Author's Note: This is a story that has been percolating in my scribbles file folder for a while. It is not finished, even in my own mind. But I do know the direction that I want it to go. There will be no blatant compromise, no forced marriage, and no terrible angst. This is simply a story of Darcy and Elizabeth clearing the air a little earlier than in canon and will not follow Miss Austen's story very closely after Jane's illness at Netherfield. A few people will be a touch out of character.

I altered the date of Jane's trip to Netherfield for the purposes of this story. I think in fanfiction it is assumed that she went on Tuesday. However, I moved it up one day to have her going on that Monday. I couldn't squeeze everything in using the Tuesday to Sunday scenario for their stay at Netherfield.

I would like to post once a week, but not sure that will be possible with the flurry of real life.

This is unbeta'd. All the mistakes are my own. Please review.

Chapter 1

Netherfield Park, Thursday, November 14, 1811

Elizabeth Bennet bestowed a light kiss on her sleeping sister's forehead and gave a nod to the maid who would be sitting with Jane for the rest of the night. Relieved that her sister's fever that had raged for the past two days had finally broken, she gathered her sewing and her book in preparation for returning to her room to get some much-needed sleep. With the improvement of her sister's health, she sincerely hoped that they would be able to return to their own home very soon.

For the last several days, Elizabeth and Jane had been staying at Mr. Charles Bingley's estate, Netherfield Park. Netherfield shared a border with their father's estate of Longbourn, and there was a mere three miles between the manor houses. The two properties were the primary estates in this small portion of Hertfordshire.

Mr. Bingley had taken the lease on the property and moved in just after Michaelmas, and in the last month, he had caused quite a stir in the nearby market town of Meryton. For he was young, handsome, wealthy, and single, which had put all the local matrons into quite the frenzy to promote their daughters as possible marriage partners. Being an amiable, friendly gentleman, he had enthusiastically entered into the society in the area.

In addition, this sociable gentleman had brought with him a small party from London consisting of his two sisters, Caroline Bingley and Louisa Hurst, as well as Louisa's husband, Albert Hurst, and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. In contrast to Mr. Bingley's eagerness to mix with the denizens of Meryton, the rest of his party had shown nothing but the barest of civilities to the locals and had looked down upon the Bennets and their neighbors with ridicule and disdain. While the sisters were fashionable, attractive ladies, they had quickly alienated the neighborhood by making it apparent that they considered themselves to be above their company. Mr. Hurst made little impression on the society other than that he enjoyed food, spirits, hunting, and cards. Mr. Darcy was a handsome, extremely wealthy, single gentleman who had been friends with Bingley since their days at university. Yet he possessed none of the easy amiability of his friend. For he had quickly impressed the community with his haughty, proud manners, and thus, they had branded him to be an unpleasant, disagreeable sort of man such that even his reputed ownership of Pemberley, a vast estate in Derbyshire, could not render him to be charming. In particular, he had insulted Elizabeth within her hearing at the Meryton Assembly upon their initial introduction to the neighborhood. There, he had refused to be introduced to her and had told his friend, "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me."

However, Mr. Bingley had been captivated by Jane's beauty from that same initial introduction. And it was no wonder, since Jane was the undisputed jewel of the county with her blue eyes, blond hair, lovely figure, and sweet nature. Mr. Bingley's sisters had deemed her to be an acceptable young lady and had singled her out from the rest of the Meryton inhabitants to be their friend.

On the previous Monday, Jane had been invited for tea with his sisters. However, having received a drenching in the rain during her ride over to Netherfield, she had come down with a rather serious cold and had been forced to stay the night.

The next morning, upon receiving news that Jane had developed a fever and that the apothecary had been called by Mr. Bingley to examine Jane, Elizabeth had set out from her father's estate to walk the three miles to Netherfield to check on her sister. When she had been shown into Mr. Bingley's breakfast room, he had welcomed her effusively, whereas his sisters had greeted her with grudging cordiality. Elizabeth was conscious of their not-so-subtle, scornful examination of her windswept hair and muddy hems. Mr. Darcy had fixed his eyes on her face with an inscrutable stare, while Mr. Hurst had not even bothered to look up from his meal.

