This is a classic P&P story, everything has been cannon up until Darcy's Hunsford proposal and early morning letter exchange when a sudden storm changes the entire story...this is a what if P&P. I'm going to try to write the characters as close to the originals as I can, but I'm not Jane Austin and I don't own the character's I'd appreciate your feedback on the story so please review if you can.

Elizabeth sat on the hard earth, staring at the letter in her lap. Everything she had ever thought or known had crumbled around her. How had she missed Darcy's interest in her? Charlotte had mentioned the possibility on more than one occasion. Even Jane had commented on how often his gaze seemed to rest upon her and yet Elizabeth herself had never considered the possibility. She, who had always prided herself on her ability to read and study people... To find herself severely lacking in perception was a knock to her confidence.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She laughed aloud at her own naivety but it was a hollow, humourless sound. To think she had convinced herself that he only looked upon her to criticize! Elizabeth closed her eyes, remembering the way his dark penetrating gaze frequently lingered on her face and form. A shiver ran through her body and a audible gasp sprang from her lips at the memory. Her eyes sprang open and she shook her head vigorously, desperately trying to dispel the thought. But, try as she might, she could not shake the mental image of Mr. Darcy's intent gaze.

Unbidden, another image came to mind: Jane's heart broken face. He had done that to her, Elizabeth's favourite sister – who she loved more than her own self. Whatever good there was in him, his pride had brought about the misery of the sweetest creature she had ever known. Elizabeth might have been mistaken about many things: Wickham, her own abilities, Darcy's motive's - but he had made just as many and more long lasting errors.

She would not allow Darcy's words of love to sway her - or her own traitorous mind to collude in this gambit. She would think of him no more.

Her decision was made. She stood up and began walking back towards the Parsonage. As always, she began to feel better the instant her body was in motion; activity cleared her mind and invigorated her heart.

No sooner had she begun to walk than the heavens opened and rain began to fall at an alarming rate. It took only a few second of rain to soak through her thin summer Spencer.

Elizabeth looked around desperately for a shelter to hide until the rain abated, but although she was reasonably acquainted with the area through her rambles, she could not think of anywhere suitable to go.

Elizabeth stumbled back into the woods, hoping to find a large tree to take refuge under. She walked a short way before settling under a large oak tree, pressing her back tightly to the trunk in an effort to dodge the large droplets of rain that continued to fall on her bonnet with loud thuds.

She soon realised that the trees canopy didn't provide sufficient coverage and began to move further into the woods in search of better shelter. Her tread faltered as she tried to move quickly in order to escape the downpour; the ground had become muddy and slick with water and leaves.

The ground slid under her boot, making her ankle turn in an unnatural and painful way. An unladylike howl escaped her mouth as her body fell with a crash onto the wet forest floor. Panic overtook her as she tried unsuccessfully to stand. The pain was nearly unbearable. Elizabeth lay back in the mud, letting the large rain droplets fall on her bare face.

Eyes squeezed tight, she tried to regain her composure. Having always been the most hardy and robust of her sisters, she was determined to overcome the pain and find help.

"Elizabeth?" A voice called.

She glanced around but could not detect where the voice had originated from. Bracing her weight on her arms to prop herself up, and peering intently through the dense foliage, she finally detected a dark figure amongst the trees.

The figure moved swiftly towards her. Elizabeth could soon make out the outline of a tall man with broad shoulders. She hoped and prayed that it was not the very gentleman whose letter had distracted her so catastrophically that she missed the change in weather, and neglected to get indoors before the storm began.

Her hopes were dashed as Mr. Darcy's statuesque form stepped into the clearing. His long stride ate up the ground between them and, in a few short steps, he was looming over her. A look of indecision marred his otherwise handsome features.

"Eliza….." he stopped himself, swallowing his words. "Miss Bennet,"he bowed formally.

