Hi! I'm back with another chapter. Sorry it's taken me so long to get this up, but it's been a loooong month and I'm lazy, which is a bad combo for a writer. Anyway, enjoy. As always, thanks for reading. I'm always happy for feedback. Thanks,

Grace Sellers

The spell had not worked, Darcy remembered immediately after opening his eyes the next morning. He was still in the cursed Collin's house-and most vexingly of all was still Elizabeth Bennet.

He rolled over, wishing he could will himself to sleep away the day, away from the maddening reality.

A soft knock sounded at the door. "Lizzy, have you woken yet? I have a cup of tea for you," Charlotte said behind the door. Darcy pulled the pillow off his head, realizing he had only made his hair wilder and more difficult to plait.

But his stomach growled at the scent of hot tea and the sizzling bacon wafting through the door. "Do come in, Charlotte. I will take tea." His appetite overwhelmed his modesty.

"Good morning, dear Lizzy," Charlotte said as she entered the room, sitting uneasily close to him on the side of the bed. "You have been spending much time at Rosings lately. Mr. Collins wondered if a fancy may be brewing between you and the Colonel."

Darcy knew he pulled a horrified face. "No, Charlotte! Why is Mr. Collins concerned about how I spend my time?"

"I believe he ruled out any romance between you and Mr. Darcy, as Mr. Darcy is said to be engaged to Lady Catherine's daughter…."

"He is not engaged to Anne de Bourgh! I am not sure why people still believe that. Patently false."

Charlotte colored with surprise at Darcy's reaction.

"Very well, Lizzy. I thought you disliked the man."

Darcy was momentarily tongue-tied. "Mr. Darcy is not so bad," he finally said, blushing thoroughly. Here he was, in a dress, defending himself. What new depths might he reach?

At the breakfast table, Darcy was relieved to see Mr. Collins had already eaten and was out on the grounds pursuing an errand for Lady Catherine.

"We are very harsh on Mr. Darcy, but perhaps I have not examined my own character closely enough, Charlotte. At times, I am utterly ruled by my emotions. Am I not much similar to my sisters Lydia and Kitty?"

Charlotte took a sip of her coffee and smiled. "Lizzy, you are very much NOT like Lydia and Kitty. You and Jane are both a completely different breed."

Darcy tried again. "What about at the Assembly when I danced with the afflicted boy? He nearly threw me across the room. Was that common sense? Someone else could have been hurt. Mr. Darcy was perhaps correct to scold me."

Charlotte shook her head. "Since when do you agree with Darcy about anything? You said he was a self-serious scold. You dance with Thomas at most events, which makes you so kind and wonderful. You are one of the few who include him. Thomas has fewer fits, and you are always so good to him. Do not let Darcy's sour view stain your own dear one."

"Fits?" Darcy asked, pausing mid-bite from his toast.

"Yes, What did the physician call them? Apoplexy. Frightening enough that his father wants to send him away to an institution. Thankfully his mother has thought better of it. I know you worry what might happen to him as he grows older."

Darcy chewed his toast, thinking. So the boy at the assembly had the falling disease. Still, he might be a danger to himself or others. But now he better understood Elizabeth's urge to include the boy. He had not been intentionally dangerous, he could see now. That was very Elizabeth Bennet of her, he smiled to himself. She was always traipsing over things, be it property, propriety, or muddy fields, regardless of what others thought of her. It was a damnable quality. Perhaps he could stand to be a bit more like her at times.

Darcy disliked Collin's priggish sermon, where Colonel Fitzwilliam whispered bon mots to him throughout the service thinking he was speaking to Miss Bennet, and the lashings of rain that soaked them all upon returning from church.

Now he was shut up in Collin's small house with both Charlotte and Mr. Collins bustling about. After an hour of this, he gave up. He knew Collins had a bottle of mediocre whiskey in a cupboard off the dining room. When no one was about and the servants were out of the room, he poured a healthy amount into his teacup and poured tea on top of it. If he had to be cooped up here, he may as well not be completely sober, he reasoned. The whiskey burned his throat, but in a pleasant comforting way, he had missed. That was better. Perhaps he would nap away the afternoon. He took another hearty sip.

A few more sips and the cup was empty. Darcy was surprised at how quickly it disappeared. He poured another cup and again again added tea. Charlotte came through the room looking for an embroidery, asking Elizabeth if she had seen it. Darcy shook his head and smiled. He stopped when a footman entered.

"I have a note for the cook at Rosings. Might you deliver it to Rosing's kitchen please?" She produced a note for the footman.

Darcy jumped up. "I am happy to deliver it," Darcy said almost before the thought crossed his mind.

"No, Lizzy. You are not here to run my errands for me in the rain."

