Authors Note: I intended this story to be a one-shot, and I believe the first part can stand alone. However I've had amazingly positive reactions (thank you for all of the reviews and favs), and a lot of requests for more, so I thought I would extend the story. My original story was actually humorous by accident, rather than design. Here I am trying to take up the challenge of writing humor deliberately. I have to warn you that I don't really stick to Regency language very much, and as it turns out, the story is getting more and more absurd by the chapter. Let me know what you think. Wade

Elizabeth Bennet was dead. She was most assuredly dead. She was completely, irrevocably, implacably, unassailably, stone-cold dead… She was… wait!… Being dead could not possibly feel this bad!

Elizabeth Bennet was critically injured, gravely impaired, grievously disabled, mortally wounded, life-threateningly damaged, battered, bruised and tormented. She had obviously been mauled by a… bear… that was it… a bear. Now she remembered. Why there was a bear in Kent was quite a mystery, but that was definitely what happened. She could remember it clearly. She was mauled within an inch of her life and dragged into the bear's cave. Yes, she was definitely in a bear's cave, sleeping on the cold hard stone floor.

Wait! Elizabeth jerked more awake and shivered in fear. The bear was still there in the cave. In fact, she seemed to be lying dead, snuggled up next to it. She wondered if she could sneak out without waking it.

She squeaked like a mouse, which made the bear growl menacingly. It was so frightening, she screwed her eyes shut tight, and tried to hold herself completely still, but accidentally let loose a small scream. This made the bear very angry, and it started howling! Wait… bears didn't howl, maybe this was a wolf! Yes, that was it, a wolf. It chased her down, crunched her head with its powerful jaws and drug her back to its lair to eat at his leisure; not realizing that she wasn't quite dead. That was it! She was stuck in a wolf's den. Surprisingly, the wolf started whimpering like a puppy. Oh, that was so adorable! There were wolf cubs in the den with her. She didn't think it was usual for wolves to drag their prey in with their cubs, but maybe things were tough for wolves in Kent. Or maybe she was the wolf. Yes, that made sense. She was actually a wolf trapped in a cave with a bear.

Elizabeth made the mistake of opening her eyes to try to see her cubs and was rewarded with a Scottish Drum and Bugle Corp making a full-scale march inside her head… bagpipes and all. Elizabeth Bennet hated bagpipes. This would not do! If only her head would stop pounding or her stomach would stop flipping, or her eyeballs weren't filled with sand, or those damn Scotsmen would stop drumming.

Finally, screwing up all of her courage, she climbed the Bear/Wolf/Pup like an Oak tree, pried her eyes open, and stared directly into the eyes of…

"Mr. Darcy!"

This exclamation, which was probably said louder than strictly necessary since her mouth was a couple inches from his ear, made the Bear/Gentleman scream in pain, which made Elizabeth emit her own scream, which made the cub whimper, which in turn made Elizabeth whimper… This went on in a similar vain for a full hour and a half… at the very least.

Elizabeth recovered first, and decided to apply the full measure of her considerable intellect to the problem."

"Mr. Darcy, you are not a bear?"

Some hours or seconds later…

Mr. Darcy grimaced in pain and replied, "I'm not quite certain, but I believe you may be correct, I'm probably not a bear."

"Or a wolf?"

"That seems unlikely as well."

"A wolf cub?"

"Almost certainly not, everyone knows wolf cubs never sleep on their backs."

By now, both Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy were finally coming to their senses... more or less.

"I guess this isn't a bear's cave or a wolf's den?"

"I doubt it, but I'm not certain. I would have to guess the parlor at the parsonage."

With that, both came fully to the sense of where they were, and what their situation was. This was shocking!

"Good morning, Elizabeth."

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy."

"Elizabeth, considering that we are engaged, might you use my Christian name?"

"I'm afraid that would be quite impossible, sir."

"Why?"

Elizabeth giggled, and immediately regretted it, because the damned Scotsmen were back.

"I don't know what it is."

The absurdity of being engaged to someone when you didn't even know their Christian name was not lost on either of them.

"It's Fitzwilliam."

Elizabeth thought about that for a moment and asked, "Are you certain that, in your distress, you aren't confusing yourself with your cousin? We did consume quite a lot of brandy last night."

"I'm reasonably certain I have the right of it. It's a Darcy tradition. The firstborn son is named after the mother's family name. My mother was Lady Catherine's sister."

"I'm glad you clarified that I'm engaged to you, and not your cousin."

There it was! The Big New Thing! Actually Spoken Aloud!

Darcy nervously asked, "Do you regret it, Elizabeth?"

"Yes sir, I regret it deeply. I will never drink brandy again."

"I mean the engagement, not the brandy."

"Oh!"

Elizabeth thought about it for only a couple of seconds, and then once again climbed the bear like an oak tree, looked him in the eyes, and kissed him. This was not a chaste kiss. It was not a tentative kiss. It was most definitely not an innocent kiss. This was a curl your toes and hold onto your hats kiss, that left no doubt as to the feelings of the participants, irrespective of whether they actually knew their own feelings before it started. This was the first kiss of true love, and it was wonderful in every possible way.

Some hours later, Elizabeth released the poor bear from his torment, and asked, "Does that answer your question, sir?"

Darcy chuckled, and with a small smile said, "I am more sanguine about our engagement, but still frighted out of my wits—and have such tremblings, such flutterings, all over me—such spasms in my side and pains in my head, and such beatings at heart…"

At this, Elizabeth had to laugh uproariously, which naturally made both of their heads pound abominably in unison, but she just… couldn't… stop.

Elizabeth eventually stopped laughing and became a bit pensive. She was still resting comfortably on his chest, so she gave him a very quick kiss and asked, "How long have you known you loved me?"

"In my heart or my mind?"

"Your heart. Neither of our minds can be trusted."

"Since Netherfield"

Elizabeth became thoughtful and said, "I envy you. I've only known I love you for about five minutes."

Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, it was all too new, all too shocking, all too intimidating, all too frightening, all too wonderful to be so vulnerable. Fitzwilliam, for his part, did not feel the need to add to that statement. He just looped his fingers into her hair, which was actually a bit of a mess but he didn't care; and pulled her face down to his shoulder, while he gently caressed her back. This was absolutely, to this point, the best moment of his life.

After a few minutes of just being together peacefully, Fitzwilliam stirred and said, "Five minutes or five months does not signify Elizabeth. Sooner than we might believe, it will be five years and then five decades; and we will still love each other just as ardently."