Mr. Darcy sighed and tried to refocus on his meditation. The moonlit garden around him was silent and still except for a light breeze that shifted his loose white linen shirt across his shoulders every so often. He tried to clear his mind and focus on his mantra, but kept returning to the scene from tea earlier that day; Elizabeth's hurt face as he put her in her place in front of his Aunt and Mr. Collins.

Darcy's stomach rolled with guilt. He'd tried to approach Elizabeth before dinner to offer his apology, but she'd coolly shut him off and retreated into her room, pleading illness in order to miss dinner. He'd thought about going to her room after dinner to see how her health fared, but decided against it in the end. He'd ended up so worked up over the issue that his usual workout had done nothing to calm him - hence the need for meditation and focus.

Darcy took a deep breath, trying to push Elizabeth Bennett out of his mind. He didn't care, damn it.

Yes he did. There was no lying to himself anymore. Now that he'd admitted his feelings to her he could damn well speak the truth to himself. He was infatuated, and he cared deeply for Miss Bennett. The thought of harm coming to her was almost unbearable for him.

A twig snapped somewhere in the garden. Darcy's eyes flew open and searched his surroundings, all senses on alert. Softly as a breeze his hand went to the katana set next to him on the blanket he was using as a meditation mat.

Directly to his left, a figure dressed in white ghosted through the garden. Darcy rolled off the blanket to hide alongside a hedge that would bring him on a collision course with the intruder.

It was unthinkable, an unmentionable breaching the gates of Rosings park. His Aunt's estate was better guarded than the royal palace. But if one had gotten in, more would be on the way. He would dispatch this one and then raise the alarm.

Running closely along the hedge parallel to the walker, Darcy could hear slow footsteps and shallow breathing, as well as an odd sniffling sound. The walker was freshly dead. The end of the hedge line approached, and Darcy shouldered his katana, stepping out and swinging it at the dreadful's head.

A sharp gasp greeted him, and he stayed his hand just in time.

Elizabeth Bennett stood across from him, dressed in practically nothing, tear-tracks evident on her cheeks.

"M-miss Bennett. Elizabeth. Do forgive me." He removed his blade from her neck and sheathed it, noticing with a grimace that the expertly sharpened steel had left a small cut at the base of her throat.

"Do forgive me." He repeated awkwardly. He fished his handkerchief out of a pocket of his breeches and moved to address the cut on her neck, but Elizabeth flinched away from him. He held out the kerchief awkwardly, unsure of what else he could do. He blinked hard, trying not to let his eyes rove over the almost see-through nightgown.

Elizabeth accepted the handkerchief and wiped her eyes with it before pressing it to her neck. Darcy noticed another tear track its way down her cheeks, and a flame of anger kindled in his stomach. Anything, anyone that would make this proud creature cry would be dust by the time he attended to them.

Elizabeth offered the handkerchief back to him, her hand trembling.

"Elizabeth?" Darcy questioned gently. "Are you quite all right?" He took the kerchief back from her and she snatched her hand away like she'd been burned.

"Quite." She clipped in reply, turning on her heel and striking off across the garden. Darcy cursed his eyes for drifting downwards as she walked away from him, then ran to catch up.

"Elizabeth. Miss Bennett - Please stop!" She stopped suddenly and he almost bumped into her.

"Please, Miss Bennett. You are a cause for worry. Do tell me what is ailing you, I will keep it in the strictest of confidences." This time when he reached a hand to her bare arm, she didn't shy away.

"Let me get you a blanket, you'll catch your death." Darcy said gently, pleased that his soothing seemed to be working.

"I assure you, Mr. Darcy. I'm not c-c-cold." Elizabeth couldn't hide the shivers beginning on her small frame. Darcy jogged back to his blanket, returning to place it around Elizabeth's shoulders. She stopped shivering almost immediately. A couple more unwanted tears escaped down her cheeks and she swatted at them almost angrily.

"Miss Bennett, I will gladly pulverize any person or thing that has caused you injury." Darcy offered, reaching for her arm again and receiving no protest.

"I-it's not that. It's that I- well, I- It's silly really." Elizabeth replied.

"If it distresses you, of all people, then I think it is hardly trivial." Darcy countered. Elizabeth shifted from foot to foot, drawing his attention. "Dear Lord, Elizabeth. Your feet must be freezing." Indeed, she was not wearing any footwear to speak of - not even her house slippers. He steered her over towards a nearby bench and sat her down.

"It's- it's the dreadfuls" Elizabeth hiccuped, her flush visible even in the pale moonlight.

"The dreadfuls? Miss Bennett, I assure you-"

"-Rosings park is the safest place in England. Yes, I know. It's not that at all." Darcy paused in the action of wrapping her feet in the blanket, realizing exactly what he was doing.

"Er- what is it then?" He finished tucking her feet in and took a modest step back.

"I do not fear death for myself, it's that I fear the horrific and untimely death of my loved ones. The notion that at any point it could be Jane or Kitty or Father lying there in the road - it's, it's unbearable!" Elizabeth began to sob anew. "It haunts my nights endlessly."

"Night terrors." Darcy said softly, coming to sit next to her on the bench. "Dear Elizabeth."

"You must think I'm terribly silly." Elizabeth sniffed.

"Of course not. Every warrior has a weakness." Darcy said. He was heartily resisting the urge to pull the young woman into his arms.

"It only began after... well, after my encounter with Mrs. Featherstone. And... you." Elizabeth admitted.

