AN: Hi Everyone! Thank you for all the comments and support! I really do enjoy hearing it!

Blurb: A what-if story that picks up right in the middle of Elizabeth's visit to Pemberley with her Aunt and Uncle. During the visit, chaos ensues at Pemberley, and maybe our favorite couple, Elizabeth and Darcy, can discover what they want. Will Darcy and Elizabeth finally speak their minds?

Thank You Henya Blackstar, and the other Beta Readers from CritiqueMatch for all of your valuable input and feedback.

Thank You for reading and enjoy! :D


Unexpected Invitations

By: KMarinelli2023

Chapter 5

Pemberley, an orchestra of hurried footsteps, buzzed as vendors scurried through the polished halls. Yet in the chaos, a door creaked open revealing a haven of tranquility; three women sat huddled over baskets of flowers working on floral arrangements for Sarah's wedding.

"Sarah, what do you think of this?" Georgiana turned a small bouquet around, showing it off in the soft glow of sunlight filtering through sheer curtains.

"They look lovely, Miss," Sarah said, her gaze lingered on the meticulously crafted bouquet. "I'm truly grateful for everything you've done." Her tone warm and heartfelt. "Your generosity has made this wedding even more special."

"No, it's my pleasure and it was Miss Bennet's idea."

At the call of her name, Elizabeth was pulled from her thoughts. "Think nothing of it." She finished with an overly exaggerated smile. Her fingers moved mechanically around the roses scattered about. She blankly stared at the rose in hand, admiring the fragile beauty it contained masking the thorns underneath.

The sounds of Georgiana and Sarah merrily chatting away faded in her ears as Elizabeth's thoughts dragged her back down. She was left confused by yesterday's study encounter with Darcy. Had her words haunted him, like her words at the parsonage? Would he think her cruel? Had her boldness come off as harsh? Did he think less of her for her progressive ideas?

The wedding was tomorrow–that was all she needed to focus on. Then she could return to the comfort of home. Where she could hide away. She was not foolish enough to believe he would ever offer again–but a growing part of her wanted it.

"Yes, Sarah do not put much thought into it. Fitzwilliam and I are happy to help," Georgiana said eagerly leaning into the conversation. "Plus I get to witness a wedding at Pemberley."

"I'm glad to hear you are looking forward—" Sarah said.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as pain shot through her finger, a trickle of copper blood ran down her smooth skin, as a broken thorn pierced her. She clenched her teeth as a low involuntary hiss escaped, her spine tensed as she stood up, letting the culprit tumble to the floor. She stood up before either woman could.

"Miss Bennet please let me get a medical kit," Sarah said rushing over to check the injury, rummaging through her pockets for her handkerchief. Grabbing it, Sarah wrapped it around the bleeding finder.

"Sarah, please stay and focus on your wedding florals. I can find my way. Plus, I could use the time to stretch my legs," Elizabeth said, smiling past the stinging pain.

Elizabeth hastened her steps as she exited the parlor, her pace quickening as she made her way toward the staff's hall. Just as she passed through the door leading to her destination, she caught a glimpse of Caroline Bingley.

"Miss Eliza, it's not proper for ladies to run."

That was hardly running, she thought while resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Caroline's pretentiousness–had the woman never engaged in a spirited run or dash? Elizabeth would have felt bad for Caroline, if not for her grating on her nerves. She discreetly tucked her hand behind her back, aware it might draw further contempt from Caroline. "Excuse me Miss Bingly, but I am in search for Mrs Reynolds."

Caroline scrutinized Elizabeth. "She's down the hall to the left."

Curtsing Elizabeth turned on her heel and headed down the hall. Upon reaching the only door on the left, she knocked gently.

"Miss Bingley, as I've shared we will do our best to accommodate your needs," the voice said from behind the door.

The door swung open in front of Elizabeth. In front of her stood the petite elderly woman. Her face moved through a range of emotions, eventually settling on widened eyes and mouth agape.

