A/N: Hello. Welcome. Before you start, please note that this is in the Regency context but not in the Regency style of writing. This is done on purpose, and I am aware it is happening. Deep breaths. I promise it is not the end of the world. However, if this is a deal breaker for *you*, DON'T READ. It really is that simple. There's no need to send me hateful PMs trying to 'school' me about it. It is even less necessary that you let your racism and xenophobia slip... in writing. How dare I, a non-native, non-British English speaker, do something so heinous as write a *non-canon* P&P fanfiction differently than expected? There's no need to 'teach' me all about the context, the style, or the 'rules' of writing Regency or Austen. I have a B.A. in English. I also have a Master's in Translation and an . in English Teaching. No need to pretend you are Jane Austen coming back from the dead herself with your shock, scorn, and judgment. No need to announce you will not continue to read. Just click out. Go. One would think I tortured a puppy on live streaming. This is just a story. No need to take out the pitchforks and torches. Those of you that -even with such a mortal sin I committed- still want to read a cute romantic story with the characters we all love, please proceed. If you hate me already, just leave. Go find a story that meets your very particular standards, or better yet... write one. Any bullying and hate, either in PMs or reviews, will get you blocked. -Lux-

Miss Elizabeth Bennet wasn't a woman prone to hysterics, unlike her dear mama. This served her well on many occasions, such as this one. As she was helped off the carriage, reality shook her to her core. Before her stood a stately home. No, it wasn't a home; it was a manor. The most beautiful manor she had ever seen. Its style was English Baroque and Italianate. Three floors with many tall, simple windows. The only other manor of its stature she had visited, Rosings Park, while larger and more ornate, looked eerie and cold. Pemberley looked warm, welcoming, and homely.

It was such a stark difference to her everyday reality. Pemberley was an elegant physical manifestation of old money. It was clearly the work of many generations, each more committed to improving it than the previous one. Elizabeth sighed. She had been so wrong. Now she understood everything. Of course, Mr. Darcy was very uncomfortable in social gatherings in her hometown. He had nothing in common with the townspeople. Of course, Mr. Darcy was proud. Seeing the condition of a property he had managed for years without the help of his parents, Elizabeth realized that he had every right to be extremely proud. His arrogance was unnecessary, true, but if she lived in such a place, perhaps she would feel she had a right to look down her nose at everyone else.

Elizabeth had never seen such a stunning building so beautifully placed. The lake, the forest around it, the garden, the lawns, and even the roads were perfectly maintained. Seeing his home, it all made sense. His ill-phrased proposal, his reticence to associate with her and her family, and his scruples about their relationship -or lack thereof at this point- were self-explanatory. His circumstances slapped her violently across the face. They were from such different stations in life that they may as well be from different planets. The magnificence of his estate made her feel small and unimportant, so stupid and naïve. She could have been mistress of all of this… But no.

She had not only refused him in the meanest of ways, but she had carefully chosen her words to wound and offend him as much as she could. She saw a flash of his deeply hurt expression when she called him ungentlemanly. Everyone's eyes here would light up when they talked of their Master. Apparently, he was an entirely different person at home, or rather, he was his true self at home, where he felt comfortable and welcome. She found herself wishing she could see him where he felt at ease. Perhaps that would… No. It was too big of a mess. Elizabeth felt so stupid. His letter had given her the biggest wake-up call and realization of her life. Even his handwriting was beautiful and ornate and perfect. She turned to look at the lake and the beautiful swans enjoying its cool waters. When she read his letter, she wasn't expecting it to make her question all the beliefs she had held steadfast about herself. Mr. Darcy's proposal, while rude, was in every way truthful.

Elizabeth kept praying that Mr. Darcy was indeed far away. She hadn't been able to convince them not to come here without raising suspicion. She couldn't even imagine what she would do if she were to run into him here. She would die of mortification. She was sure it was possible for her to combust spontaneously if the earth didn't swallow her whole first. She focused on the beautiful clear skies to assuage her nerves. A footman talked to her aunt and uncle and asked them to wait while he fetched the housekeeper. Lizzie turned to the main doors and tried not to peer after him. Curiosity was killing her, but she refrained. She didn't want anyone to tell Mr. Darcy that some strange chit had been trying to spy on his home.

