Hello everyone. This is my first attempt at writing a story. I love Pride and Prejudice and all the fanfiction out there, so thought it was high time I tried too. Hope you enjoy. I will update as soon as I can, sometimes real life gets in the way.

It was a dreary, wet miserable kind of morning that Elizabeth Bennet woke up to following that memorable evening. As the rain pattered on the window, Elizabeth dressed half-heartedly, for she had desperately wanted to go for a long walk which the weather was now preventing. Oh, how she wished Jane was with her to ease her mind.

Claiming a headache the previous evening to avoid a certain gentleman in order to gather her thoughts had originally seemed like a simple and foolproof excuse. How wrong she was. That very gentleman had arrived not half an hour after the Collins' had departed for dinner at the big house, apologising on his way through the door for disturbing her and stating that he hoped she was feeling better, all whilst barely glancing at her.

Not for the first time did Elizabeth note his dark looks, which appeared slightly more dishevelled than usual. It was not lost on her that he was attractive; however, she would not be prevailed to think of him so. Determined as she was to hate him. Always staring at her, frowning as if finding fault in anything she said or did. Silently disapproving of everything in the world, and of everyone in it.

Hateful man.

Before he could speak further, though, Elizabeth had something very pressing that she wanted to hear from his lips. She needed to know why someone so wholly unconnected with her sister would injure her so abominably. Why had he treated his childhood friend with such distance and abandonment? And while she was at it, why did he stare at her all the time?

"Mr Darcy," she began. "Thank you for your concern over my health. While the headache remains, I believe it is passed its worst. Forgive me sir, but, why are you here and not with your family?"

Mr Darcy hesitated, apparently struggling for words.

"I, err, found myself walking out this way when I passed Mr Collins and his family on the way to Rosings. I may have sequestered myself behind a large tree to, ahem, well, hide. I overheard Mr Collins effusing to his wife and her sister that you were indisposed and how that would irritate my Aunt greatly, and I would prefer not to be present for his effusive comments and simpering remarks".

Although Elizabeth was determined to dislike the man, she could not help but laugh. Mr Darcy had made her laugh. What was happening?

The corners of Mr Darcy's lips twitched upwards, and he very nearly smiled at the sound. It was so musical. Bingley may go on about angels and dear girls, but none of them had ever compared to the beautiful woman in front of him. He was about to press on with the reason he was walking this way before his courage left him. Elizabeth continued.

"Yes, he can be most elaborative when he wants to be."

"Quite."

"Mr Darcy. Here you are, making me laugh at my Cousin, when normally all you do is stare and remain silent in a corner. I've tried to work out your character since the earliest moments of our acquaintance. Can I trust you to be honest with me, sir?"

"You can be assured madam, that I would not have it any other way".

Elizabeth took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, wondering where exactly to begin. The two most pressing concerns battled for supremacy in her head, so she decided to take them in chronological order. She really wanted to scream at him for what he did to Jane, but knew that if she did, not only would she be unladylike, but also likely not to hear the answer to the other question on her lips. Darcy shifted uncomfortably, looking slightly nervous, for she looked very serious and so far things were not going as he had hoped.

"Would you tell me sir, what exactly happened between you and Mr. Wickham?"

Mr Darcy froze. This was the last thing that he expected.

Elizabeth continued. "I met the gentleman last-"

"Miss Bennet" Mr Darcy interrupted. "Wherever this conversation is going, please allow me to correct you. That man is certainly no gentleman".

Elizabeth blinked, startled.

"Why, of course not, he has said himself that you refused him the living to enable him to remain so. He told me you refused your father's last wishes and prevented him from entering the Church after your time together at University, leaving him to make his own way in the world with no support. Is this true?"

Mr Darcy took a breath. He had not come to Hunsford to discuss that wretch of a man. Indeed, he had much more pleasurable intentions, but it appeared they would have to wait. He would never deny his Elizabeth anything, especially when she was to be his wife. Hoping that the truth regarding the man would assist him, he began.

"Miss Bennet, please allow me to explain my history with George Wickham, and I would appreciate any questions be saved for the end."

Elizabeth nodded, and settled back against the chair.