In a single inhale, Mrs Reyonlds asked, "Miss Bennet, I apologize; I thought you were Miss Bingley; may I help you?"

Elizabeth held up her finger that was wrapped in the bloodied handkerchief.

"Oh my, please take a seat," Mrs Reynolds said grabbing her spare medical kit from her desk. "You could ring for us to deliver this than have you find your way here."

"It's no big deal, and everyone's already stretched thin. I can take care of it myself if you have other matters to worry about."

"Pish posh ma'am. I'm always happy to help out Mr Darcy's esteemed guests. Anyway, this is nothing compared to the scrapes that the Master used to get into with his cousin." Mrs Reynolds began tending to the injured finger–removing the thorn and applying a clean bandage with ointment.

Elizabeth wondered what scrapes he got into. She couldn't picture the once prideful man she knew getting into trouble.

"I've met Colonel Fitzwilliam, is that who you were referring to?" Elizabeth could easily imagine Colonel Fitzwilliam getting into scrapes.

"You've met him? He's a handsome man, is he not? But personally, I find the master to be more handsome."

She grew hot under the gaze of Mrs Reynolds and was saved by indistinguishable shouting.

"What are they hollering about now," Mrs Reynolds mumbled, just loud enough for Elizabeth to catch, as she hastened out the door.

Elizabeth trailed behind at a measured pace, silently observing Mrs Reynolds, the butler, and a footman huddled–drowned out by the clatter of pots and pans from the kitchen next to them. As she stepped closer, the trio all had furrowed brows.

None of them paid any attention to Elizabeth. The echo of a bang caught her midstep, the hairs on the back of her neck tingled, her mind working on detecting the direction of origin.

It came from down the corridor.

It couldn't be, she thought. Sarah and Georgiana are fine, at least that is how Elizabeth left them. But what if the noise did come from them? She wondered. Elizabeth moved one foot in front of the other, slow at first, then into a quick shuffle as she neared the end of the corridor.

More unsettling shouting could be heard.

Elizabeth lifted her skits, rather unladylike, and sprinted to the source of the noise–not caring about who saw her. To the same doors, just moments ago she dashed from. She tightly grabbed the door handles bracing for impact and pulled hard–sending the doors open with a burst of air.

"What's the meaning of this?" Her eyes honed in on Georgiana, frozen like a fawn cornered by a predator. "What can I assist with, sir?"

"That disgraceful chit is unfit to marry my son!" The mysterious man accusingly pointed towards Georgiana and Sarah.

"Sir, kindly identify yourself if you—," Elizabeth demanded, her tone icy. Her words cut short, but she held her ground. Her hands fisted themselves by her side, hiding her perspiring palms, her arms rigid and tense.

"Keep out of this!" The man's stout presence did not hinder his grandiose rudeness to Elizabeth. "This is a man's duty; no place for a woman." His words were sharp as icicles.

Sarah did her best to comfort Georgiana, but both were pinned, the exit just out of reach.

"As the lady in charge right now, I insist you depart before you get thrown out. The Master has been alerted to your presence." Her nostrils flared, and hawk-eyed him.

Moderate height, round midsection, featureless face, all-black attire, mourning-like. He bristled at her words. "I don't care who you are or where you stand in this household," he barked. "That woman is on the verge of becoming my daughter-in-law unless I intervene." He took an ominous step towards Georgiana.

Had he mistaken the women's identities? Had he ever met his future daughter-in-law? Elizabeth deliberated.

Eyes locked on, and back to the wall, Elizabeth circled him slowly detecting the tell-tale scent of liquor. She knew well enough that drunkenness might provoke reckless behavior, and stopped circling when her back met Georgiana and Sarah. Both ladies were a trembling leaf caught in a thunderstorm, but Elizabeth squared her shoulders, her spine straight, as her arms eased up a bit.

