Thank you to my wonderful beta, Catapapalilar, you've been quick and effective and I cannot thank you enough!

Chapter One

"Darcy, for the last time, Mortimer is quite capable of handling the situation himself. There is really no dire need for me to return to London so soon... I... I am eager to remain in Hertfordshire, for a little longer anyway." Mr. Bingley paced back and forth across from the desk, one hand gesturing at the empty space in front of him, the other behind his back.

Darcy sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back into the leather, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair as he squeezed his eyes shut. "Bingley, Mortimer is a good... enough... sort of man, but his... resources are limited." He raised his head and looked at his friend in earnest. "You cannot entrust him to handle all your business in your absence," he said with conviction.

Mr. Robert Mortimer was a business associate of Mr. Bingley's. He had inherited his share but did not generally hold great sway within the ventures. As Darcy said, he was a good enough sort of man but lacked certain traits required in the position Bingley held, intellect being one. Bingley had put him in charge of his more general and mundane tasks while he was away, jobs that no one, no matter how witless, could mess up. However, when something of greater and more serious magnitude came up, Bingley would be forced into London to see to it personally.

Bingley stopped, frowned, opened his mouth to speak then closed it, and resumed pacing. "I can... Send instructions." he said after completing a lap across the rug.

Darcy suppressed a roll of his eyes. "Charles, even if you were to actually seat yourself behind the escritoire and put ink to paper, which we both know to be a very rare occurrence indeed, it would not be enough. Instruction is of little use when one does not have the facts at hand." Darcy let out a sigh of exasperation. "As a businessman, I cannot allow you to do this. You must get back to London post haste."

Mr. Bingley had allowed a rather significant amount of business to accumulate during his time in Hertfordshire. He was not a neglectful businessman, but he had put off several scheduled trips to town since he had arrived. Or rather since he had met a certain angel by the name of Miss Jane Bennet. He had spent a whole night with her at the ball, a whole night on the verge of proposing, a whole night restraining his every instinct to take her in his arms and kiss her. He knew his attentions had not gone unnoticed by the rest of the attendance of the Netherfield ball, but what did he care? They would be engaged soon anyway... Wouldn't they? Would she accept him? Did she love him? Need more time? No. He had to do it, he simply had to. And soon. If he left now he would have to wait even longer to have his answer, and he could not bear the suspense.

Bingley turned to his friend sat in the chair behind the large desk. Darcy was studying him his eyes hard and dark, his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled with his long legs outstretched whilst his head inclined slightly toward the anxious Mr. Bingley.

"Ah, yes," thought Bingley. "There sits the Master of Pemberly, foreboding and commanding. Well, I will not be moved, not this time, old boy."

"Yes Darcy. You are correct, once again. I shall return to town... Tomorrow." He spoke aloud this time, looking to the other gentleman directly.

Darcy relaxed, a vaguely triumphant look playing across his serious and detached mien. "I'm glad you see the sense in it." He spoke whilst raising himself from the chair, and then made his way around the desk to his friend. "Although... there is no need to delay, Bingley. You can leave today, it is still early." He was now but a few feet from Bingley and looking almost smug.

But Mr. Bingley would not kowtow, not in this. "No Darcy, I think not." he stated with an edge of defiance Darcy had rarely heard from his friend of such amiable temperament. "I have a few matters to attend to before going and one in particular which will not wait. You know I am resolute in this." Bingley stared with a half stern, half questioning look to Mr. Darcy.

Darcy's expression hardened again but he did not speak, his mind busy calculating the best strategy. He was not a liar, deceit of any kind was abhorrent to him and he certainly would not mislead his closest friend. Still, he felt he must save him! As a matter of honour, he could not allow Bingley to be ensnared by a matchmaking mama the likes of a Mrs. Bennet. Good Lord, what ruin it would bring to tie oneself to such a family! No woman is worth that price. "Elizabeth is," whispered a voice at the back of his head. He dismissed the thought as fast as it had come, his eyes narrowing with determination.