Mr Darcy sighed and sat down on the adjacent chair.

"It is true that my father cared for Mr Wickham, more than most would for the son of the Steward of their estate. We grew up together as boys and, were for want of a better word, brothers. We would play together, study together, even try and get the loveliest girls to dance with us when we started attending assemblies."

He smiled slightly at the memories, which made his face much less stern. Elizabeth smiled slightly at the thought of this playful, youthful Mr Darcy, however; that man was a complete stranger to her. The moment passed as soon as it arrived when Mr Darcy continued, looking more forlorn than ever.

"How wrong I was. Early into our days together at University, I began to see the true George. The George that had always been there, but I looked the other way without realising. He ran up the most terrible gambling debts and drank himself silly almost every night. It wasn't long before the coachman hired to escort either or both of us around town found himself collecting Wickham in the early hours after he had been thrown out of -" at this Mr Darcy coughed, looking at the innocent young lady in front of him. "Ah, humph, houses of ill repute".

He blushed ever so slightly, which Elizabeth would have noticed, had she not averted her eyes immediately in embarrassment. She had read of such places in books her father had not hidden well enough in his library. Her father would probably ban her from his library if he ever found out that she had read his copy of Tom Jones. She wasn't entirely sure what happened in such places, but understood enough from what was implied to know that fallen women worked there and that true gentlemen would not venture into one. She wasn't sure if she should acknowledge that she understood Mr Darcy or not, being an unmarried lady with supposedly a sheltered and completely innocent upbringing befitting of a gentleman's daughter.

She shifted on her seat, the implications of what Mr Darcy was revealing, if true, cast a very different light on things. Looking up, she frowned, holding her normally impertinent tongue as requested, and nodded at Mr Darcy to continue.

"Well, you get the idea. I paid his debts, I always did. It was not until I returned home in my last year of study that I understood exactly what devastation had been left by Mr Wickham. It was then that my father," Mr Darcy paused, looking pained and swallowed hard. Elizabeth resisted the urge to reach out a hand. How distressed he looked! "My father passed away after a sudden illness. An apoplexy, the Doctor said. It left him unconscious, unable to communicate or eat anything. He slipped away from us, leaving me and my sister, only eight years old at the time, alone in the world".

Mr Darcy's eyes moistened at the memory. He did not want to show Elizabeth, but at this point, a small hand reached out, and he held his breath. Such a petite, delicate hand, the skin translucent like a pearl in his coarser, larger and more tanned one. He glanced up to see Elizabeth's face full of compassion that he had not seen directed to him before and resisted the urge to stroke his thumb over her tender skin.

"I'm so sorry to hear that sir. What a horrible way to pass from this world. And with no one to comfort you and your sister." Elizabeth was truly distressed.

Mr Darcy gave a small smile. She knew not what the feelings her hand over his did to him. Despite not wanting to break the moment, he continued, dropping the hand with regret.

"Thank you. It would indeed have been a comfort if our mother had lived. She passed within a few months of giving birth to my sister. No amount of learning ever truly prepares oneself for the facts of life. It was hard, but I had to be strong for my sister. I undertook my new found responsibilities with perhaps more vigour than one might expect, however; to not do so would have made me slip into a pit of despair. I unconsciously shunned any company that I had not known before, at times becoming quite reclusive and buried myself in my work. I was maybe a little too distant from Georgiana at times, torn between grief and raising her as a father rather than her beloved brother. She would have loved more than anything to have a sister. I will hopefully provide that someday".

He looked directly at Elizabeth then, his eyes searching hers as if to try and pass on a secret meaning. Elizabeth returned his gaze, wondering what he could mean. This was by far the longest conversation he had ever had with her.

He continued after a moment's pause.

"It was around this time that the housekeeper found me to talk about George Wickham. She entered my office, having sought a meeting earlier that day. Never had I seen Mrs Reynolds look so anxious. Forgive me for speaking plainly, Miss Bennet. It transpired that Wickham had sought the company of three of the chambermaids when no one else was around over the last couple of years. While Mrs Reynolds was a firm but fair mistress, she would not allow three girls to work under Pemberley's roof whilst with child and not married. It is not clear if they allowed other men into their bed as well, but Mrs Reynolds was certain it was just the man I had treated as my brother. You cannot imagine what news this was to someone who had admired him most of his life, even if recently he had shown less desirable characteristics".

