A/N - This is my first attempt at publishing anything! I appreciate all helpful notes along the way. I love P&P and thought to turn all of my little scribblings into a story. I already have the plot outlined. Yay! For better or worse, I promise to finish! Thank you for reading.

Update 10/3/2016: I am now adding the prologue

Prologue:

Darcy was still in his night shirt as he sat in the plush chair staring out over the hills of Matlock watching his carriage pull up the dust into the air as his wife continued into the distance. There was an aching within his heart, even more than the one which usually rested there, and it grew with every moment she and the carriage drew further out of sight.

It is what she wants. I will get through this for her sake.

He could not stand to watch the small dot of his coach fade to nothing over the rolling sun-kissed wheat, so he turned away from the window and went to find his riding attire. He needed to get out of this house. He needed to be away from everyone and everything so he could process what his life had become.

He managed his boots himself. He did not want to see Johnson. That man practically loved Elizabeth as much as he did, albeit in a much different way. He was not going to bear the accountability of the man, not this morning, and not after last night.

Why was it that every time they seemed close to finding happiness it slipped from their grasp? Maybe he was delusional. Maybe he just thought happiness was just one kiss or pleasant smile away when in truth he never had a chance.

He went to his small writing desk and retrieved the betrothal ring. He was going to ride to the closest peak and fling it as far as he could and perhaps fling his heart with it. He was a Darcy, and he had great responsibility. He wife obviously did not care that he had a responsibility to her above all else. She did not see his care, respect, or even his love. She did not want to any of it. She said so last night. It was time to call the sham of a marriage what it was. She could establish her life as she saw fit. It was time to move on with his.

He turned the small silver band in his hand and studied the inscription. All I refuse and thee I chuse. What a foolish thought. He wished more than ever to go back to the night in Hertfordshire when he saw her by the light of a fire and chose to walk away. He did not even love her then. That is not true. He may not have recognized it, but he had loved her before that. He could not account for it, but he knew it to be true. Why could he not tell her the truth?

He truly wished he could go back to the day in her father's field, lay bare his soul, and tell her she had a choice. He knew it would not have been him, but the rejection surely would not be this terrible after now seeing small hints of what life could be behind the heavy curtain of what was truly reality. Perhaps if had not the chance to sink this far into the despair of loving her, he could have pulled himself to safety before it was too late. For now, he was a drowned man.

He would always love her. There could never be another. However, they had to find some way to move forward. Apart. Perhaps he would go to Skye and live out his days there. That was a place of recent happy memories. He had no wish to see Pemberley. He promised himself not to take her home, to his home, their home, until he won her heart. That was an impossibility. She could go there to live on her own with Georgie. Georgie's children would have to inherit. There was no future for his own despite the demand he put on Elizabeth the day after their wedding. He could not ask it of her. He loved her too much. And, it would break him see her with his children but no love in her eyes for him.

He must think. If only an annulment was possible, but he knew there was no just reason in the eyes of any law. Their marriage did not fit any of the criteria. Perhaps it was time to seek the counsel of his uncle. Later.

For now, Darcy gathered what he could of any proof of his love for her. He packed the letters - all the letters, the pressed flowers, her ribbon with her scent, the piece of her tattered petticoat, her glove from the night of the masque, and the ring she flung in her room the night of their wedding. He put it all in his satchel with a bottle of whiskey and escaped down the servant's staircase.

He rode his horse with a fury even he had not known before. There were not shouts of excitement spurring on his mount as the wind hit his face. He just wanted to be far away from the torment that was the last shred of hope fading from his marriage.

Chapter 1

Elizabeth passed the last several hours in a Netherfield bedroom alternately praying for her dear sister's health and whispering to a sleeping, feverish Jane all that had transpired in dining parlour and subsequently, the drawing room.

Earlier in the morning she had received a letter from Jane who had fallen ill at Netherfield and hastened through the mud and the muck to her sister's side that she might aide her recovery and offer support.

Thankfully, for whatever reason, Caroline's abilities as hostess shone through her haughty manner, and under cover of politeness, Elizabeth was asked to stay in the grand home for the duration of Jane's recovery.

"Oh sweet, Jane. It was bordering somewhere on hilarity and mortification listening to Caroline and Mr. Darcy speak of the ideals on an accomplished woman. I have to say that our new friends have quite lofty ideals of the matter, and I am convinced they think me quite the opposite."

Elizabeth laughed softly to herself and at herself as she continued wiping a sleeping Jane's perspiring brow. Although Jane was sleeping, Elizabeth though her soft tones to her sister provided calm.

"One thing is for certain however, Mr. Bingley must think of you as his ideal. I so pray you are better on the morrow and can witness his adoration for yourself. His concern for you was evident all evening, and sweetling, I assure you, it is not only because you are a guest in his care."

Elizabeth smiled at Jane's potential for contentment in a suitor. For Jane's happiness was Elizabeth's happiness. They were more than sisters but the truest friends, and both equally exalted the other above themselves.

The other reason for smiling is that in the past couple of hours under her sister's care and comfort, Jane's fever was finally showing signs of not quite abating, but at least reaching its peak. She could sense Jane take a turn into a more restful slumber.

A knock at the door sounded that made Elizabeth look up from her sister's countenance. What time was it even?

