Air. She needed air.

Never mind that as soon as she pushed her way past the congregation and through the double doors, that the sky had opened and the heavens poured their emotions down upon her head. Never mind the calls from Charlotte or the poorly concealed reprimand from Mr. Collins, who, glumly, was waiting on a joyful declaration from his fair cousin regarding his illustrious service. And never mind Colonel Fitzwilliam and his look of concern at her pale complexion – his words echoing in her ears of what his cousin had done. What Darcy had done to Jane.

She couldn't breathe in the church. She could barely draw a breath in all of Kent for it shared air with such a hateful man. It was almost too much to bear. As soon as most of the churchgoers, with their large parasols and thundering carriages, were no longer in her line of sight, Elizabeth ran into the woods adjacent to the parish.

She knew not where, but she did not care. Years of thoughtful walks and solo journeys through the country gave comfort that she'd safely make her way back to Hunsford. The rain was sharp and unyielding, but it was a welcome distraction, a reprieve from the anger in her heart.

Finally, Elizabeth happened upon a desolate temple of Apollo, just outside the trees overlooking a lake, which with a strangled laugh, seemed bemusing that she found such refuge in the downpour under the God of the Sun.

Exhausted and out of breath, Elizabeth leaned against the interior column of the temple, absently feeling to remove her bonnet, but with a sigh, realized the wind must have taken it without her notice. Instead, she pulled her sodden shawl from her neck and sighed once again.

At the sound of a boot on the ground nearby, she opened her eyes to find Darcy with a start. Gasping, she jolted upright, shocked to the core at seeing the very man she hated most in the world, standing before her as soaked as she.

Seemingly unperturbed by the rain, Darcy solidified his resolve and spoke, "Miss Elizabeth." Unable to look at him another moment, Elizabeth lowered her gaze with a scoff, but his next words made her jerk her head up once more and stare at him in astonishment.

Taking a deep breath, Darcy continued in his speech, "I have struggled in vain but I can bear it no longer. The past months have been a torment. I came to Rosings with the single object of seeing you - I had to see you. I've fought against my better judgment, my family's expectations, the inferiority of your birth, my rank, all those things - but I'm willing to put them aside and ask you to end my agony." He stopped a moment for a breath, an expectant look upon his flushed face.

Unsure if her previous emotions in the church clouded her way of thinking, she bursted out, "I don't understand."

As if the words could hardly stay within him anymore, he explained, "I love you." At her blink, he continued, "Most ardently." Horrified, Elizabeth stiffened her stance, but she could not stop her jaw from falling open. "Please do me the honor of accepting my hand."

The seconds drew slowly together as Elizabeth continued to blink at Darcy. Swallowing hard, albeit wavering slightly, she collected herself and stood tall. "Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through, and I am very sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done."

Silence stretched as he blinked back. Elizabeth pursed her lips but held back a sneer when she realized she had shocked him stupid. He assumed she would have fallen at his feet in her acceptance.

When it became clear she would be doing no such thing, Darcy's voice hardened. "Is this your reply?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you laughing at me?"

Biting the inside of her cheek, she replied quickly. "No."

Incredulous, he continued. "Are you rejecting me?" His words came hard and fast now.

Dripping with disdain, she fixed her eyes on his. "I'm sure that the feelings which, as you've told me, have hindered your regard, will help you in overcoming it."

Unsure if it was her words or his sodden clothing, but Elizabeth swore she witnessed a shiver race down his spine. In the next moment it was gone and replaced with a steely resolve. "Might I ask why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus repulsed?"

Her emotions could no longer be held back. Trembling with the rush of feeling, she replied tartly, "I might as well enquire why, with so evident a design of insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your better judgment! If I was uncivil, that was some excuse - but I have other reasons, you know I have!"

Darcy scoffed, "What reasons?"

Decorum had run out of her veins with only disgust remaining for this man. "Do you think that anything might tempt me to accept the man who has ruined, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?" Silence. Darcy looked as if he'd been struck across the face she realized with relish. "Do you deny it, Mr. Darcy? That you separated a young couple who loved each other, exposing your friend to the censure of the world for caprice, and my sister," her voice breaking, "to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind?

