A/N: This story has been complete for some time, and it is the craziest of my stories. I am going through correcting spelling and wording before publication. I will not be making substantial changes.

"In spite of her deeply-rooted dislike, she could not be insensible to the compliment of such a man's affection, and though her intentions did not vary for an instant, she was at first sorry for the pain he was to receive; … As he said this, she could easily see that he had no doubt of a favourable answer. He spoke of apprehension and anxiety, but his countenance expressed real security. … P&P Chapter 34

When he had done, Elizabeth raised her fists in the air, and yelled "Why?, Why?, Why?, Why?, Why me? What have I done? Why do I deserve this? Why are you punishing me?"

The last was said with a shout loud enough to shake the roofs of the parsonage.

Darcy gasped in stunned disbelief, colored, stared and started fidgeting.

Elizabeth was staring at the ceiling, shaking her fists at the very heavens, clearly agitated.

Fitzwilliam Darcy had never had the slightest doubt about the acceptance of his offer. In his view of the world, the offer was his to make, and the only doubt to be resolved was whether he was willing to condescend to bring her to his level of society. Once he had made his decision, her acceptance was to be automatic, and even expected, was it not. It never occurred to him that she could decline politely, or decline at all.

Elizabeth was clearly very agitated. He thought about leaving, but that did not seem the gentlemanlike thing to do. Of course, with a reaction like that, maybe getting out of her sight would be the most gentlemanlike thing to do, but he could not be certain. It definitely went against the grain to leave a woman in distress; so he thought perhaps he should reach out to her.

"Miss Bennet, that reaction was … unexpected. Truly, you seem to be in some distress. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You seem very ill."

Elizabeth laughed, nearly uncontrollably, and said, "Wine Mr. Darcy? Wine? Wine?" She paused for a moment in thought, then said, "Now that you mention it Mr. Darcy, you have the right idea but, but you are too timid by half. If you would be so kind, go to my cousin's study and bring brandy."

Darcy wondered if she had actually gone barking mad, but was so happy to have her talking as a rational human being, that he jumped up to do her bidding. As he approached the door, Elizabeth added, "Bring the bottle Mr. Darcy."

Well, that sounded more ominous but the directions seemed clear enough, and he was just happy to have something simple to do. As he crossed the threshold of the door, he heard one more thing, "and two glasses."

Darcy returned a few moments later with a decanter full of brandy and the required two glasses. He sat down in the chair across from her with a table between them, and poured out two tumblers of brandy.

Elizabeth picked up her brandy, and said, "Your health, sir?" Then she immediately tossed the entire tumbler back. She sputtered, snorted, turned red and coughed a couple of times but then seem to recover. She looked across at him, and raised an eyebrow in mock challenge. Not one to be intimidated by such a little slip of a girl, he tossed his back as well.

Elizabeth smacked her glass down onto the table, and said, "Again."

Darcy poured again, and the ritual was repeated. Elizabeth said, "Mr. Darcy, sir. I believe you outweigh me by several stone, and have probably had much more extensive instruction in the consumption of brandy, so I believe you should really have one more."

After his third brandy in as many minutes, Darcy was starting to feel fuzzy, and perhaps more talkative than usual. There was still the issue of her earlier appeal to the gods of Valhalla, or whatever it was, and he timidly asked, "Miss Bennet, might you explain your earlier reaction, or do we need more brandy?"

Elizabeth chuckled, although more sadly than anything else. She simply said, "Seven."

Hmm … Maybe the problem was too much brandy rather than not enough, but that was water under the bridge.

"Seven, Miss Bennet?"

"Seven, Mr. Darcy. I have had seven proposals of marriage. I was simply asking Providence why I was being so singled out for punishment."

Darcy was stunned, and blurted out, "Seven proposals of marriage!"

"Yes sir, seven."

"And I presume you have declined all of them?"

Elizabeth, starting to feel the effects of the brandy, smirked and said, "Well sir, actually, I have only declined six so far."

Darcy poured another Brandy for each, and with a shared gesture, they picked up the tumblers, clinked glasses, and tossed back another one.

He was afraid of the answer, but asked anyway, "And do you plan to make a clean sweep of it?"

Elizabeth sighed resignedly, and said, "Yes sir, I imagine I probably will."

Darcy screwed up his courage, and before he could stop himself, asked, "Before you do, might I ask how my proposal ranked among the seven?"

Immediately he wanted to bite his tongue, and looked at the brandy as if it were entirely at fault.

The brandy was definitely having some effect on Elizabeth is well. To buy a little time, she poured another tumbler for both, but they both took to sipping rather than gulping. Darcy could not help muttering, "This may be the worst Brandy I have ever tasted."

Elizabeth descended deep into thought but suddenly snapped out of it to remember that he had asked a question.

"Sir, a proper relative ranking would require some criteria for evaluation. Do you wish a ranking based on presentation, sentiment, worthiness, level of insult or perhaps some type of overall ranking?"

Darcy scratched his face in confusion, frowned and asked, "Level of insult? Do you believe that should be a criteria?"