Bingley could not bear Darcy's brooding silence. He began to panic, and his resolve to stare down the Master Of Pemberly broke. "Egad, man!" Bingley cried. Darcy started, broken from his reverie, and he eyed Bingley seriously. "I will not be dissuaded in this, Darcy. I will settle the carriage arrangements for the morning, have Wexley pack few things for the trip and I will leave for town tomorrow morning... Engaged to Miss Bennet."

Darcy threw his arms out in exasperation, turned away from Bingley and stalked toward the hearth. "Bingley, we have spoken of this," he said begrudgingly. "You will be the laughing stock of the ton."

"I care not two wits what the ton thinks. And you are wrong." Darcy flashed him a look of indignation at such an insult but Bingley would not be balked. "Come man, she is an absolute angel. They will fall at her feet!"

"Her affability is not in question here, Charles. It is her connections and fortune that I implore, neigh, insist you consider. Her uncles include an attorney and a tradesman, her mother doesn't have two wits to rub together and her younger sisters are just as bad, if not worse," he barked, turning his head to glare at his friend.

Bingley looked crestfallen for a moment but swiftly regained composure.

Darcy's face softened and he turned back to the face the fire. Leaning one arm across the mantle and resting a boot on the grate he spoke again. "I grant you the eldest two Miss Bennets are perfectly amiable, their manners are not lacking, and they are, both, every bit accomplished." he said, somewhat wistfully.

Bingley's face rose slightly at this, a look of hope crossing his eyes. But Darcy was not here to encourage. "But consider, Bingley, if not for your own sake, then for your sisters'. What would it cost them to go through with this?" he said seriously.

Charles hesitated for but a moment before proclaiming, "Darcy, Caroline's dowry is fortune enough to attract many a man above her station, and Louisa has Hurst's connections, and fortune for that matter. I cannot believe that my marrying Ja..." Bingley stumbled over the familiar name that he had no right to speak, at least not yet. "Miss Bennet," he amended grudgingly, "would do so much damage." He said the last with an air of finality, his hands clasped behind his back and a stern gaze directed at the other gentleman.

Darcy turned his most austere gaze on him. To any observer, astute or not, the display could have been said to be likened to a small, recalcitrant puppy and a wolf sizing each other up before an attack.

But Bingley would not be pulled in any further. He closed his eyes and dropped his hands to his side, his head falling as he shook it slightly. "I cannot say I do not wish to have your support, Darce, but I will go through with this, with or without your approval." Bingley then, with one glance at Mr. Darcy's unmoved expression, walked towards the door of the study.

Darcy had one last card to play. He had hoped he would not have to, as he could not bear to see his friend pained, but what else was there left? "Can you be sure, Bingley? Do you know if she feels the way you do? Wants to marry you? Loves you?" he said gravely as he stood stoic and still, staring at Bingley from across the room, his eyes a mixture of earnest sincerity and pity.

Bingley looked up to him, his hand tight around the doorknob. "That," he said sternly, "is what I intend to find out." He opened the door and left the study without a second glance back.

~oOo~

Longbourn was in uproar. From the farthest room upstairs to the kitchens below-stairs, there was not a single room where the shrill cries of Mrs. Bennet could not be heard. "You obstinate girl! Ungrateful child! How could you do this to Mr. Collins? To us! You would see us all turned out into the hedgerows!"

Elizabeth walked away from the parlour, where Lydia and Kitty barely fought to suppress their giggling. Mary was at the door with pale shock written across her face, Jane with concern and embarrassment on hers, and Mr. Collins with an unbelieving look of indignation clearly portrayed on his own rather crimson face.

She walked deliberately, with her arms folded defiantly as she made her way toward her father's study. Her mother followed close behind, red in the face and arms flailing, her indignation proving itself to be as visible as it was audible.

The door to the study opened and Mr. Bennet stood in the door frame, looking equal parts amused and displeased before schooling his features into a look of intrigue, as if he hadn't heard Mrs. Bennets effusions.

