Here it is - the last chapter. At least for now... Perhaps at a later time, I will add different episodes from Elizabeth and Darcy's life, but they would be more like one-shots. Thank you all very much for following this story and for commenting on it. It was my first foray into fan fiction and I didn't expect it to be so much fun. It was all thanks to your feedback :) I'm sad to end this, but this was as far as I had planned and I feel that this is where it needs to end. Thank you again for reading and maybe till next time!

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Jane Austen.

- 13 -

Although Elizabeth wanted to spend as much time as possible with her family before she would leave for Derbyshire, she found her thoughts now to be always with Mr. Darcy. Because they were in each other's company so often, there were things that she could only speak about with him. There were expressions only he could read; changes of feeling only he knew the reason for.

Elizabeth wondered whether Mr. Darcy had already begun to change her. She decided to ask her sister about it.

"I'm happy to say that you are your old, cheerful self again," Jane replied, "in fact, you are much more cheerful at the prospect of marrying Mr. Darcy than I would ever have believed possible."

During the last weeks, Elizabeth had watched Jane grow more self-assured because Charles Bingley was always so eager to solicit her opinion and to pay heed to what she said.

"Oh Jane, do I behave very foolishly?"

"That I would ever hear you ask such a question!", Jane laughed. "Of course, I do not think you foolish; on the contrary, I think him fortunate. You are fiercely loyal to the ones you love, but you can be equally merciless with those who have lost your good opinion. You must know that there are many people who have every reason to fear your wit. And I wonder if your Mr. Darcy knows how lucky he is to have a champion such as yourself."

Although Jane's words were meant as a compliment, Elizabeth could not help but flinch at this description of herself that might just as well have befitted Mr. Darcy. Part of it sounded not unlike an accusation she had levelled at the man in the past. She had long understood that they were not so different from one another - if anything, they were perhaps too much alike.

"When I see you with him, I know that there is a man who will never have to worry about not being loved with the greatest warmth and determination."

Yes, Elizabeth was determined to love him, although she was not always sure how to go about it. They were both strong-willed and neither expected the other to be perfectly compliant. This was not the kind of relationship he wished for, he had told her so himself. After that afternoon in the library, Elizabeth had asked herself several times whether she should have resisted him. At the same time, she was only too aware of how rewarding it had been to give in.

The married ladies had it quite wrong. He had not demanded anything from Elizabeth. Instead, he had laid his feelings out for her and given her the opportunity to reciprocate. It was this openness that Elizabeth found most disconcerting. Perhaps this was what Georgiana had meant when she had spoken about him being unlike his father - although of course, she could not have alluded to these particular circumstances. Darcy could be commanding, when he was sure to be in the right, but he was just as capable of disarming honesty.

Elizabeth came to believe that it was this particular combination that made it so difficult to resist him. She dearly loved him for his intelligence and his integrity, but she could no longer deny that she was also terribly attracted to him. It had been there ever since that day at Rosings - perhaps she had even felt it before, but had not wanted to linger on it. She was attracted to him and it was not only because he was handsome and well-spoken. He addled her like no one had ever addled her before and in theory, Elizabeth did not like to be addled.

Although nothing was spoken aloud, in the weeks after their kiss in the library, they began to engage in a game that she had not believed a man like Mr. Darcy could enjoy. When they were left alone in her father's library, Elizabeth would get up and amble over to the shelves and she could be sure that he would follow her only moments later. She could feel him pause, as if he was considering his options, wondering which note to strike next. He would either run his fingers along her arms or, when he was feeling brave, press kisses to her neck. They had not dared to kiss again though as they had done at Netherfield.

One day, after a brief hesitation, Darcy began to trace one finger along her spine. It was innocent enough, but the gesture affected Elizabeth more than she could have expected. She started. She should have hidden her face from him, but in an impulse, she spun around and met his eyes instead. Because she did not want to be bashful and embarrassed, she decided to hold his gaze. He must know exactly how she felt. He shut his eyes, waiting for her to make the next move. Elizabeth let her eyes wander: would she touch his hair, his chin, the skin above his cravat, his hands? What she wanted most of all was to kiss him, but she could not muster up the courage. She eventually decided to place her fingers on his lips instead. With her thumb, she traced the contours of his mouth until he parted his lips and she could feel his warm breath on her finger.