"Since you are uninvited and intruding, I have every right to expel you! And why does it matter if she marries your son?" Her words were clear and even, and needed to establish her dominance if she was going to see this through.

"That woman is a gold digger. My son is due to inherit our family business. He would be throwing everything away for some unsophisticated country girl!" He jabbed a finger in Elizabeth's direction.

Elizabeth glared at the contemptuous man, her voice laced with scorn. Despite his jab, Elizabeth stood equal in height. "As the hostess of the upcoming wedding, I can assure you that she has every right to make her own choices. Your arrogance blinds you to the depth of her character and the genuine love she has. Your outdated notions of social status and wealth mean nothing. Your son is fortunate to have found love within a woman of substance, unlike you."

Sweat beaded on his crimson face. "If this marriage happens, I'll disinherit my son, you hussy!"

He stabbed a finger at Elizabeth's chest, but her firm stance kept her upright instead of stepping back and crashing into Georigna and Sarah, while Elizabeth stepped closer, attempting to use what little height she had left over this man, her chin lifted, giving her just a tiny edge.

Her hands clenched into fists as she thought back to a boxing match she'd once snuck off to watch. Could she defend herself now? Where was Darcy? Her senses were on high alert, making everything around her take on a hyper-real clarity.

As the man's hand sliced through the air toward her, her hands blocked the strike at the cost of her view. Georgiana ducked behind her, causing a sudden chill.

But Elizabeth's hand only met air.

Disorientation flooded her as she tried to grasp what had happened. Her heart pounding, she noticed the man sprawled on the floor, shouting obscenities. Beyond him, a pair of boots stood–in a firm stance.

Mr Darcy.

His hair damp and tousled from the morning mist, overcoat still on, and boots caked in mud, presented a striking visage for Elizabeth. She had never seen this side before, and it was the most disheveled image of him to her recollection. Behind him, the butler and footmen seized the fallen intruder.

"What in the world is the meaning of this?" Darcy's voice was a taut wire, his jaw tense.

Elizabeth felt a knot in her stomach.

"Unhand me, Sir! That shrew tried to hit me!" The unruly man struggled against his captors. "That she needs to be controlled!"

"Mind your words carefully, for they may be your last as a free man." His frigid gaze could freeze a river.

"Well–I was trying to–He was yelling at Georgiana, and I tried to intervene," Elizabeth let out, her gaze finally relaxed settling on her trembling hands. It all came crashing down on her.

"It's true, Fitzwilliam. We were talking when he came in," Georgiana confirmed, her voice shaking. "He began to lash out at Sarah and I tried to intervene but... I couldn't. Then Elizabeth came in. She stood her ground and refused to back down." Her eyes beamed at Elizabeth.

Excusing herself, her gaze on the carpet, Elizabeth left to calm herself in her bed-chamber, leaving the intruder for Darcy to handle, and based on how red Darcy's face looked, she almost sympathized with the intruder. Her heart painfully thumped inside as the surge of adrenaline rushed in her pulse.

Once the safety of her room enveloped her, she let out a shaky breath. The day's events replayed in her mind, overwhelming her. She had defended Georgiana on instinct, fabricating authority to protect her friend.

Yet now doubts plagued her. Had she overstepped? Presumed an intimacy with the Darcys beyond her right? If word spread she impersonated the mistress, it could ruin her.

And Darcy - she dreaded facing him after her charade was exposed. Would he think her vulgar and improper? Her reputation was a delicate thing. It was her words against a vile man's.

Sinking down onto the bed, Elizabeth pressed a hand to her chest, feeling her racing heart. She had only meant to help her friend. But propriety was an unforgiving master.

A soft knock at the door startled her from her spiraling thoughts. Before she could respond, it cracked open to reveal Darcy's imposing frame. Elizabeth froze.

"Forgive my intrusion." He stood at her threshold, eyes meeting hers, expression unreadable. "I wished to see that you were unharmed."