At Jane's plaintive entreaty and Miss Caroline Bingley's reluctant invitation, Elizabeth had been prevailed upon to stay to nurse Jane through her cold.

However, the next few days had proven to be quite an ordeal for Elizabeth. Mr. Bingley's sisters had been snide and condescending since their regard for Jane had not been extended to Elizabeth. Mr. Darcy had either stared at her like she was beyond his comprehension, or he argued with her about any opinion that she expressed. Only Charles Bingley had been convivial and solicitous.

Needless to say, by Thursday morning, Elizabeth was anxious to return to her own home. However, Jane's fever continued, unabated.

Much like the previous two nights, Elizabeth had gone downstairs for dinner while Jane was sleeping, and as per usual, she had been made to feel unwelcome by all but Mr. Bingley. Miss Bingley had spent the entire meal attempting to garner Mr. Darcy's attention, for it was apparent that she had set her matrimonial sights on the man. When the lady had not been simpering and fawning over the gentleman, she had been busy lobbing snide comments toward Elizabeth. Despite the fact that he had publicly declared Elizabeth to be below his notice, it seemed that Miss Bingley considered her to be a rival for Mr. Darcy's favor. Elizabeth could not imagine why her hostess had arrived at that conclusion. In reality, Elizabeth was not in the least interested in gaining the rude, haughty man's notice. For his part, Mr. Darcy had appeared to barely tolerate Miss Bingley's attentiveness. Throughout dinner, he had only responded to her constant address with the most meager of replies. Though ever the gentleman, he had maintained his stoicism.

Often during dinner, Elizabeth had looked up to find that Mr. Darcy's eyes were fastened on her. He never smiled at her or acknowledged in any way that he had been caught staring. However, she had sensed that he was trying to puzzle her out, as if she was a specimen of indeterminate origins. On the previous evenings, he had played cards, conversed with the others, attended to correspondence, or argued with Elizabeth. However, this time, he had been quite uncommunicative as he sat apart from the rest of the group. Furthermore, in contrast to his normally controlled consumption of alcohol, he had been content to allow the footman to top off his brandy with regularity.

Nevertheless, Elizabeth had no time to dwell on the eccentricities of the party, since she had been unable to remain in their company for very long. For Jane's fever had spiked that evening after dinner requiring Elizabeth's undivided attention. After bathing her sister's forehead for several hours and pressing her to take sips of willow bark tea and water, she had been rewarded with seeing Jane's fever break.

Now, finally able to leave her in the care of the maid, Elizabeth knew that it had to be after midnight and that the other residents of Netherfield Park had probably all retired long ago. However, as she reached her door, she heard the faint sound of billiard balls impacting one another indicating that some of the gentlemen were still awake downstairs.

After donning her night gown, Elizabeth moved about the room snuffing out candles and banking the fire in preparation for climbing into bed. Yet, before she had reached the last of the candles, several loud thumps in the servant's passage outside her room broke the silence. She stood uncertainly at the foot of her bed and gathered her shawl about her shoulders. In the next instant, the door leading to said passage swung open. Expecting to see one of the housemaids, she was shocked to see none other than Mr. Darcy step into her room. Moving quickly, she scrambled around to stand on the opposite side of the bed.

Outrage flooded her whole being, and she hissed in a harsh whisper, "Mr. Darcy, how dare you? What do you think you are doing? I insist that you leave my room immediately!"

In contrast to his normally haughty mien, his expression resembled that of a remorseful, small boy who had just received a severe scolding, and his gentlemanly bow lacked its normal grace, for he very nearly pitched forward during its execution. She quickly deduced that he was quite drunk. Before she could chastise him further, he blurted out, "Miss Lisbet…"

"Shush, sir." She interrupted him with a furious whisper. "You must be quiet. You will bring the whole house down upon us."

