A/N: All right, all right! NOT gonna finish at 30 chapters. Right up until about 25 I was thinking 'Oh, ye of little faith' while longtime fans were saying, '30? Yeah, right'. Turns out you're right, I'm wrong, you told me so, etc.

I'm close, but probably 5-10 more. Introducing Cecil, Max and the Countess obliged me to expand.

Wade


Elizabeth gradually awakened from her nap feeling refreshed and remarkably clear-headed. Looking around with half-open eyes, she observed the door open, a light breeze blowing, the afternoon sun working its way to the horizon, and Diligent Darcy busy with his pen at the small desk Simpson had placed in the cabin for his use.

For quite some time, she kept her eyes half-open, her movements stealthy, and just enjoyed watching him. He continued his work, scratching busily for a couple of minutes at a time, then thinking for a while, then writing some more, pausing to look at some other paper, then continuing.

She understood he had enough interests to keep him quite occupied and actively managed them. The colonel had once mentioned that Darcy's charities alone were more work than most gentlemen engaged in.

In one of her more lucid, painful, and bored moments, when she practically screamed for a distraction, Darcy had explained that the true measure of a gentleman was in how well he managed, encouraged, and assisted those who did the actual, frequently difficult, work. It was a mutual dependence, and in his view, his riches were part of an imperfect, but relatively efficient system to build prosperity for everyone, not just his right by birth. While many of his class just hired a steward then sat back awaiting their income or allowance; not only did he feel they were failing to measure up to their duties, but it was also self-defeating. In the best cases, it might take generations of decline to destroy them, but the entire time, they were only one dishonest steward, one incompetent banker, or a heavy gambling master or heir, from ruin.

She had to admit that she admired that, and wondered if it was possible she might have learned half as much in a typical courtship. The topics of conversation between unengaged couples was supposed to be restrained by propriety to things of very little value in really knowing someone. Contrarily, she knew Jane and Mr Bingley spent hours and hours with their heads together, and it seemed to her that with nobody eavesdropping, they had plenty of time for the two to at least understand their feelings.

After a quarter-hour, she spoke.

"It is amazing to me, how you can be so very accomplished. How fast you write… how fine your paper… how even your lines… how long your letters… how charming your verbiage… how odious your business… and… dare I say… might you even be one of the elusive half-dozen?"

He looked up with the radiant smile of Devil May Care Darcy. "You failed to mention the four-syllable words?"

She laughed unselfconsciously, which she had never done in his presence before the incident, and only occasionally after.

Wistful Darcy continued, "You must have thought us quite absurd."

"Ri-dic-u-lous," she enunciated emphatically, which set the man to laughing like the colonel. She thought it suited him, as did the fact that only those closest to him were privileged to witness such mirth. Excessive exuberance would not fit his nature.

"Preposterous!" he replied.

"Nonsensical"

"Astonishing!"

They were laughing along quite well together and it was not a terrible thing.

They finally settled down, and she said, "Mirror-image… can that serve as a single word?"

"Incongruous, perhaps?" he asked with a wistful grin, and she could see he was rethinking their past acquaintance. She also thought she understood him well enough to see his mind tallying up past offences on one side of a ledger, with wilful penances on the other, to calculate if he was ahead.

"Are you feeling trepidation?"

"Absolutely," he said more seriously.

She sighed. "Do you feel as if we are reliving our acquaintance in reverse, like a mirror image?"

"Pray, elucidate," he asked, not certain if the game was ending or just getting started.

"Well, we have exchanged a mansion for a fishing shack, for one."

Playful Darcy smiled handsomely. "Too true. Of course, replacing the Bingley sisters with Cecil and Simpson has much to recommend it."

Elizabeth laughed freely.

Darcy continued ruefully. "Obviously, now it is my relations that are so objectionable, and by a far wider margin."

"I cannot argue," she said as she scratched an itch on her unbroken leg with a frown.

They thought a second, then Elizabeth continued. "How about Jane? She turned from a lamb to a lion, is romancing a man rather than a boy, and you are encouraging her rather than discouraging. All exactly backwards."

"Ah, so you knew about my interference," he sighed, looking as if he feared he might finally be called to account.

"Come sit," she said softly, reaching over to pat the chair she suspected was from his London home along with its twin on the other side.

She revelled in the fact that she could do so with no more than a twinge of pain, so long as she was inordinately careful with her leg. It still hurt like the devil if it was jostled too much, but she could get by. If things went well, she would get the splints off in another fortnight, and start putting weight on it soon after.

Darcy hurried across to the bed, lifted her to a sitting position with pillows, poured a cup of water, and finally settled.

"We have things to discuss, William, but we cannot progress if you cringe with every statement, or spend your time with your ledgers of sins, or whatever you keep in that head of yours. Try to retrieve your even keel."

He nodded, looking somewhat emotional—perhaps Stoic Darcy?

"Yes, I know about your intervention. Richard encountered me in the park on the morning of our last night in company, and he mentioned that you congratulated yourself on having lately saved a friend from the inconveniences of a most imprudent marriage, then spent another five minutes twisting the knife regarding her unsuitable family. You can imagine my reaction! That is why I was so uncivil at dinner that night, and I refused to play or even speak beyond a monosyllable. I tried to avoid dinner altogether but did not have the energy to argue with Mr Collins."