Elizabeth bit back a laugh at the image he presented. Although his coat had sheltered him rather more effectively than hers had, divots of water still poured over his shoulders. His thick, brown, curly hair was almost black with moisture and was plastered to his head. Mud caked his usually crisp linen breeches almost to the knees.

"Have you finished inspecting my apparel, Miss Bennet?" his sardonic tone alerted her to the fact that she had been silently appraising him for some time. Her eyes flickered back to his face. His dark eyes were clouded with annoyance.

"Because - forgive me for saying so, Miss Bennet - for I know how much you believe in always being gentlemanly, but your own apparel is not above reproach" his rich baritone voice was seeped in bitterness.

Glancing down at her reclined form, she saw that her pale lemon dress was now smeared with liberal amounts of mud and clung shockingly to her body. Her Spencer was crumpled beneath her back in a hard lump and her bonnet hung limply around her eyes.

She felt a blush spread across her face. To be seen by anyone in this state would have been a disgrace but to have Mr. Darcy of all people find her in such a compromising and embarrassing a position was almost too much to bear.

"Forgive me, Miss Bennet. That was uncalled for," he said, his voice sounding both contrite and concerned. "We should not be talking of clothes or manners when you are clearly in need of aid."

Mr. Darcy knelt at her side, his knee sinking quickly into the wet earth. His cold hand wrapped around her ankle, lifting it gently from where it lay in a pool of water.

"Forgive me for the liberty." Darcy's voice was hoarse as his hands reached up her calf, his fingers skimming along her leg, up under her knee to the top of her stocking.

A bolt of electricity through her body at his touch and she found her breath came out in sharp short gasps. As his fingers found her bare skin, a sigh escaped his lips. He touched her soft inner thigh and his eyes flickered momentarily to her face. Elizabeth knew not what she looked like, but she imagined that her expression was not that dissimilar to his: Confusion, anger, and lust waging a war for dominance.

"I - " Darcy cleared his throat loudly. "I will need to ascertain the level of injury before I attempt to move you from your current location."Elizabeth was surprised; she had never heard his speak so hesitantly before.

His eyes darted back to her face.

"Is this acceptable, Miss Bennet?"he asked. His hand was still on her thigh, his fingers inching below the seams of her stockings, his thumb rubbing small circles into her sensitive skin.

The sensation was beyond anything she had ever felt; her whole body seemed to buzz with the feeling of his skin against hers. She felt herself nod, not knowing or caring to what she agreed, so long as he did not stop touching her.

At her nod his fingers dipped further below the stocking seam. Ever so slowly, Darcy began to roll the stocking down her leg, keeping his eyes fixed on Elizabeth's face as he did so. His was now expressionless - apart from a slight frown across his forehead.

Elizabeth knew her blush must be deep indeed, for despite the cold rain, her face burned with heat.

Darcy finally dragged his eyes away from her face. Cradling her foot in one hand, he began to carefully undo her boot laces with the other.

"I am going to have to remove the shoe" he warned as worked. "I am afraid that it is going to hurt, Eliz- Miss Bennet. But it must be done. Are you ready my lo-" he stopped so abruptly that it sounded like he choked on the word. The tender look on his face vanished in a heartbeat. "Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, Mr Darcy. As you say, it must be done." She took a deep breath and nodded. "Please, go ahead and remove it. I will try my best not to move."

As Darcy began to ease the boot from her foot, the pain was so intense that she had to fight the urge to pull her foot from his grip. Elizabeth instantly regretted giving him permission to remove the boot.

Feeling her leg jerk, Darcy immediately ceased his actions.

"Tell me when you are ready to proceed,"he said compassionately, allowing her time to compose herself.

"I'm ready. Honestly, it was only a momentary weakness,"she assured him through gritted teeth.

"Not at all, Miss Bennet. If - as I suspect - you have sprained your ankle, I am impressed that you have not fainted or screamed." He gave her a comforting smile. "When I fell from my horse as young boy, spraining my own ankle in the process, I could not help but utter a few choice words."