When her father re-entered the library, he found his daughter and her betrothed standing at opposite ends of the room and looking rather flustered. He cleared his throat and pretended to be displeased. In truth, he was not very worried - although perhaps he should have been a little worried - he was rather relieved to find that Elizabeth had not exaggerated when she had spoken of her affection for Mr. Darcy. At least, she would not make an unhappy bride.

Two weeks before their wedding, Darcy travelled to London to meet with his solicitor and Elizabeth spent three restless days waiting for his return. The next time he would travel to London, she would be with him. The thought of having him all to herself for at least a month, until Georgiana would join them in Pemberley, definitely filled her with joyful anticipation. Elizabeth had wanted to be in love and if this was what being in love felt like; well, she had no objection.

After his return, they began to spend as much time as possible in each other's company. When the weather was fine, they met between Longbourn and Netherfield to spend an hour reading together underneath a tree and were perfectly able on these occasion to behave. Although discreetly, Darcy always found a way to caress her hand or to speak into her ear, he left it at that, well aware that - tempting as it was - neither of them would benefit from foolishness. This did not mean though that they were not occasionally eager to tempt fate.

One day, when it looked like rain and Mrs. Bennet had already chided Elizabeth for wanting to walk out in the first place, she left the house anyway and then they lingered longer than necessary underneath the tree until the rain started to fall and it was too late to turn back either to Longbourn or to Netherfield. Elizabeth and Darcy ran hand in hand and managed to find shelter underneath the roof of a shed before they were drenched to the bone. She wondered whether he might have known how conveniently located this shelter was. When Elizabeth turned to face her betrothed, she found him looking sheepish.

He was the one who felt for the door - and found it unlocked - but he did not step inside until Elizabeth took his hand and made him follow her. There were no windows and only a little daylight came through the cracks in the wood. They could hardly make out each other's faces. It was so dark, Elizabeth thought, that they might as well not be here at all and that anything that happened in this room might as well not have taken place. The rain was crashing on the roof and it would be useless to speak. It was as if all the circumstances conspired to put their defenses to the test.

He had taken a few steps back. Despite the darkness, Elizabeth could make out his white shirt and cravat. It was impossible for him to initiate anything in these circumstances. He would move only if she gave him a sign. Elizabeth tentatively began to walk towards him. Instead of putting her hands to his face, she decided to slip them inside his jacket and wrap them around his waist. Her arms were bare and cold now and he was pleasantly warm. Because he was not wearing a waistcoat, she could feel his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her close. This could not be so very wrong, Elizabeth thought. Being able to rest her head against his chest was too lovely not to indulge herself.

His lips were wet from the rain and his skin smelled of sun and water. When he began to deepen the kiss, Elizabeth recognised the now familiar feeling of weightlessness that came with these particular endearments. She moved her hand and started. His shirt had come untucked, perhaps during the run through the rain, and she realised that her fingers had brushed against the skin of his back. He drew his head back and stood perfectly still. Elizabeth wondered what it might have felt like for him. She wondered whether she would ever know.

Tentatively, Elizabeth moved her finger to the spot again. He opened his eyes and looked at her. Then he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. At first, Elizabeth was not sure that she had understood him correctly. He repeated himself. "Please." His lips brushed against her neck.

Elizabeth did not understand what exactly it was he wanted from her. Only then did she become aware of the fact that his hands were shaking. She took hold of them.

"I do not think the rain will stop."

His voice was hoarse. It was true that Elizabeth had to return home. She had been out too long and her family, who believed her to be out on her own, would begin to worry. Darcy smiled. Elizabeth held up their hands and pressed them against her chest.

"It will," she said, "soon. Very soon."