"I never apologized for that," he said. "It is one of the many things I wished to discuss when your mind was clear."

"Yes, but now you must account for the fact that we are in Mirror-Land."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, that you should, in fact, congratulate yourself. You did save a friend from an imprudent marriage. You just did not realize at the time that the friend was Jane, and you were saving her from a feckless weasel. Not only should you refrain from apologising, but I believe we shall have a celebration with cake and punch every year on the anniversary of your officious interference."

Confused Darcy stared at her for some time, and finally asked, "You view that interaction with satisfaction?"

She laughed and reached over to take his hand. It was the first time she had done so deliberately and with a clear head.

Nervous Darcy covered her hand with his, and it felt… right. "I suppose your theory has merit. Do you look on the event with understanding and satisfaction?"

"I look on the resolution that way, though the motivation does not survive so well."

"Are you certain you know the motivation?"

"I presume lack of consequence, my uncles in trade, my family's behaviour (including or especially mine), possible future obligations, lack of connexions, lack of fortune—any or all of those. I would not advise any man to take up with a Bennet."

Darcy cringed but replied honestly. "I am not even certain I know my own impetus. Sir William made me aware that Bingley had been rather incautious, and the neighbourhood already had expectations. Then of course, you well remember your mother's blatant prognostications at supper. I watched Jane closely the rest of the night and could see no signs of particular regard, but before you bite my head off, I am aware of the contradiction inherent in a man as guarded as myself taking that view."

"I am not planning to take you to task, and I am not even certain I am capable of beating you any harder than you beat yourself."

He groaned wistfully. "The worst of it is that, even now, I cannot tell if my motives were pure. I cannot say whether, in the hidden parts of my mind, I was saving Bingley from Jane or myself from you. I was already feeling the attraction, but foolishly still believed it would be a mesalliance, and that my first infatuation would fade easily enough with distance and time."

"Ahhhhhhhh! Now we have honesty about feelings. An appropriate disclosure for Mirror-Land. If you expect me to chastise that attitude, you are to be disappointed. With a mother like mine, even if I had not disliked you, I could not afford any attention from a man like you, unless you knew what you were about. If you were attracted, but it was a slight, thin sort of inclination, a month in town would serve as well as one good sonnet to starve it entirely away."

He chuckled, well remembering the discussion from her stay at Netherfield, which in retrospect seemed to be her attempt to rein in her mother. "You are not angry?"

"That would violate Mirror-Land rules. It is no secret that even then I was a poor match for you. After meeting Lady Catherine and Lady Matlock, presuming Lady Anne was of the same stripe, and your father was an older version of you—I doubt you invented the idea of an accomplished woman—you were taught, and likely taught well."

"That sounds like blame shifting. I have been out of short pants for some time and should have known better."

"In Mirror-Land, we accept blame for other's faults and heap praise on our own," she said with a gay little laugh, which he joined.

"What other evidence can you present in favour of this hypothesis?"

"I think Mr Bingley must be right. You are good at the syllable game."

"Do not prevaricate!"

With a gay little laugh, Elizabeth said, "Well, we were adversaries back then."

"And we are friends now?" Anxious Darcy asked.

"Of course we are. In fact …" she said, and stared down at their hands that were still joined. "I would say you are close to my truest friend in the world right now."

Bashful Darcy actually blushed but could not seem to work out a response.

She continued, "I suppose I should mention that you are the most responsible man I know, while Weasel Bingley could not even manage a six-month lease, and the less said about my own father the better."

"You are harsh on Bingley, but I will admit he deserves it. I do not know if I will maintain the acquaintance. He wrote about the rumours in town, but the letter came when you were in a lot of distress that I could do nothing about save gnash my teeth."

"What did you do?"

"I replied telling him to either return to school and learn to write, hire a secretary, or wait to talk to me in person, because I was tired of trying to decipher his hieroglyphics," then tossed it in the fire.

Elizabeth had no idea whether to cheer his determination, enjoy Mr Bingley's chagrin (presuming he could read better than write), or just laugh at Consistent Darcy's knowledge of four-syllable words.

"Bravo. I offer my… ah… commendation," she finally worked out, which set them to giggling again.

She finally said, "I suspect we have wrung all we might out of the syllable game, though we are far from finished with the mirror. I cannot, however, determine if I want to quit just because you are better at it."

"Perhaps, as you once told me over the pianoforte, your tongue as capable as any other woman of superior elocution, but you just cannot be bothered to practice."

Elizabeth laughed happily, while shaking her finger at him like a naughty boy.

He continued blithely, "For the moment, I will happily accept your approbation and discontinue this frivolity. Are you hungry?"

She laughed gaily, then said, "I could eat," somewhat bashfully for no good reason.

Industrious Darcy went to the door and waved to Cecil, who was sitting with Jennings reading Aesop's Fables and Chaucer respectively.

There was a good stew and fresh bread on the fire already, care of Mrs Collins as usual, so it took but five minutes to have them happily eating away. Jennings had obtained a lap-table for eating in bed, so Elizabeth ate from it while Darcy piled his bowl on the side and dug in.

Jane and Richard poked their heads in the door about halfway through the meal, but in the absence of smoke or breaking glass, decided to take their meal elsewhere.