Elizabeth couldn't help but return his smile. It was astonishing, the way his smile lit up his face and made his handsome features look younger. Like this, he was closer to the young boy he mentioned than the dour, silent man she was accustomed to.

"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"he asked. It was only then that she noticed he had somehow managed to remove her boot completely, and was gently pulling the stocking off.

He cradled her foot in his hands, softly running his fingers across the swollen, rapidly bruising skin of her ankle. She winced at the pain that even his tender touch created.

"I think it is sprained but, luckily, not broken,"he pronounced.

"So, now all we have to do is get you somewhere out of this rain until I am able to procure a doctor for you."

"That may prove most difficult, Sir," Elizabeth admitted. She hated to divulge weakness to anyone but especially to Mr. Darcy. "I am afraid that I am unable to stand."

His dark eyes bored into hers.

"I'm aware of that, Miss Bennett." He paused as if choosing his words carefully. "That is why I intend to carry you."

She shook her head. Carry her? She was certain neither her dignity nor her fragile nerves could withstand such a thing.

"Mr Darcy! Surely you cannot be serious!"she exclaimed. "I am already in a compromising position. To allow you to lift me and carry me in your arms would undoubtedly ruin my reputation."

"You must see that there is no other choice?"he asked. His voice once again held its usual authoritative edge."You cannot remain here, in an ever increasing puddle on the ground, and you cannot walk, therefore I must carry you."

Elizabeth felt her temper rise at his tone. How dare he speak to her as if she were a child!

"Are you not able to leave me here to go and fetch help?"she replied, her arched manner alerting him instantly to her ire.

His mouth twitched."Are you really asking me, Miss Bennet, to abandon a lone, injured female in the rain - in the centre of a forest - to retrieve help from either the Parsonage or Rosings both of which are at least a half hour walk from here?"

"Mr Darcy. I am not afraid of the dark or the damp therefore neither the rain nor the forest is cause for you to stay." Elizabeth needed desperately to be away from his presence, his dark looks and the touch had awakened such a strange chain reaction within her.

"You have already injured your foot, Miss Bennet. If you continue to lay on the wet ground for much longer you will most certainly catch a chill - if not something worse. So the damp, as you put it, may not be something you fear but most definitely be something you should avoid." He smiled as his cold logic chipped away at her flimsy argument.

"And the dark, as you so elegantly put it-" He raised an eye brow and glanced around the dense, secluded wooded area. "Well, as I said, you are already injured and unable to move. I shudder to think what would have happened if anyone besides myself had come across you." His almost playful tone turned serious and he once again glance around him.

Elizabeth could not deny the logic behind his argument. But -"Is there no place closer than Rosings or the Parsonage?" she asked. "No servants' cottage where you might find aid?"

"I must remind you that this is not my home, Miss Bennet," he replied dryly. "My apologies but I am unaware of where alternative help may be found. However if you could guide me I am, as ever, your servant." He bowed his head mockingly.

Mr. Darcy looked at her expectantly. She longed to be able to retort affirmatively and wipe the arrogant look from his face as she had done on so many occasions in the past.

"So... As I was saying, Miss Bennet,"he continued. "I will carry you to a small shelter I am aware of near by. It was actually where I was heading to wait out the rain myself when I heard your voice."

"So there is another residence near by?" Elizabeth asked, shocked that he had contradicted himself.

"It is but a small hut only,"he replied obviously aware of her scepticism, "No one resides there. It is only used to store tools for the forester."

"Is there no-"her sentence was cut short as Mr Darcy moved suddenly. His arm snaked around her waist and under her knees. Elizabeth found herself rather abruptly cradled firmly against his broad chest. He stood holding her close as if she weighed nothing at all.

"I believe we have debated long enough, Miss Bennet." He looked down at her as he spoke, his warm breath washing over her face. "As much as I normally enjoy the challenge, I think we should delay the pleasure until we are both somewhere indoors and dry."

With these words Mr. Darcy strode forward into the dense forest from which he had emerged.