"I hope that your imaginings of my disembowelment do my likeness justice. I'm sure that you have imagined them enough." Darcy tried to joke, but his words sobered Elizabeth up almost immediately.

"Mr. Darcy, I would not wish a fate such as that on anyone; not even my worst enemy. It is my hope you die in glorious battle, or quietly in your sleep at the age of five and ninety." Elizabeth said, getting up and beginning to walk away again. Darcy was dumbfounded.

"Miss Bennett, wait. Allow me to-"

"I shall remain out of doors for the rest of the night, Mr. Darcy. Alone. Goodnight." Elizabeth said over her shoulder, disappearing around another hedge. Darcy stopped, at a loss for words.

After some time spent debating the situation, Mr. Darcy decided to return to his room, using the garden view to watch Elizabeth and ensure her safety.

She paced around the garden for upwards of an hour, then she returned to the bench they'd been occupying, sitting on the ground and leaning her head back against it.

The panes of glass grew chillier under his fingers. Elizabeth would be freezing, even in her blanket. Damn her pride. He would have to go fetch her and return her to her quarters. Grabbing his robe, Darcy began the trip back down the stairs.

The outside air hit him like a wall. The wind had picked up and thunder was rumbling in the distance. Elizabeth would be chilled through. He picked up his pace.

Darcy rounded the hedge where he'd left Elizabeth and stopped in his tracks. The bench at the end of the row was completely empty. He looked up at Rosings and realized that his trajectory was off; he'd made a wrong turn at the last statue. Mr. Darcy backtracked and set himself on the right path.

This time when he rounded the corner, his heart settled seeing Elizabeth lying on the bench, face pressed into the blanket. She was asleep.

Darcy approached quietly, not wanting her to awaken. He could see clearly the dark bruises underneath her eyes even in the moonlight, the result of many sleepless nights.

Elizabeth looked so vulnerable while asleep; none of the pride and confidence that usually graced her features were there, leaving in their wake only beauty and youth. She looked many summers younger than her four and twenty years.

Elizabeth shifted on the bench, shivering a little as a gust of wind blew over them. Without hesitation, Mr. Darcy disrobed himself and laid the heavy cloth over her small frame before picking her up, blankets and all, cradling her like she were the crown jewels herself, and beginning the slow walk back inside.

Once in the grand foyer, Darcy realized his dilemma. He could hardly enter Elizabeth and Charlotte's room in the various states of undress both him and his charge were in. And he could hardly be seen bringing her to his chambers, his Aunt would surely suspect something.

Elizabeth stirred in his arms, moaning in obvious pain.

"N-no. Stop." She whispered. Darcy made a split-second decision and began towards his quarters. All the while, Elizabeth grew more and more distressed in his arms.

"Please!" She cried out, still asleep. Darcy stopped and bent down, bracing Elizabeth against his knee so he could smooth her hair with his other hand.

"Elizabeth, picture something lovely. The sky, the trees. Don't think about what's on the ground." He whispered. Elizabeth shifted once more and moaned, then lay still, her breathing returning to normal.

"That's it. Breathe and think of the clouds." Darcy swooped her back into his arms and jogged the rest of the way to his quarters.

Once safely in his room, Mr. Darcy gently put Elizabeth on his bed before going to stoke the fire. As the room warmed, Elizabeth's color began to return. He unwrapped the robe and blanket from her still form and folded them neatly on the side table. Mr. Darcy took his seat at the window again, trying to look out at the grounds without distraction, but found himself turning to watch Elizabeth instead.

Finally giving in to his baser urges, he let his eyes roam over her body, barely covered by the thin fabric of her nightgown. She sighed and rolled towards him, burying her face in his pillow, and Darcy could see all of her more English features clearly. He gulped, trying to control his arousal. He was a colonel, and a proper Englishman for heaven's sake!

But still, he couldn't tear his eyes away. Elizabeth was made up completely of curves; from the sculpted muscle of her bare shoulders to the bow of her side, to the hollow at her throat, to the- Darcy gulped - Peaks of well formed breasts at the edge of the cotton, to the darker nipples underneath, to the- dear god. He had to stop, or he would lose all self-control.

"Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth sighed. Darcy started and thought for a moment that she'd awoken, but she sighed again and shifted ever so slightly. He was fascinated. What could she be dreaming about now? A small smile graced Elizabeth's face and she mumbled something unintelligible.

But as Darcy watched, the dream grew sour. Elizabeth began to move more, clawing at something that wasn't there.

"Elizabeth." Darcy called. He had to wake her-

"No! Don't take him. Please, not him. I love-"

Darcy flew out of his chair and took her shoulders, shaking her hard. Elizabeth's eyes snapped open.

"Mr. - What?" She asked, dazed.

"I am safe and well. Sleep, and dream of better things." Darcy found himself saying, captivated by her brown eyes. Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, then her eyelids fluttered shut.

"Stay with me." She breathed. Darcy nearly aspirated his own saliva. Had she really spoken those words?

"Please." She said before falling back into deep sleep.

Darcy wasn't sure what he should do. Slowly, so as not to wake his charge, he pulled the comforter over Elizabeth, tucking it gently around her. Then he moved around the bed and delicately laid down top of the blankets, coming as close to her as he dared. He waited a moment, and once he was sure she was asleep, he gently reached out to lay and hand on her bare shoulder, letting the rough pad of his thumb rub a small circle there.

Before he knew it, Mr. Darcy was asleep.