He put his finger to his lips in childlike contrition and whispered loudly, "Miss Elizabet', I 'pologize for my late 'pearance in your ro-oom, but I have come to say how very sorry I am that I called you tolerable at the 'sembly. Bingley and I were downstairs pla-aying b-billiards, and he tol' me that you heard my ru-ude words. Forgive my unkindness, for you are m-much more than tolera'bable. In fact, you are the 'andsomest woman of my 'quaintance. Ple-ease accept my 'pology, for I couldn't bear to have you-u thinking po-oorly of me."

She shushed him again as his whisper had risen in volume with the desperation of his entreaty. She said in a scolding voice, "Mr. Darcy, I insist that you leave right this minute."

Ignoring her admonition, he pleaded, "Miss Elizabet, I beg you to forgive me. I was in a 'bominable mood that night."

In exasperation, she hissed, "Fine, I forgive you. Now please leave."

His smile of relief transformed his face, rendering him quite handsome. "Thank you, my de-ear Mizz Lizbet. You are everything loverly."

Suddenly, his knees collapsed under him, and he fell onto his posterior. His expression of utter confusion at finding himself on the floor was comical.

Elizabeth cried out softly in astonishment. "Are you all right Mr. Darcy?" However, she could not suppress a giggle at his bewildered expression but thought it prudent to maintain her wary position on the other side of the bed.

Though confused at his location, he appeared to decide that he was quite comfortable there sprawled in the middle of her bedroom floor with his legs stretched out in front of him. So, he leaned his back against the chair behind him and looked curiously around the room. "Miss Bingle certainly put you in a very plain, sma-all ro-oom." He said matter-of-factly, "You know that she doesn't l-like you very mu-uch and I'm 'fraid tha's because sh-she knows that I a'mire you."

Shocked at that disclosure, it took her a moment to collect herself and admonish him again, "Mr. Darcy, you must whisper. If anyone hears you and finds you in my room, my reputation will be ruined. You must be quiet, and you must leave my room this instant. I insist."

He smiled at her sweetly and whispered loudly, "I tol' Miss Bingley that you had fi-ine eyes. Tha's why she is so waspish towards you. Waspish like a shrew. W-waspish like a fish wife. She wants to be the nex' Mis'res of Pemerley, P-Pemberley. But that will ne'er happen." His expression took on a dreamy, yet dopey, aspect. "You do 'ave th' prettiest eyes. They sp-sparkle like s-stars, I mean, stars, and flash like lightning. They're pools, pools of em'rald green. I c-could stare into their depths all d-day." Seeming to have forgotten her presence, he leaned his head back against the chair, closed his eyes, and began to softly hum a melodious tune.

Elizabeth's face flushed at the compliments, and she had to stifle a laugh at his slurred speech and his uninhibited humming. She was surprised that he had such a nice baritone voice even when well in his cups. However, she reminded herself that this was serious, and she could not allow him to get too comfortable. So, she whispered as loudly as she dared, "Mr. Darcy, you must get up and leave immediately." When he continued humming as if she had not spoken, she stepped around the bed and kicked his boot with her slippered foot to get his attention. "Mr. Darcy, I beg of you to leave."

He gave her a startled, unfocused look and said softly with a dreamy expression, "You look just like Miz Elisbet. She is beautiful jus' like you. I wo-onder if Miss Elizabeth's plait is as long as yours. L-lovely, lovely, Mizz 'Lisabet. Like a queen." Then the dopey smile returned. "Loveliest Lizbet, such a caring sister… M-my sister Georgie needs a caring sister like Elizabet."

Then he frowned as another thought occurred to him. "Did you know…" He shook his head as if to gather his thoughts, then began again, "Did you know that my fa-ather's steward's son tried to trick my own sweet, f-fifteen-year-old sister into 'loping with him? Jus' this past s-summer. I sto-opped it, stopped it co-old." He punctuated that last word by pounding his fist on the floor. "The reproba-ate wanted her dowry. Sorry rap-rapscallion." He picked at a spot on the carpet as he spat out rather sullenly, "He is a Scoun-scoundrel, sedu-ucer, and gambler. He leaves d-debts everywhere," he exclaimed, illustrating that point with a broad wave of his hand. "A sm-smo-oooth lying snake, that's what he is."

Not comprehending what lying snake he was speaking of, but shocked that he would divulge something so scandalous about his sister, she interrupted his drunken mutterings. "Mr. Darcy, you must get up this instant. Please."

