Elizabeth must have lost her senses. That was the only reasonable explanation for her actions. That and maybe too many romance novels; she must attempt again at reading something dry like philosophy or even borrow Mr. Collins' Fordyce's Sermons to absolve this wanton behavior.

But when Darcy's eyes trailed down to her mouth, she felt not of anything familiar. The need to also examine his lips ran so deep and hot that her eyes took to her heart's dictation. Elizabeth's gaze locked on his mouth and watched as it opened, not for speech, but for another purpose entirely. Even her intact innocence could feel that a kiss was imminent.

And with a rush of pleasure deep within her, Elizabeth was shocked to the core that she wanted it. She wanted a kiss from this man she was determined to hate.

Leaning forward towards him in an attempt to use words to break the tension, this action was the only invitation Darcy needed. Gently at first, as though not to break her or this sudden reverie, Darcy bent his head and slid his lips across hers.

Although formerly chilled to the bone from the rain and the turret of emotions recently exclaimed, Elizabeth immediately warmed from this simple and intimate touch, his lips soft yet determined. In the next moment, he broke away only briefly for a breath before deepening the kiss and placing one hand upon her waist to steady them both.

Elizabeth knew not her actions nor herself in these few moments. With his hand hot against her, her own wandered in between them, grasping at the first item in its way, his lapel. With this engaged, her mouth decided to continue this sweet torment, and she kissed him back automatically.

Feeling thus, Darcy's other arm wrapped around her form, and his entire length pressed against hers and her back fell softly against the interior wall yet again. Their kisses turned feverish, so much so that Elizabeth forgot to breathe, her head swimming with fervor, lack of oxygen, and, lastly, confusion.

It was the confusion that finally made its way to the surface and caused her to break free of his hold. Darcy, immediately sensing her horror at their actions, stepped back a safe distance to catch his own breath, their chests in symphonic heaving.

"Miss…Elizabeth," he panted. Swallowing hard and attempting to stand tall once again, he continued, "Forgive me."

Shaking, Elizabeth hugged her arms around herself, frigid once again, the cold running deep into her stomach, causing her legs to buckle slightly. Seeing her waver, Darcy grabbed both elbows with his hands to steady her, but at her flinch, he recoiled once more. She was left speechless.

"I…" he began, and then stopped a moment to gather words that would perhaps appease her, "I shall not renew the sentiments which were so disgusting to you, unless, of course, you otherwise insist as is your right after my repulsive actions, but if I may…" Darcy paused once again when he caught her eyes, aghast, and he changed direction in his speech. "I shall not speak of it, Elizabeth. You have my word," he murmured, and her eyes immediately sought his at this softened tone. And she realized that she believed him. He gave her a tight smile. "Be not alarmed, madam. You need not subject yourself to a lifetime with me."

Air was not coming easily to Elizabeth. At his words though, a deep breath entered her lungs but remained until she was forced to breathe once again. An entrapment into marriage with him of course was her first thought, but after he concluded that she could be free, she felt somewhat bereft and unsure why. Gathering herself, she forced another deep breath before replying, "I am confident that is the right decision, sir."

Swallowing hard to dislodge the hard item in his throat, Darcy gave her a quick bow, and he hurried from her sight.

It felt to Elizabeth that a lifetime must have passed before she felt steady enough to walk back towards Hunsford. The storm had gone, leaving behind only traces in its wake of mud and puddles, and the wrinkled muslin of her air-dried frock. The sun had begun to sink towards the lake.

At last, the parsonage came into view over the top of a nearby hill. But before she could even plan what to say to Charlotte or Mr. Collins regarding her flight or haggard appearance, her best friend hurried towards her.

"Lizzie!"

Charlotte was a welcomed sight until Elizabeth locked with her gaze. Her friend was equal parts pale and flushed, hurrying towards her in a state of somewhat panic. "Lizzie," she called again, her breath short. "Lady Catherine is here. She is here and she wishes to speak with you." Charlotte swallowed and added quietly, "Demanded it, to be quite honest."

Elizabeth felt her stomach drop and the cold emanated from inside her once more. Without a doubt, there could be no other reason for the appearance of the lady. Attempting to hide her horror, Elizabeth replied coolly, "Where may I find her?"

As soon as Darcy reached the church and his horse, he broke into a gallop away. Unsure where precisely, just away.

The hard pace on both him and his steed did nothing to banish the memories of the feel of Elizabeth. Of her lips, of her body against him, of the soft sounds she made when he deepened the kiss.

But what also remained were her words of disgust at his proposal. Of her obvious hatred for him. That with even the risk of exposure of their impropriety, still she chose not to marry him.

Darcy was by no means inclined to force her hand; he would not choose to have her in marriage if she did not come willingly, but yet it still pained him greatly. He briefly thought of defending himself of her offenses against him, most particularly that of Wickham, but one single look at the horror across her face after their kiss, and he abruptly decided no. It would not bring him any gain.

No, he would have to hold onto the memory of her lips for the rest of his days as no such reoccurrence was surely to happen.