The housekeeper introduced herself, but Lizzie merely smiled a bit and nodded, happy to let her aunt do the introductions. Mrs. Gardiner had been very confused when her niece asked her not to divulge that she knew Mr. Darcy, but she had promised she would try not to mention it. As she stepped into the black and white checkered marble of the foyer, Lizzie finally understood her mother's nerves and almost called out for her salts. She looked up in awe at the painted ceilings. She followed a few meters behind her aunt and uncle. She heard bits and pieces of what Mrs. Reynolds was saying.

"-It is a pity that Mr. Darcy isn't home as often as he wishes."

"Oh? Pardon the presumption, but I would think it's better for the staff when the house is empty," Mr. Gardiner chuckled. He knew their own servants were surely happy now that they were doing this little tour.

Mrs. Reynolds smiled, "In most homes, perhaps, sir. However, Mr. Darcy is so good to us that when he's not here, he is sorely missed by all of us, but especially by his dear sister."

"How old is Miss Darcy? Are they close?"

"Sixteen years old. The late Mrs. Darcy died in childbirth. Then, when the late Mr. Darcy passed away, five years ago, his son became like a father to his sister. She was but eleven years old. He gave up most of his youth to take care of his sister. They have such a beautiful bond. I have rarely seen such a close relationship with siblings so many years apart," Mrs. Reynolds smiled fondly.

"Really? Pray, how old is Mr. Darcy?"

"He's twenty-eight years old. We keep hoping he will find a Mrs. Darcy soon… That way, he would relocate to Pemberley almost permanently. He loves it here."

"Who could blame him? It's a beautiful estate. He must be a very diligent owner."

"Oh, he really is. But he is ever so kind. He is always trying to find ways to improve the lives of all his tenants. We are all in his debt beyond the normal relationship between master and staff."

As the daughter of a gentleman of a small estate who grew up with a few servants, Elizabeth had learned very young that the opinion of the people working for a family could make or break a reputation. Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper who oversaw the tour, couldn't say enough good things about the Master of the House. They went from room to room, and they finally reached the gallery. Elizabeth wrapped her shawl around her tighter as she suddenly felt cold. The house itself was a masterpiece, and every detail of the décor seemed to belong in a gallery as well.

Elizabeth walked through the gallery, taking slow, deep breaths. Every painting, every vase, every sculpture was breathtaking. This house was almost screaming at her in her mother's voice. See? You could have had all of this, Lizzie! But no, you ruined it! Again! You didn't save your sisters from destitution by marrying Mr. Collins, and you dared to refuse a man who was so in love with you that he was willing to climb down from his palace and his hefty social circle, exposing himself to judgment and scorn, and ask you for your hand. Elizabeth took a slow, deep breath to prevent herself from crying as she stared at the sculptures, losing herself in a beautiful piece of a woman wearing a veil.

"This is Mr. Darcy," Mrs. Reynolds guided Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner to a sculpture ahead.

Her voice and statement made Elizabeth jump in fright. She thought the housekeeper meant he was in the house. Fortunately, that wasn't the case. She walked toward the sculpture very slowly. When she caught up with the others, her aunt whispered,

"Handsome face. Is it a true likeness, Lizzie?"

Mrs. Reynolds, who had a very good ear, heard her, and replied in a surprised tone, "Does the young lady know Mr. Darcy?"

Mrs. Gardiner grimaced; she really thought she had whispered very softly.

Elizabeth stared at the perfectly sculpted piece before her. She could almost feel his piercing gaze staring at her. "Only a little, madam."

"And do you not find him handsome?"

Lizzie blushed, but she slowly replied, "Yes, yes… I dare say he is."

Mrs. Gardiner squeezed her hand apologetically, but Lizzie stayed rooted to the spot. Her eyes wouldn't move from his face.

"And through here is his sister: Miss Georgiana," Mrs. Reynolds walked her aunt and uncle away.

By the time Lizzie realized she had been staring at his marble likeness for a long time, she was all alone in the gallery. As there was no one in there but her, she allowed her hands to reach toward the bust. It was so smooth and cool to the touch. Whoever the artist was, they had done a superb job. His chiseled square jaw, his regal nose, his eyebrows, his hair, his eyes… his lips. She remembered how even in the middle of their heated argument when he proposed, there was a moment where she thought he would pull her against him and kiss her. He had looked at her, searching for something. He stared at her lips for a moment, but he apologized and left. The more Lizzie thought about it, the more she realized that she wouldn't have resisted.