Darcy glanced outside and saw the rain had finally ceased, though the grounds were still wet. "But it has ceased raining. It would be pleasant to walk about the grounds and stretch my legs. I do not mind a jot, Charlotte. I would be happy to do so."

At that moment, Mr. Collins appeared at the doorway, hands resting on his plump stomach, asking if Charlotte had seen his spectacles.

Darcy winced.

"Charlotte, I do need the walk," Darcy said. Charlotte nodded and Darcy took the note just as Mr. Collins began speaking.

"Very good, cousin. Physical exercise is excellent for the body and the soul…" Mr. Collins said as Darcy slipped out the door.

Outside it was cool and damp, but blissfully Collins-free. Darcy pulled the pelisse tighter around him and again marveled that women were supposed to keep warm in such light layers. Thankfully, skirts and petticoats were heavy enough.

Darcy walked along the field toward imposing Rosings, enjoying the sights of birds twittering in trees and the fresh cool air. He had to admit, Miss Bennet was onto something with walking. Outdoors was a tonic after being cooped up in a house for hours. He would remember to tell her the next time he saw her. Then he nearly tripped and realized the whiskey affected him more than he had thought. But it was a pleasant warming buzz that left him feeling tickled. Hold yourself together, man. Would not at all do for Miss Bennet to seem inebriated on a Sunday afternoon. He suppressed a giddy smile at the idea of her intoxicated.

After another quarter hour, he had successfully visited the kitchen, delivered the note to the chef's assistant, and been rewarded with two warm scones straight from the oven. Instead of walking straight back to Collins' home, he took a long route through a field and woods past the big house.

Walking in thickly wooded land, Darcy heard the jingle of stirrups and bridle steel and knew he was not alone. He smelled the warmth of horse flesh. Was his cousin Richard riding nearby?

He glanced about as he came down a hill and saw his own former corporal body standing next to a saddled bay mare. His heart pulled at the sight of himself, tall and elegant in the heather. What in the heavens was Miss Bennet doing riding?

He approached her quickly.

"Miss Bennet, are you quite well? You out riding."

Elizabeth turned her head, she gave Darcy's rare smile far more often than he had. "I am not riding, Mr. Darcy. I am walking, but people are suspicious that you, I mean I– do not ride, so I found taking a saddled horse is easier. And this gentle mare is good company. When I am not on her back." Elizabeth patted the horse's side. "I am learning that horses can be excellent confidants. Isn't that right, girl?"

"Are you certain you can handle her?"

She smiled again. "She is very gentle. And horses are far easier to handle when you are nearly as tall as they and not dressed in corsets or skirts."

She need not remind him of that. He sighed. "Do have a care, Miss Bennet."

She petted the horse's soft nose and spoke as if she were addressing it. "I am not a headstrong hoyden, despite what your London acquaintances may think. Are you worried I may ruin one of your fine jackets?"

"No, more worried you may break my neck."

He studied her in his long-legged body. He missed his clothes. He missed his shiny boots. His tweedy jacket that smelled of tobacco and leather. He missed riding. He missed being himself.

"Yet I remain whole, Darcy."

She used only his last name to address him. It felt odd. The familiarity of it zinged through this stomach like lightning.

"Our spell was not successful," he said finally.

She nodded, swallowing, still stroking the horse. "Do you think we might be trapped like this forever?"

"I do not know. But I may have found a solution. Of sorts."

Elizabeth turned to gaze down at him expectantly. He swore he could begin to see her face through his own. The lashes seemed longer. The eyes were more almond-shaped. Or was he just imagining it?

He inhaled, and before he knew it, words rushed from him."In vain, I have struggled. It will not do." he stopped, catching himself before his thoughts became words. "I have turned myself inside out thinking for a solution, and all I can discern is that it is most advantageous if you and I are not separated. In life," he added. "There is one sure way to do that, Miss Bennet."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, starting to shake her head.

"I am aware many things act as an impediment against us coming together. Foremost, of course, is my family name and the difference in our statuses. Naysayers will say I am debasing myself and my family by tethering myself to you. The worst in society may call you a fortune hunter, but we both know that is the furthest thing from the truth, do we not, Miss Bennet? And gossip is the least of our concerns…"

Darcy, in his speech walked idly under a tall, old oak tree and leaned against it. Somewhere above, a bird twittered.

"Miss Bennet, I do admire you," Darcy said. "I realize this is not an ideal match. You may not be what one hoped for when, as a boy, I imagined a future wife, with my family's background. Your parents–your Mama in particular broaches the line of impropriety at times, as do your flighty younger sisters. I do not mean Jane, of course, she is above reproach. But you are a gentleman's daughter. You are sensible and kind. I believe we can make a credible case that we are a match. In this way we can be together and not raise suspicion. I implore you to end this suffering and relent to be my wife before something terrible happens to either of us."

To Be Continued...