Shaking himself from his shocked reverie, he exclaimed sternly, "I do not deny it."

Elizabeth was shocked to stillness at the brutal honesty. "How could you do it?" she whispered.

"Because I believed your sister indifferent to him."

"Indifferent?"

Impatient now, Darcy's words became short and spiteful. "I watched them most carefully, and realized his attachment was much deeper than hers."

Elizabeth couldn't help but interrupt and defend Jane. "That's because she's shy!"

Shaking his head, Darcy continued, "Bingley too is modest, and was persuaded that she didn't feel strongly for him."

"Because you suggested it!"

"I did it for his own good."

Gasping, Elizabeth shouted, "My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me!" She paused, taking a few breaths to try and bury the hate for his man. Nothing would be gained if she ran away with her feelings. Coldly, she continued, "I suppose you suspect that his fortune had some bearing on the matter?"

Sharply and offended, Darcy replied, "No! I wouldn't do your sister the dishonor. Though it was suggested," he stopped, remembering himself.

Elizabeth would not let it go. "What was?"

Sighing and resigned, "It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage -"

"Did my sister give that impression?"

Bubbling with angst and annoyance at being grilled so brutally, he blurted out, "No! There was, however, I have to admit, the matter of your family."

Elizabeth scoffed again at his blatant arrogance. "Our want of connection? Mr. Bingley didn't vex himself about that!"

"No, it was more than that."

"How, sir?" she ground out.

Temper flailing, Darcy snapped, "It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger sisters - even, on occasion, your father."

A burst of thunder clapped around them in that moment, as if Apollo was apologizing for the brutal words Darcy just revealed. The color drained from her face, knowing it to be true.

Darcy took a deep breath, remembering himself, trying to focus back on the woman and his love for her, and, to be honest, to try and forget his vexation with her. "Forgive me. You and your sister - I must exclude from this."

Turmoil rolled between them. Affronted by the hard truth, Elizabeth resolved to return to her previous dislike of the man. Her eyes ablaze, she choked out, "And what about Mr. Wickham?"

The effect was instantaneous. His teeth clenched, Darcy took a step forward into dangerous territory. "Mr. Wickham?" he hissed.

Elizabeth nodded, unperturbed by his countenance. "What excuse can you give for your behavior to him?"

"You take an eager interest in that gentleman's concerns!"

"He told me of his misfortunes."

Attempting to unhinge his teeth, Darcy flexed his jaw before replying scathingly. "Oh yes, his misfortunes have been very great indeed!"

She bared her teeth. "You have ruined his chances, and yet treat him with sarcasm?"

Somehow crowding into her space, the rain water still somehow hugged his eyelashes, but they didn't mask the anger in his blue eyes. "So this is your opinion of me! Thank you for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offenses might have been overlooked, if your pride had not been hurt -"

Elizabeth had to scoff. "My pride?"

He continued as if she had not interrupted. "- by my honesty in admitting scruples about our relationship. Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?"

Stepping forward and glaring up at him, "And those are the words of a gentleman? From the first moment I met you, your arrogance and conceit, your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, made me realize that you were the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."

A beat passed. And then another. Darcy's features plummeted into a gray tinge before he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Blood rushed in his ears, but her words echoed relentlessly nonetheless. He was at a loss, a first for him, on how to continue, on his next steps. She had rendered him mute and dumb and absolutely aghast at the turn of events.

But at the next moment, that precise pull between them that had haunted him for months, drew his eyes over her lovely face. And then he looked briefly down to her lips and thought, what if? His mouth opened on its own accord.

And just as quickly as he rendered that dangerous thought, he shook himself internally. His eyes jolted back to hers at the exact moment her features softened and her eyes trailed to his mouth. Urging himself to reply in some form of dignity, Darcy leaned forward, and to his utter shock, so did she.

Elizabeth's eyes, the so very fine eyes that brought Darcy to his knees, swam with something akin to want, but what she wanted, she did not know. Only this: she didn't know herself in that moment, and it felt oddly freeing. Her body reacted on its own accord.

Another beat passed, and when Elizabeth opened her mouth to try and make sense aloud, Darcy closed the remaining distance between them, securing them in the senseless.