Mr. Darcy was indeed a very handsome man. Her hands cupped his jaw. She wondered if he was always smooth-shaven or if she would feel his incoming beard. His hair was always so clean and soft. Even when she tried to ignore the reasons behind it, she had always been hyper-aware of him. She could still remember how he smelled. Shaving foam? Cologne? Him? It was fresh, woodsy, citrusy, and so masculine and attractive. His letter smelled like him. She had found herself sniffing the parchment frequently while the smell lasted. She sighed. Looking around quickly, she made sure no one was in the gallery. She had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the bust, and holding on to the column base supporting it, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips against the cool marble likeness of his lips.

This was her way to say goodbye. She was sure that she would never see him again, and even if they ran into each other, as unlikely as it was, she was sure he would pretend he didn't know her. Not that she blamed him. She would do the same if roles were reversed. She kissed the smooth forehead, where it wasn't covered by 'hair,' and sighed. I am sorry, Mr. Darcy. I hope you will find someone more worthy of you. I hope you find someone who will make you happy. I know I will likely remain alone forever. You were right. We couldn't be more apart in circumstances. Lizzie was shaken out of her musings by a happy melody… Her melody. It was the song she always chose to play and had played so badly at Rosings Park was being expertly played by a more proficient musician.

Could it be? Could it be the famous Miss Darcy? Lizzie just wanted a peek. She wanted to see if the girl looked like him. The door to the music room was ajar. She saw half the pianoforte. A young blonde girl's deft feminine fingers stroked the keys beautifully. Her golden hair fell in loose curls down her back. Half of it was held away from her face with two beautiful ornate combs. Lizzie was so lost in the music that she didn't see a man approaching the piano from the side until it was too late. The man placed his large, gloved hand on the top of Miss Darcy's hair. The girl gasped, jumped up, turned, and launched herself into his waiting arms.

"Brother!" Miss Darcy laughed with delight.

"Gigi!" Mr. Darcy laughed as well as he twirled his beloved sister around. Unfortunately, in one of those twirls, his eyes found hers. He stopped twirling abruptly, and his eyes widened in recognition.

Elizabeth gasped and ran for her life. She ran until she reached the front steps to leave the house. She would have kept running, but he was coming after her.

"Miss Elizabeth!" Mr. Darcy called out. His longer, muscular legs caught up to her quickly.

Lizzie felt so ashamed. Her embarrassment couldn't be put into words. She blushed furiously and fidgeted with her shawl. "I thought you were in London."

Mr. Darcy shook his head briefly, trying to clear his head and convince himself she was real. "No. No, I am not."

"No," she fidgeted with her hands. Why is his voice like a gentle caress?

Both began talking rapidly, simultaneously trying to explain themselves.

"We wouldn't have called if we knew you'd be home," she said, blushing.

"I came back early to discuss some business with my steward," he said, blinking rapidly.

He looked at her with such emotion that she had to look down to collect herself. Quick, Lizzie, say something! She smiled a bit forcefully, "I am in Derbyshire with my aunt and uncle."

Mr. Darcy nodded, "And are you having a… pleasant trip?"

"Very pleasant," she tried to smile, but shame was trying to drown her. "Tomorrow, we go to Matlock."

"Tomorrow?" he asked with trepidation.

Lizzie nodded but looked down.

"A-Are you staying in Lambton?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"Yes, at the Rose and Crown," she replied, feeling dumb. It was the only inn there was in the area. Of course, he knew.

"Yes," he nodded with a small smile.

Lizzie couldn't take it anymore. Tears were stinging her eyes. Her cheeks colored, and she looked up apologetically, "I am so sorry to intrude. They said that the house was open for visitors. I had no idea-" she trailed off as he shook his head gently, trying to assuage her fears.

He shook his head rapidly. Softly, he asked, "May I see you back to the village?"

"No!" she replied before she even realized what she had said.

He blinked and looked pained and embarrassed. He even took half a step back and paled a bit.