"What's all this?" Mr. Bennet asked, arching an eyebrow. "An assembly outside my study? And where, pray tell, is my invitation, dearest daughter?" he asked, turning to Lizzy.

"Oh! Mr. Bennet! How can you vex me so?" Mrs. Bennet wailed. "It is your 'dearest daughter' who causes all the fuss!" She said throwing Lizzy a scathing glare.

"Come, come my dear," said Mr. Bennet, examining his wife over his spectacles. "What exactly is this 'fuss' my Lizzy brings about?"

"YOUR Lizzy has doomed us all! She has, just this morning, destined us for the poorhouse! She would see us all destitute and ruined when you are gone!" she wailed.

"Papa, I cannot, I will not marry him." Elizabeth pleaded with her father. Her face was fixed in an expression of anger and determination, unflinching even with Mrs. Bennets piercing exclamations.

Mr. Bennet looked wearily at his favourite child; they both knew what it was to be the subject of Mrs. Bennet's anger, derision and, more prominently, her 'nerves'. He inhaled slowly as he thought to pity his dear Lizzy. But, upon turning his gaze to Mrs. Bennet, he recalled the fun he could derive from the situation and changed his mind. "Of what, my dear, do you speak? From whence did Elizabeth receive this power over your fortune and situation? For I could have sworn, only minutes ago, that I was the... 'Lucky' soul on whom that responsibility fell."

Mrs. Bennet rolled her eyes. "OH! Mr. Bennet, you would rile my nerves and anger my blood just for your own amusement! That is where this ungrateful Miss finds her impertinence!" she said, gesturing to Elizabeth. "Well I warned you Mr. Bennet, I warned you about filling her head with all that useless gibberish! Latin and mathematics! What would a respectable young lady want with Latin? What man will marry her now?" she said desperately.

"I believe you can think of one." said he with an air of mirth. Elizabeth did not laugh, but rather, looked at her father with the fiercest look she dared. His coaxing took affect swiftly.

Mrs. Bennet let out a cry and threw her head back. "OH! Mr. Bennet, you must make her marry Mr. Collins while he will still have her, though why he should ever have wanted her, I cannot fathom! Lizzy!" she screeched. "If you do not marry Mr. Collins, I will never see you again!" she said with absoluteness.

Mr. Bennet turned to his daughter with a light air and proclaimed, "Lizzy my dear, there is a desolate task before you. You must, I'm afraid, become a stranger to one of your parents from this day forth," he said laughingly. "Your mother will not see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins and I... Will never see you again if you do."

"Oh Mr. Bennet, how can you jest at such a time?" exclaimed Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth did not see the humour in it at all, her face hardened as Mrs. Bennet's calls became impossibly louder.

Mr. Bennet had had his fun, Elizabeth's glare wasn't lost on him and he decided the situation had lost its humour. He turned a stern look on his wife and said, "Mrs. Bennet, I would sooner see her betrothed to our scullery maid's brother. Even if she had accepted Mr. Collins, my permission would not have been granted." he said gravely. "Now," he continued, his look softening slightly but his voice remaining strong, "this subject is closed, it will not be broached again." He stepped backwards into the study as Mrs. Bennet's face fell and paled. Elizabeth leaned in, threw her arms about her father's neck, kissed his cheek and whispered, "Thank you Papa."

She brushed past a ghostly white Mrs. Bennet and, snatching up her shawl from the hall, made her way out the front door.

How long she walked she did not know. Her pace was fast and she didn't think about where her feet carried her, but she was sure that anywhere in England wasn't far enough.

She had arrived at Oakham mount and turned back again. Deciding it was still too soon to hope that Mrs. Bennet's effusions would be quelled in the slightest, she continued past the road to Longbourn. It wasn't until she reached the boundary of Netherfield Park that she realised just how far she'd gone. She stopped and, staring out across the expanse of a field she gave into exhaustion. She turned and leaned back against the fence, breathing heavily as she brought one hand to her forehead, supporting her weight against the fence with the other.