeth, matching her look of disgust. Elizabeth's jaw dropped open.

"But Fitzy, you are only 12!"

"Well… I think she means when I am older." Fitzwilliam said.

"And will you?" Elizabeth scrutinised him.

"No!" Fitzwilliam responded indignantly. "I love Anne as my sister! I could never marry her!"

"I will only marry for true love," Elizabeth said, snuggling further into Fitzwilliam's arm.

"As will I, Lizzibeth. My Mother and father have made me promise as much." He replied. She smiled up at him.

"Fitzy, wouldn't it be so perfect if we were to get married?" She joked, turning to look up at him. He laughed.

"Oh, what fun we would have, Lizzibeth. If only you could come to Pemberley!"

Fitzwilliam could just make out Elizabeth's figure, cartwheeling across the grass.

"Lizzibeth, what are you doing?" He eyed her in amusement, her face slightly flushed.

"Honestly, Fitzywilliam, do you expect me to believe you have never seen a cartwheel before?" She said, raising her eyebrows.

"Perhaps not." He conceded with a shrug, sitting down on the grass whilst his friend continued to cartwheel around him.

"Fitzy, won't you join me?" She asked him. He blushed.

"Lizzibeth, I do not know how to cartwheel." He told her.

"Fitzy, don't lie to me," she said airily, cartwheeling around him.

"Lizzibeth, aren't you afraid you might fall?" He asked, scared for the safety of his best friend. She sniggered.

"Where, Fitzy, where do you think I am going to fall?"

"Over the tree root?" He pointed it out, about 10 meters away from Lizzy.

"No Fitzwilliam, I will not trip. I believe it is only you who has fallen over a tree root whilst cartwheeling." She stopped, coming to sit in front of him. Small tendrils of her hair had fallen out of its updo, and Fitzwilliam carefully tucked them back in, as if on instinct.

"How did you know?" He asked, regarding her with amazement.

"'Tis an irrational fear, Fitzy. Keep to this area," Elizabeth gestured, "and I promise, you will not fall over any tree roots." She said perfectly seriously. When George would have laughed at his fears, his other best friend, Lizzibeth, respected him. And as he joined her, he knew he had found the best of friends in his Lizzibeth.