Elizabeth said, "Ideally not, but yes, I imagine that should be ranked since insults seem to be a common element. I am wondering sir; do they teach you at school that it's proper to insult your intended during a proposal? I only ask because it seems to be the fashion these days, but I am not sure where the practice began, or who has been convinced of its efficacy. Are such things usually fruitful?"

Darcy, thinking this just keeps getting worse and worse, asked, "Do you think my proposal could be scored on that scale?"

"In that metric sir, you are around the middle of the pack. You performed somewhat better than both Lord Melbourne and my cousin Mr. Collins, and just a bit worse than Mr. Golding."

Darcy sputtered, "Mr. Collins. Mr. Collins? Mr. Collins? He had the temerity to propose to you?"

"Yes sir, he proposed the day after the Netherfield ball. His proposal outdoes yours in level of insult, mostly because his insults were aimed at my personal characteristics, while yours were mostly aimed at my situation and my family. You edged him out in that respect. In fact, he even said outright that with my very small portion, 'I might never receive another offer of marriage'.

Apparently, he was wrong… again.

"So you found my proposal insulting?"

"Yes sir, you really should have stopped after the first sentence, and vis-à-vis proposals, I think you may want to consider removing the word reprehensible from your vocabulary entirely."

Darcy looking pensive said, "Would you have accepted that? Had I, with greater policy, concealed my struggles, and flattered you into the belief of my being impelled by unqualified, unalloyed inclination; by reason, by reflection, by everything, would I have prevailed?"

"No sir, but my rejection would have been kinder."

To Darcy, this was both surprising and distressing. To gain a moment to think, he poured some more brandy for both.

"Miss Bennet, upon review of my words, I can see that you are correct and they were most poorly chosen. Oddly enough, in my ignorance, I thought I was helping my suit by being honest about my struggles and trying to give you an idea of the difficulties you might face as my wife."

"Well sir, perhaps you will do better next time. I am certain you will have many opportunities to propose to someone more worthy."

Seeking to distract himself from that line of reasoning, Darcy took another few sips of brandy, and struggling for something to say, he blurted out the first thing that his addled brain spit out, "I suppose you should lump presentation and level of insult together, since they are just two sides of the same coin. May I ask who gave you the best presentation?"

He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but apparently, the brandy was more loquacious than he was.

"I would have to say it was Mr. Wickham."

"Mr. Wickham! Please tell me you did not seriously consider him."

This reaction surprised Elizabeth. Not only was Mr. Darcy shouting, something unheard of, but also he had turned white as a sheet, and seemed ready to run, or start pacing again. This was the most unexpected reaction. Guilt perhaps?

Yes sir, his proposal had everything a proposal should have… except for sincerity and a measurable income of course."

"Thank God. He is the worst sort of scoundrel and rake, and he would have made you miserable. You are correct in assuming that his proposal as well practiced, he has practiced it many times in the past. In fact, the evening we met at the Meryton assembly, I was thoroughly unfit for company. A few weeks prior, he convinced my 15-year-old sister to elope and very nearly succeeded. I was in the blackest of all possible moods."

Elizabeth was startled by this revelation, and asked, "Why would he do that?"

"For her dowry of 30,000 pounds. My father paid for Wickham's education and promised him a living if he took orders. He requested and received 3,000 pounds in lieu of the living, supposedly to study the law. He wasted it all in less than three years. He was after Georgianna purely for mercenary reasons, but also he has an unnatural hatred of me and had he ruined her life, his revenge would have been complete."

Elizabeth took another sip of brandy, before replying, "Mr. Darcy, I hope that your sister is recovering. It must be such an awful experience for her. I am both saddened by her experience, but also quite upset that you were sanguine about leaving my sisters and me to his mercy when you knew his nature. I am only happy he proposed to me instead of Lydia, because she would have accepted it without a second thought. In fact, I would not be overly surprised to find her stalking him as we speak."

Darcy hung his head in shame, but before he could answer Elizabeth took another small sip of brandy, and added quietly, "I am afraid, sir I must also correct the record. We did not meet at the Meryton assembly. You publicly insulted me by saying I was not handsome enough to tempt you at the Meryton assembly, but I hardly consider that a proper introduction. We never spoke until the gathering at Lucas Lodge, when I took you to task for eavesdropping. I am not entirely certain that strictly within the normal rules of propriety we have ever been properly introduced."

Darcy was mortified, and set about to immediately apologize, but Elizabeth would have none of it. "Do not trouble yourself, sir. My vanity has recovered quite some time ago. I am not handsome enough to tempt you, but apparently handsome enough to tempt six other more or less worthy gentlemen, so I have decided to disregard the opinions of you and my mother, which are surprisingly similar. I shall take my opinion about my appearance from Jane and Charlotte."

"Nevertheless, you are correct in every particular. I did not behave as a gentleman should, and I offer you my sincere apologies. You should also know that you are absolutely and uniquely handsome enough to tempt me. In fact, you are the handsomest woman of my acquaintance. I can also see that I have failed in my duty as a leader of men. I should have dealt with Wickham long ago, and it is much to my shame that I abandoned your family to him. I can only hope I might have time to deal with him once and for all. I can promise you Miss Elizabeth, that you have taken me to task appropriately, and I will not let you down."