She smiled apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. She never wanted to be rude to him again. She wouldn't have refused in different circumstances, but seeing him again was turning her brain to mush, "I am very fond of walking…"

His expression remained as he nodded, "Yes. Yes, I know." He scanned her face quickly, and his eyes stared at her lips for a second, but it was so fast she thought she must have imagined it.

"Please, don't trouble yourself, sir… You must be tired from your trip. I… I wouldn't want to pull you away from your sister. She looked so happy to see you. I don't want to intrude any further."

He took a hesitant step forward. "Miss Elizabeth, for my sake. Allow me to accompany you, please. You are a great walker, true, but you don't know this area.… If something happened to you, and you were all alone, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself," his voice was gentle but firm, and Lizzie could do nothing but nod. "Thank you. I will be back in a minute."

Mr. Darcy ran up the stairs she had run down before and whispered quite a bit to a confused footman. He was quickly handed his coat and a woman's coat, his sister's probably, and he walked back toward her. He looked a bit nervous when he offered her his arm, expecting her not to take it but hoping she would. He had to take one deep breath to compose himself when her small hand landed on the crook of his elbow. Unbeknownst to Lizzie, he felt electricity every time their skin touched. They began walking in silence. Mr. Darcy didn't even try to hand her the coat. Elizabeth marveled at the sheer body heat coming off him. She was quite cold already. Mr. Darcy walked slower than he usually did. Lizzie didn't want to believe it was because of her. Could he be trying to lengthen the duration of this walk? No, of course not. He just knew his steps were much larger than hers, and he was being considerate.

"How long have you been traveling, Miss Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy asked once they were on their way out of the stone floors.

"A few days… Um… Mr. Darcy, where are we going?" she looked at their deviation from the road.

"Back to the village," he smiled a bit.

"I thought we would walk on the main road."

"I thought you would appreciate this route more... It's more scenic," he finished a bit lamely. He cursed his inability to charm like Bingley and the colonel.

"Oh…" Lizzie smiled a bit. "Thank you." My mother will kill me when she sees I ruined these lovely shoes in one of my adventures, she thought.

Mr. Darcy stopped and placed his no longer gloved hand on top of her cold one, stopping her from walking. He bent his head closer to hers and whispered, "Miss Elizabeth, look," he pointed high up a tree. A large owl slept placidly there.

"It's beautiful," Lizzie noticed his hand was warm.

"There are many owls here. That is one of the least common ones, the eagle owl," Mr. Darcy resumed their walk.

"Mr. Darcy…"

"Yes?"

"I… I am really puzzled… Why are you being so kind to me?"

Mr. Darcy sighed and let go of her hand. "Why wouldn't I be, Miss Elizabeth? I… I really wish you wouldn't always think the worst of me…"

She impulsively grabbed his hand, "I don't. I couldn't. I-"

"Miss Elizabeth, I want to-"

"Mr. Darcy! Help!" a young girl ran to them. From her appearance, she looked to be the daughter of one of the tenants.

"Mary? What's wrong?"

"My sister, sir!" the girl was crying.

"What happened?"

"The baby was coming, but it got stuck! Help us!" she covered her face with her hands.

Lizzie turned to the man, baffled and scared for whoever Mary's sister was. Mr. Darcy looked at her apologetically and turned around. He put his fingers in his mouth and loudly whistled four times. Soon enough, two stable boys galloped and reached them atop a beautiful black horse.

"Daniels, fetch the doctor and another midwife immediately. Tell them Miss Anton's baby is stuck. Roberts, tell Mrs. Reynolds what happened and have her get the room next to the nursery ready. Tell her to have one of the footmen ready a carriage."

"Miss Elizabeth, I… P-Please come with me. It's not that far away, and once the carriage is brought, I will have them take you to the Rose and Crown."

"Mr. Darcy, you needn't trouble yourself… I can walk. Go. It's clearly urgent."

"But, I-" He looked conflicted and squeezed her hand that was still holding his. "May I call on you tomorrow, Miss Elizabeth?"

Lizzie nodded quickly with a small smile, "Of course, sir. I'd be honored. Godspeed."

His smile told her that was the perfect thing to say. He turned and whistled again. A couple of horses galloped quickly toward them, "Mr. Darcy, sir. Your horse."