"Enter."

A young maid entered that Elizabeth knew quite well as the young daughter of a Longbourn tenant. "Rebecca, it is just after midnight. What are you still doing about? We are quite well here; I think Jane is turning a corner," Elizabeth whispered to the girl she remembered stitching dresses for several years ago.

Mrs. Bennet, though atrocious in manner much of the time, never neglected the needs of the estate's tenants and saw that her daughters followed her example by making and mending clothing for the children, distilling herbs for medicinals, or making up baskets with bread, dried meats, and sundries when a family on their land was suffering in some way.

"Miss Elizabeth, several of us have been anxious of Miss Jane and wanted to provide assistance. It is quite late, and I am able to take your place if you would like to get some rest for a while."

While some may see the maid as impertinent for showing herself to a guest without a direct summons or order, Elizabeth knew Rebecca and many other of the servants in the house truly cared for Jane. And, while she hated to leave her sister for even a moment, she thought the best way to show her appreciation was to let Rebecca stay and take her place for a short while.

Many of the servants were from the local area and known directly to the Bennet family. There was a strong tie among most that resided in this nook of Hertfordshire, and they, in most ways, took care of each other when illness or calamity arose.

"Rebecca, I must thank you and all the others for the kind thoughts, words and service. I'd be happy to let you take my place for a couple of hours while I rest. I shan't be more than two hours, and then I'll resume duties for the rest of the evening. Jane is finally comfortably resting, so the most you need to do is reassure her quietly if she becomes restless and keep her skin cool with the basin of water and rag next to the bed."

"Of course, ma'am. I shall ring for Betsy and send for you if anything becomes alarming."

Rebecca lifted the back of her hand to Jane's forehead, gave her sleeping form a critical eye, and then smiled. "But, you are correct, she looks much better than just earlier this evening. Thank you for letting me help."

"Rebecca, it is you who deserves my thanks," Elizabeth said as she clasped the maid's hands.

She then turned to Jane, bent down to kiss her cheek, and whispered, "Oh dear, sweet sister, rest love. I'll return soon."

Elizabeth went to her room down the guest hall. There was no way she would be able to fall asleep despite the lateness of evening if she wanted to make it back to Jane's room to relieve Rebecca in a couple of short hours. She laid upon her bed and went over the evening and all that transpired.

She laughed aloud at the ridiculousness of her hostess and sister. Even Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley provided inspiration for some mirth. Although, she couldn't quite find herself laughing at Mr. Darcy with all of his austerity of manner.

The whole of the conversation was outlandish with Miss Bingley fanning on about Miss Darcy and her list of what every accomplished woman should claim to deserve the word.

I wonder if they teach 'a certain something in air and manner of walking' at all prestigious finishing schools for young ladies… oh, how has my education been amiss?!

Elizabeth could entirely imagine a whole month of lessons to a bunch of tittering girls, resembling Kitty and Lydia no less, on how to possess a 'certain' manner of walking. Elizabeth was just thankful her own manner of walking was learned while running through fields of wildflower and jumping over rock bridges she made to cross the many brooks running over their lands.

She thought on Miss Bingley's contemptuous looks over the dinner table and colored slightly while letting her giggles wane. She was certain the group of them discussed what a hoyden she was walking all the way to Netherfield on her sister's behalf, Mr. Bingley of course excluded. Her manner of entrance most certainly did not measure up to the standards of the ladies of the house.

She was not sure she should feel guilty over a lack of embarrassment. She would walk so much longer and through so much more unpleasantness to reach an ailing sister. And, that was nothing for which to feel ashamed.

She thought of Mr. Darcy. He was so, so… well she wasn't sure what she thought of the gentlemen. She was quite aware of their mutual dislike, but she couldn't quite laugh at him as she had the rest of the party.

He of course gave her disapproving glares and was incongruent with many of her own opinions. He was also sharp, and if she had to admit, he was handsome. She of course still felt wounded over his remarks from the assembly several weeks ago. Although this was a private thought not even shared with Jane.

She started to feel indignant again at the thought and didn't want to admit even to herself that some handsome and, as it turned out, intelligent man had so deeply wounded her vanity. So, she took her thought back and decided it would do no good for herself to give over and admit his looks were in any way attractive. She would focus on something else entirely.

What was it that Mr. Darcy said earlier about accomplished women? Oh yes, an accomplished woman must add something more by improving her mind through extensive reading.

Elizabeth blushed, and again the indignant felling flared in her chest. She had been reading prior to his comment. But, surely, that was not meant for her. Her stomach gave a slight drop at the thought. Oh, what a vexing man indeed. Why use her actions that evening to parry Miss Bingley's ridiculous notions! She was all but certain that Miss Bingley, and probably herself, grated his nerves and was subtly contrary because he just could not help himself.

Infuriating man!

She did have a pure enjoyment of the written word and him announcing 'extensive reading' as an accomplishment had nothing to do with her enjoyment. She very much disliked the idea of tying one of her favorite activities to the absurd discussion earlier in the drawing room.

As the clock chimed a half into the midnight hour, Elizabeth thought of no better way to keep herself awake than with a good book. She put her feet into her slippers, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders, and headed to the library to pick from Mr. Bingley's moderate selections.