Trying to leave the issue of Wickham behind, he said, "May I asked Miss Elizabeth, you said your cousin indication that your portion was quite small?"

Elizabeth, looking embarrassed, or perhaps shamed, replied, "Yes sir. My father's estate is entailed away from the female line, and he has five daughters. Mr. Collins is to inherit. My mother is not suited for economy or savings. Upon my father's death, we will have practically nothing. That is the main reason my mother is so obscenely mercenary, she is just frightened. She tried her best to force me to accept Mr. Collins, but my father took my side. My mother's mercenary tendencies are not cruel, she's just afraid. I know that is not much help to those of you who are her chosen prey, but she is my mother."

Darcy took another drink, and asked gently, "What happens when your father dies?"

At this point, Elizabeth was very close to weeping. She said, "Unless at least one of the sisters marries well, very well, Jane and I will have to enter employment, and probably Mary as well. We all had great hopes for Mr. Bingley, but you know precisely how that turned out, do you not? My other sisters will squeeze in with my aunt and uncles. We will survive, but not well… And it will be my fault."

"How could that possibly be your fault?"

"Think about it Mr. Darcy. One of us must marry well, and I have declined six offers so far. Mr. Wickham and two of the other men were obviously unable to materially assist my family, but three of them, including you, could easily give us security for life. However, no matter how important it is for my sisters, and me, I just cannot marry without admiration, respect and deep love. It is simply not in my nature. Jane and I made a pact long ago that we would not marry except for the deepest love, and we fully intend to keep it."

Feeling the weight of his words, Darcy asked quietly, "And was your sister in love with Mr. Bingley?"

"Yes. She still is. However, my family is still as you described. She will recover, and perhaps she will find a more worthy suitor than Mr. Bingley, and she can be our salvation after all."

Darcy poured the last of the brandy into the two tumblers, and raising his glass he said, "He still is as well. This is my fault."

Elizabeth sighed and said, "I know."

Darcy thought a moment, and said, "If I apologize to both Miss Bennet and Bingley, and put them back together, will she accept him back?"

"I do not know, but at least we would be treating them like adults rather than children. It is time to let Mr. Bingley off is leading strings, Mr. Darcy. Much like another man I know, my sister's feelings are not obvious to the casual observer, but I assure you they are there."

"Then, that is what I will do."

Elizabeth's head was spinning in circles now, and all she could manage to say was, "Thank you. I would not have believed you capable of admitting error, but I do thank you on behalf of my sister."

They both finished the last of the brandy and were quite at a loss as what to say next.

Finally, Elizabeth let out a deep breath and said, "Well Mr. Darcy, it is getting very late so I believe it is time for me to answer your question."

Darcy's reaction was instant or as instant as possible for a man who drank Seven Brandies in less than an hour. He jumped across the intervening space, crashed into the side of her chair, knocked over a table, broke a vase, tripped on his own feet, fell flat on his back, then jumped back up and placed his two fingers across her lips, saying, 'Shhhh…. Shhhh…"

Elizabeth, in no fine fettle herself, was stunned. This hated man was much too close; much too big; much too improper; much too aggressive; much too mean; much too handsome; much too intimate.

"Miss Bennet. Would you do me the honor of refusing to answer my previous question for one month?"

"Why?"

"Because in one month, I hope you will give me a different answer. Please Elizabeth; give me a chance to earn your regard."

Elizabeth gave a shy little smile and said, "You do realize, at my current rate I will probably have two more proposals in that time?"

"I would ask that you not answer them either, unless of course to decline them."

Perhaps it was the brandy, perhaps it was the stress, perhaps the man had sufficiently explained himself, perhaps the feelings his fingers on her lips produced was too enticing, perhaps she just thought it was time to take a leap of faith; or more likely she was just completely foxed, but no matter. Elizabeth took a deep breath, and said "No Mr. Darcy, I am afraid I must decline to delay my answer. I have had quite enough proposals for one lifetime. My answer is "Yes" so now it is too late for you to retract the offer. Now you are stuck with me."

Charlotte Collins, on her return to the parsonage, was quite surprised to hear the sound of snoring coming from her parlor. Had one of the servants fallen asleep? If so, it would not be the first or the last time, and Charlotte was not overly concerned, but she thought she should just check anyway.

Looking in the parlor, she was shocked to smell the entire room reeked of brandy. Her husband would not be happy with that development. She looked around the room for the culprit and was stunned to see lying on his back on her couch, not other than Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley himself, in the flesh. That alone, was quite shocking. However, that did not in any way compare to the absolute surprise that her best friend, Elizabeth Bennet was lying beside him, snuggled into the crook of his arm as if the world had been created with her in that position.

Charlotte smiled, placed a blanket over the happy or at least inebriated couple and went to bed. Tomorrow would be very interesting indeed. She anticipated more than one type of hangover in the morning but was quite convinced all was well. Everything would work out exactly as it should.