Darcy rode and rode until the sun began to sink into the west.

Silently, Charlotte led Elizabeth to the drawing room, sneaking glances at her friend's face as often as possible without seeming too obvious. Together, they entered to find a most ridiculous sight.

Lady Catherine stormed about the small room, slapping furniture in her path via her mahogany cane. Mr. Collins followed close behind in an attempt to dissuade her from further turmoil, and occasionally ducking out of sight of said cane. As soon as Elizabeth entered however, Lady Catherine stopped in her tracks, Mr. Collins nearly colliding with her. "Miss Bennet!" she shouted, stamping her cane down with an audible clack. "Where have you been? How dare you make me wait for such a length of time!"

"Lizzie, what on earth is going on?" asked Charlotte, her fingers twisting nervously. At the same time, Mr. Collins admonished his cousin, "Yes, Elizabeth," he panted, "where have you been?"

Elizabeth attempted to give Charlotte a reassuring smile. "Just a small misunderstanding, I'm sure." She leaned towards her. "But if we could have the room?" Charlotte nodded at once while Mr. Collins gaped until his wife practically dragged him from the room.

Before the door even closed behind them, Lady Catherine began, making no effort to keep her voice down. "You can be at no loss, Miss Bennet, to understand why I am here."

Elizabeth, as calmly as possible given her racing heart, clasped her hands demurely in front of her. "Indeed you are mistaken. I can not account for this honor at all."

Lady Catherine scoffed, stomping her cane again in fury. "Miss Bennet, I warn you, I am not to be trifled with. A report of a most alarming nature has reached me that you intend to be united with my nephew, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth knew for certain that her voice carried as there was an audible gasp and then a crash from the other room, sounding quite similar to a toe being stubbed hard on a chair. "I know this to be a scandalous falsehood, although not wishing to injure him by supposing it possible, I instantly set off to make my sentiments known."

Elizabeth blanched at her words, but remained steadfast, her tone a touch mocking. "I am curious of the nature to your inquisition, ma'am. Did this rumor come from idle gossip or Mr. Darcy?" Her blood thrummed in the veins for fear the gentleman did not keep his word.

Lady Catherine practically hissed in reply. "I have seen neither hide nor hair of my poor nephew since the service. No, it was Mrs. Jenkinson who saw you, my dear girl, and Colonel Fitzwilliam just about confirmed it when he admitted to seeing you flee in the direction of the lake!"

Elizabeth gained but little comfort that it was not Mr. Darcy who spoke of this afternoon's transgressions, but she closed her eyes in obvious pain. Of course they were seen. They were out in the open! How foolish she was to believe they could pretend otherwise.

Lady Catherine was not yet finished in her tirade. "To think of you, a young woman of inferior birth, throwing yourself at him like a red woman," she shouted, a sneer of disgust across her face. "As if the shades of Pemberley could be thus polluted!"

Anger and shame coursed through Elizabeth. "I must beg my leave at once, ma'am. I will not listen to this. You have insulted me in every possible method and can now have nothing further to say. Good night!"

"Not so fast, you selfish girl! It is obvious you know not my words, so let me be understood. Mr. Darcy is engaged to my daughter. Now what have you to say?"

"Only this - if that is the case you can have no reason to suppose he will make an offer to me." It took all effort to keep her voice even.

"Oh, obstinate girl! This union has been planned since their infancy. No matter what nefarious actions you sought with him, you lowly, wanton girl, you will not accomplish your feat!"

"That is quite enough, aunt." Neither had noticed Mr. Darcy enter the room, his wind blown hair and red cheeks making it quite plain that he must have just arrived by stallion. Although his voice had not risen, the tone made plain his fury, his eyes directed viciously at Lady Catherine. "I shall not allow such language directed at the young lady." Charlotte and Mr. Collins loomed in the doorway, frozen with shock and awe.

Lady Catherine scoffed. "Darcy, do not trouble yourself so with this horrid thing! I am but here to make it plain that she cannot have you. You belong to Anne."

Darcy strode into the parlor, placing his gloves and hat upon the table before towering over his eldest relative. "The only thing that must be made plain is your abhorrent behavior towards Miss Bennet. That, and Anne and I will never marry, no matter what plans you and my mother had for us."

Lady Catherine drew back, frozen for a moment before coming to. "You know not what you say, Darcy! You and Anne must marry - it is the proper thing!"

Darcy gave her a stiff and unyielding bow, his hands clasped behind his back. "I assure you that my proprietary is alive and well."

At his words, Elizabeth blushed brilliantly, but she did not catch his eye. Seeing her attempt, Lady Catherine turned back towards her, not yet ready to accept defeat. "Miss Bennet, you will stop trifling with me this instant. Tell me so at once! Are you engaged to Mr. Darcy?"

A silence curled about the room as each and every one waited on a response from Elizabeth, including Darcy, although he was by no means prepared for her answer. With a deep breath attempting courage to embrace the inevitable, she finally answered.

"I am."