His eyes focused on her again. "Miss Lizbet, you must p-promise me to stay far, f-far away from George, G-george W-wickham. He ru-uins young m-maidens for sport. He is a _ of the worst sort." His eyes were pleading with her. "I could not b-bear it if any ha-arm came to you. Promise me that you will 'void the man."

Shocked at his language, she said in exasperation, "Yes, I promise to stay away from George Wickham, whoever he is. I will probably never meet him. So, you can rest easy. But you must leave now."

Once again, he ignored her admonition. "The man would have made a ter-terrible minister. I paid him three thousand, I tell you, three thousand po-ounds to give up any claim to the living my f-father left for him. Couldn't have a wo-olf, a-a wolf, I say, tending the fl-flock, now, could I?"

Once again, his head dropped back against the chair behind him, as he continued to mutter about the wastrel, George Wickham. Then he raised his head and focused blearily on her face again. "Miss Lisbet, you are tooo intelligeous, I mean intel-ligent, to fall for his treachery. I know that you would see through to his black heart. But you must be on your gua-ard. He is wily. Wily like a fox." Then his dopey smile returned. "You are sooo clever. I lo-ove debating with you. You speak your mind, and I like that. Miss Bingle agree-es with ever'thin' I say, jus' like a parrot. A big orange parrot. Her orange feathers tickle my nose. I really ha-ate feathers on la-adies hats. Promise me to never wear fea-athers." He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

She was shocked to hear that he had labeled their arguments as debates, because to her, they had always felt like contentious arguments. However, his colorful portrayal of Miss Bingley as a parrot showed that the dour gentleman could appreciate humor in the ridiculous. Perhaps she had misjudged him. Perhaps his enigmatic mask was just that, a mask.

He continued his drunken musings. "Miss Bingle thinks she is sooo accomplished. But it is you who are the truuly 'complished lady, Lizbet. You read and can argue ph'losophy like a u-univers'ty don. You are a graceful dancer, and I could watch you walk around the room all night loo-ong." His eyes were filled with a warmth that Elizabeth could not identify. "When you play the pi-pi-ano-for-forte with su-uch feeling, I feel it in my ve-ery soul. And your singing is 'eavenly. When you sang at Luucas Lodge, I wanted to whisk you away. Whisk you away to Pemerley. Whisk you 'way to my home."

Elizabeth sputtered in surprise at his words and could not stop herself from interjecting, "But you always have stared at me with such disapproval. You have never looked at me in admiration."

He simply smiled lazily and winked. "My dear Mizz Elizabeth, I 'ave found much to admire in you."

That slow wink sent a flush of warmth up her cheeks and a strange flutter in her heart. How shocking! The revelations from his rambling, inebriated mutterings were astonishing. Could he truly admire her?

Bringing herself out of her reflections, she knew that she had to get him out of her room quickly and quietly, or she, along with her whole family, would be ruined. She could puzzle out his behavior later. With that in mind and since the man seemed to be a harmless drunk, she walked over to his side, crouched down, and shook his shoulder. "Mr. Darcy, I beg of you to get up and return to your own room."

His expression took on a look of wonder as he stared earnestly into her eyes. Before she could gather her wits, he reached up and took her hand in his and bestowed a light, sweet kiss on it while never dropping his intense gaze. For a moment, she was struck dumb by the gesture but then she regained her senses and tried to tug her hand free, but he held it gently in his. Then, very softly and with a mesmerizing expression in his eyes he began to sing. She was familiar with the folk song but had never heard it sung this way. The slow tempo that he selected was captivating.

My bonny lass she smileth
When she my heart beguileth
Fa la la...
Smile less, dear love, therefore
And you shall love me more
Fa la la...
When she her sweet eye turneth
Oh, how my heart it burneth!
Fa la la...
Dear love, call in their light
Or else you burn me quite!
Fa la la...

