Chapter Text
She ran.
She ran fast.
She ran without caring to look around her. Through the cloud of angry tears she could only make out the green of trees whooshing at her both sides. The chilly wind of the winter morning gushed past her wet cheeks and through the sound of the wind she could still hear the faint voice of her mother chasing her - accusing, angry, frustrated. She didn’t know whether it was her mother or the voice originated itself in her weary brain.
She didn’t care.
She just wanted to be away from it all, the chaos and conundrum of her home, the chaos and conundrum of her heart. So, she ran and ran and ran, until she collided with something solid.
It was solid, but not the kind that breaks your bones - hard, cold and unyielding. It was the kind of solid you could lean on when your whole world decided to take a spin - warm and supportive. And more so, it caught her before she could crush hard on the ground and a vaguely familiar scent washed over her, soothing her as if on its own.
She dared to look up and for the first time since she rushed out of her home, she could feel her world settling on a single object.
"Mr Darcy!"
"Miss Elizabeth!"
Both of them spoke at once, both in surprised whispers.
The fog in her head was starting to clear as Elizabeth became aware of the warmth that spread through her body despite the shivering in her spine. She became aware of the places where Mr Darcy's hands were holding her tightly - one on her upper arm, another on her waist… the thumping of her heart which rhymed with the strong beats of his hard chest… the ticklish sensation where his hot breath fanned the stray locks beside her ear…
Their eyes locked. Mr Darcy's blue-grey eyes widened for a fraction of second before it turned hard with unfathomable emotions locked behind. He drew his hand away from her as if burned and took a few steps back. And suddenly Elizabeth felt cold and hollow.
Mr Darcy cleared his throat and said, "Are you well this morning, Miss Bennet?"
"Do you think that I would never get an offer of marriage again?" Elizabeth blurted out.
"Perdon!"
"Oh do not answer. I know it already," Elizabeth turned away from him, moving the sticky locks from her damp forehead, "I am not handsome enough to tempt you!"
Mr Darcy flinched. He knew that her accusations were not misplaced; yet, deep down, a small part of him felt a sharp pain at those words laced with such hatred.
He closed the gap between them by taking a few involuntary steps towards her. Maybe it was the alcohol from previous night's ball still in his blood or maybe the unusual circumstance of this unexpected meeting with the woman who slipped in and out of his half-asleep awareness throughout the night, Mr Darcy put a tentative hand on her shoulder and asked with unexpected softness, "Are you alright?"
"Mr Collins proposed," Elizabeth let out a bitter laugh, "And he and my mother think that this is the only offer of marriage that I am ever going to get. Me, poor Lizzie, not half so handsome as Jane, nor half so engaging as Lydia!"
"Mr Collins proposed to you!"
"Why? Am I not handsome enough to tempt even Mr Collins?" Elizabeth turned around sharply to face him again. This time her eyes were burning, although tears still hung from her eyelashes. She gulped her disgust as she pictured Mr Collins as her husband : the sweating toad-like face, the beady eyes glinting with lust as he neared her bed. She shut her eyes tightly, yet the images in her mind's eyes couldn’t be unseen any more.
Darcy, on the other hand, was completely at a loss. Coming face to face so closely to her, his breath caught. The fierce look on her face, the strange mix of helplessness and determination in her eyes, her lips - swollen and red, her hair unruly, framing her beautiful face like a halo… he didn’t know what he was saying before opened his mouth, "You are one of the most beau-"
"Lizzie, Lizzie, where are you?"
Darcy closed his mouth abruptly mid-sentence as he was interrupted by a high pitched voice close by. But he wasn’t fast enough to put some distance between him and the flustered woman at his arm's length. So when Lydia, the youngest and silliest of the Bennets, discovered Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet in the woods they were standing facing each other, far closer than deemed appropriate, the demeanour of the said lady disheveled, and above everything else, unchaperoned.
"Oh my God! MAMMA!"