Elizabeth's voice failed her. She could only nod in reply. Darcy studied her for a moment before speaking again.

"I am in your debt for your help with Georgiana. She shared how it reminded her of Wickham's past when he left her."

Elizabeth's eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't think, just acted." So uncharacteristically of her. Yet recent events were causing her to not be her.

"I appreciate it nonetheless," he assured her. "Anyway, I will take care of it from here on. Get some rest, Miss Bennet." He bowed and closed the door, the click of the door filled the room.

With that, he was gone, leaving her stunned. Perhaps she had been too quick to expect his censure. There was plenty of proof of his kindness. Yet why was she always assuming the worst?

Dinner that evening was a quiet affair. Both Mr Gardiner and Mr Darcy were absent, and only Mr Bingley and Mr Hursts remained on the premises for dinner as the remaining men. Caroline and the Hursts were not interested in entertaining Elizabeth and her aunt, so the only party members at dinner were: Elizabeth, Mrs Gardiner, Georgiana, and Mr Bingley.

As the night drew on the party of four found themselves in the music room. Georgiana played some light melodies, upon the encouragement of Elizabeth, on her new pianoforte–filling the air with her soft sweet melodies.

"In all the commotion of wedding preparation, I forgot to share the news that I received from Jane, aunt," Elizabeth paused, waiting for her aunt's attention.

"Jane shared that the kids were all enjoying themselves, and that little Emma has taken to gardening. "

"How wonderful! We will need to build her a little nursery back home." Mrs Gardiner turned her attention back onto her knitting.

"How are the members of Meryton, Miss Bennet?" Mr Bingley eagerly asked, not hiding his curiosity.

"Jane shares that all is well back home, and no unfortunate news about any inhabitants of Meryton."

"Ex-Excellent," he murmured, a wistful glimmer in his eyes. His gaze drifted off, not furthering the conversation, as a faint lift of the corner of his mouth appeared.

Elizabeth wanted to share her opinion of his actions, or lack of actions but knew better to hold her wild tongue. She should avoid interfering in their relationship; just like she scolded Darcy for interfering. If Bingley was easily convinced to leave her dear sister, then maybe he wasn't the right man for her. Or was she still holding onto the grudges of the past, comfortable with their familiarity?

As the evening grew late, and the missing members never joined back, the party of four decided to head up for sleep. Elizabeth knew full well that sleep was not possible and stayed back down.

As Elizabeth leaned against the window alcove, the moonlight cast a soft cool glow on her face, illuminating the conflict etched in her features. Her thoughts drifted unbidden to Darcy, like a persistent tide crashing against her better judgment. Images of his stern countenance mingled with the warmth she had glimpsed in his eyes, a paradox that left her heart in turmoil.

She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the erratic rhythm of her heartbeat, as she tried to bid it to her will. Betraying her, it quickened at the memory of his presence, the timbre of his voice.

Pulling back from the alcove to the dying fire beneath the mantle, its crackling embers filled the air. The flickering flames mirrored the flickering of her constant heart. How had she come to this point, where thoughts of the man she scorned now consumed her? The irony was not lost on her–the very man she once held in disdain now held domain over her thoughts, unwelcome but undeniable.

The mantle, adorned with an array of glittering trinkets and delicate mini-portraits, captured Elizabeth's attention. Among them, a striking matching pair stood out–a portrayal of the elder versions of Darcy and Georgiana. She found herself captivated by the regal charm of the aged Darcy, imagining how her Darcy would evolve. She believed he would age gracefully, just as his parents had.

Feeling a warmth spread through her, Elizabeth was drawn to the starry night sky. Opening the music room up, she stepped out, the crispness of the summer night air caressed her skin, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

She imagined seeing Darcy on horseback, his strong features cutting through the night. A small shake of her head dismissed the image. Was she losing her sanity, entertaining such thoughts?


AN: Is Elizabeth seeing things now? We're so close to the end ;)