Elizabeth gasped and her mouth hung open at these revelations. Her pale countenance worried Mr Darcy, and he wondered if he should have said so much in front of a maiden.

"How dare he" she began. "He danced with me, and my sisters. He... he... Oh my! The cobbler's daughter in Meryton! She was sent away last month, and the blacksmith's the month before that! My sister Lydia was gossiping with my Aunt Phillips before I came to Hunsford about it. I admonished her, telling her not to listen to idle rumours, but what if that was that blackguard as well, then she was right".

Elizabeth was truly distressed. Her hand had shot to her mouth on the realisation of what a man she had fancied herself to like. She questioned everything that man had told her about Mr Darcy and his past. Looking up at his eyes, which were constantly seeking hers, she nodded.

"Please continue Mr Darcy. I would hear all that you wish to tell me. But rest assured, I will not seek his company ever again. I believe I have been truly mistaken in his character."

Mr Darcy looked at the lady, concerned as he was about his revelations and what it might do. However, if it stopped Wickham from pursuing the Bennet ladies, he would continue.

"I begged Mrs Reynolds to give me the names and last known addresses of the maids and personally visited their houses. I could not express how sorry I was to them and their families, the harm someone I had once loved could inflict on them. I provided for the girls an allowance for the upkeep of the two young boys already in the world, and the small girl on the way and promised that they would be looked after by the estate should they not find husbands."

"Oh Mr Darcy, that was very generous of you".

"It was the least I could do. I did not think for a second that the maids would have been in that situation if my father or I had not been so blind. There are other things as well, which I beg you not to ask me about. I may tell you one day, but for now Miss Bennet, they are not only my secret to keep."

Elizabeth nodded.

"After these events, Wickham informed me he wished to study Law and requested the £3000 living be paid in cash, rather than enter into the Church. I think you will agree he was not made for a clerical life" he said with a small, sad smile. "Later, I learned that he had frittered away that sum within six months and not even applied for Law School. I cut all ties with him when I handed that money over and wished him to be sincere in his apologies and future dreams. It appears, from what you have said, that he has not changed in the years since. How he has lived all these years, I do not know. I only wish that his character was better known so that people would stay clear of him, however; out of respect for the memory of my father and his, I have remained silent. It appears i shouldn't have."

Mr Darcy sighed, the painful memories were not something he thought he would be reliving tonight of all nights.

They sat in silence for several moments while she absorbed this new and startling information. She had been completely taken in by Mr Wickham and believed every word. She had never asked for his story, and he certainly gave it willingly. Far too willingly it now seemed. She began to see Mr Darcy in a new light. He added.

"My cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam knows the entire history between Wickham and myself. If you have any further questions, or would like a second source, please avail yourself upon him. He does seem to have a particular fondness for your company."

At the mention of the Colonel's name, Elizabeth started. She had been warming to Mr Darcy throughout his tale, even beginning to like him a little, when that all came crashing down. Her walk earlier that day with the Colonel and his revelations came flooding back to her. Anger that had been subdued by his sorry tale of his father's passing and the revelations about Mr Wickham bubbled to the surface. Any embers that had begun to glow went out immediately.

Looking the gentleman sitting across from her squarely in the eye, she asked "And what about your treatment of your friend and my beloved sister? What reason do you have to separate them so cruelly?"

A/N

Loosely based on the characters invented by the brilliant Jane Austen, this is my own story just for a bit of fun.

I am a geo-environmental engineer by day/medieval reenactor by weekend, with no background in writing.

I now fully appreciate all the work that goes into every story on this website to share with us all for free - keep the comments nice but I appreciate feedback.

I am not the best proofreader, my husband has volunteered to read these when he can before they go up, even though all he knows about P&P is the 1995 BBC series he's been made to watch, and thinks it's hilarious to make a 'grrr' noise when the camera cuts to Mr Darcy staring.