"Andrew, please escort Miss Elizabeth to the Rose and Crown. Mary, let's get you on the horse so we can get to your mother quickly," Darcy said.

Elizabeth felt so impressed at how he spoke with authority, and yet his tone was respectful. The young footman nodded and moved to stand to her side. Mr. Darcy handed her the coat he had been handed for her to borrow and then helped Mary up. He got on the horse with one swift move. He ensured she was holding as well as possible, considering there was no side saddle. Mr. Darcy wrapped his arm around Mary and took off at such speed that he raised a cloud of dust in his wake. The footman got off the horse.

"Madam, excuse me. I don't know your full name."

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet. What is yours?"

"Andrew White, madam, at your service. Footman in training," Andrew bowed. "Allow me to help you up the horse."

She took a step back, "No, Mr. White. I thank you. I am no horsewoman."

"But the Rose and Crown lodge is at least four miles away, madam," Andrew was perplexed.

"I know. Worry not. I am very fond of walking. Please return to your duties, Mr. White. I can get there on my own."

"Miss Bennet, please don't send me away... You will get me dismissed."

"Surely not. They could use you better in this emergency. Why would you get fired?"

"Miss Bennet…Um… Mr. Darcy… He is…" Andrew seemed to struggle regarding what he could reveal. "He is extremely protective of women he thinks are under his care. He wouldn't have asked me to go with you unless he considered you as such."

Elizabeth blushed and looked down. She couldn't help but feel special, "Very well, then. Let us go so you may return as soon as possible, Mr. White."

"Yes, it looks like it will rain soon."

It took them one hour to get to the lodge. Mr. White stayed until her aunt and uncle found her in the dining area. Andrew had to sit down and have some refreshment at Miss Bennet's insistence. Once the Gardiners thanked him profusely, and as soon as he finished, he excused himself and left as fast as his horse could take him back to Mr. Darcy. He was no doubt needing his assistance. The copious rain that started as soon as Miss Elizabeth went inside wouldn't stop him.

"Lizzie, where were you?"

"Mrs. Reynolds invited us to have tea in the kitchen," her uncle said with a smile and patted his round belly. "You missed it. They had such wonderful treats. Even hot chocolate."

"That sounds lovely. I am so sorry. I stayed in the gallery for a while… Then I got distracted… by some music," Lizzie replied, trying not to blush.

"Music, dear?" her aunt asked as she poured herself a cup of tea.

"Yes, aunt… I… Miss Darcy was in the house. I... I heard her playing the piano."

"Oh! I see. Did you get to meet her?" Mrs. Gardiner smiled as she poured tea for her husband.

"No. I saw her from afar and quickly left… I felt like I intruded."

"Intruded?" her uncle frowned.

"Mr. Darcy came back home earlier."

"Oh! Did you talk to him?" her aunt asked.

"I would like to make his acquaintance," her uncle said.

"I think you might…" Lizzie trailed off.

"What? Why?"

Lizzie told them -the censored version, of course- about her meeting with the gentleman and that he was called away in an emergency, but he said he would call on her the next day.

Mr. Darcy groaned as he stood up from the wooden floor when he heard the doctor clearing his throat.

"Mr. Darcy," the doctor said.

"How is she?"

"Esther bled a lot, but with God's grace, both she and the baby survived. It's a beautiful, healthy girl," the doctor announced.

Mr. Darcy sighed, "Thank God… Thank you, doctor. Thank the midwife, please. When can we move her?"

"Tomorrow. She will recover much better in your home, sir. It is quite generous of you."

"Nonsense. She has been through a lot. I hope having her here helps."

"She will need a lot of rest and plentiful food and drink."

"I will make sure she has everything she needs."

"Wonderful. Now, for the apothecary, I have this."

"Could you order it on your way back, please? Tell him to send it to Pemberley, and I will pay him there."

"Of course, sir."

"Mr. Darcy, Esther is asking for you," the midwife peered out.

Mr. Darcy blushed, "Is she… I…"

"She's properly covered, sir. Her sister is with her."

Darcy nodded and went into the small room.

A/N: Thank you for reading. I took the image from this link. Not sure if this poster is the artist, but I really liked it. r/PrideandPrejudice/comments/pxegum/lizzy_had_she_been_a_bit_more_daring_and_alone_in/