Elizabeth was entranced. Although this was probably not his best performance, she could not look away from his face. His eyes held a soft warm light, and he sang low and slow. Inexplicably, she found that she wanted to weep with an emotion that she could not identify. To have a handsome man gaze at her with such an appealing look in his eye, hold her hand, and sing so sweetly was beyond her previous experience. It stirred her to her core. It was a beautiful moment, and she was completely undone. Once again, he laid his head back, closed his eyes, and continued humming as Elizabeth sat quietly beside him as if she were under a spell.

The humming ended and was followed by a soft snore bringing her back to the present, abruptly. To her consternation, she realized that Mr. Darcy had fallen fast asleep. Desperately she shook his shoulder saying, "Mr. Darcy, Mr. Darcy. Wake up."

His only response was to murmur something unintelligible and resume snoring. Elizabeth thought, "Oh no. How am I to get him out of here?"

Glancing around the room, she ran through her options frantically. Again, she tried to awaken him, but he did not respond to her pokes and prods.

She glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was nearly two o'clock. Thinking quickly, she decided that she would have to drag him out into the hallway and hope that no one heard anything. The only problem was that the hallway door was on the other side of the room, and he was a large man. It was doubtful that she could drag him such a distance. On the other hand, the door to the servant's passage was much closer. She would not have to drag him as far. Once she had him out in the passage, she could simply leave him there. No one would know that he had been in her room.

With her mind made up, she stood and moved to the servant's door. Placing her ear against it, she listened for any sound or movement on the other side and decided that it was safe to open it. However, as she cracked it open, she was barely able to stifle a scream. For there in the passage stood a strange man.

Greatly alarmed, she started to push the door closed when she heard the man whisper frantically, "Miss Elizabeth, I am Stevens, Mr. Darcy's valet."

She peered at him through the crack. He said very hastily, "Ma'am, I thought I heard Mr. Darcy's voice and wondered if he had gone into your room by mistake."

She searched his face for a moment. Then, with a great deal of trepidation, she quietly explained, "Well, I am aware that this looks very bad. But you must understand that I did not invite him into my room. He is well in his cups, and he entered without even knocking. I have tried repeatedly to get him to leave but to no avail. To make matters worse, he has fallen asleep, and I cannot rouse him."

He gave her a sympathetic look, and stated softly, "I know that you are by no means at fault. And I apologize on behalf of my master for any discomfort that you may have experienced."

Imploring him, she insisted, "Mr. Stevens, you must assure me that you would never tell another soul that Mr. Darcy was in my room, for it is none other than an unfortunate event and nothing untoward has occurred."

Stevens put his hand to his heart as if taking an oath and responded quietly, "I would never suspect you or Mr. Darcy of any impropriety. For I understand that you are a fine lady who always comports herself with the greatest respectability. And my master rarely over-imbibes, but when he does, he always maintains his moral integrity. So, you can rely on my discretion, for I would never spread rumors about you or my master. Please, allow me to help you remove him from your room."

Again, she searched his face to look for any signs of insincerity. Finally, deciding that he looked trustworthy and since she had little choice, she moved back to allow him to enter.

He walked around to Mr. Darcy and in one quick movement, pulled him up and hoisted him over his shoulder. Elizabeth looked on in amazement, for Mr. Darcy was a tall, well-built man.

He stopped and looked at her apologetically and whispered, "Miss Elizabeth, you realize that I will have to tell Mr. Darcy about what has occurred. For I doubt he will remember. But I cannot keep it from him. But I am sure that he will come to offer his apologies tomorrow."

Elizabeth held the door open and replied, "Well, you can tell him that I expect nothing from him. As long as my reputation is unharmed, we can simply pretend that it never happened."

"Yes, Ma'am. Goodnight," he said as he headed down the passage with his burden.

She quickly closed her door in relief and locked it. Then stood for a bemused moment looking at the place where, a moment ago, Mr. Darcy had been stretched out on her floor.

"How incongruous. Mr. Darcy of all people." she thought to herself. The man that she had just encountered bore no resemblance to the dour man that she had come to know over the past few weeks.

Climbing into bed, she could not keep from giggling to herself at the memory of his sweet words and his gentle behavior. As sleep overcame her, she saw deep blue eyes looking into hers and singing "My Bonnie Lass, She Smileth".