Posted on: 2009-05-29

Chapter Seven

The gifting ceremony over, Mr. Darcy escorted Lizzy back to their table; evidently the time for more toasts had come. As everyone's wineglasses were being refilled, Lizzy removed the stopper from her little crystal bottle and held it to her nose. The smell of the peculiar liquid inside was as familiar as it was strong and unpleasant - it smelled like Miss Bingley's perfume. Lizzy had a sudden, mischievous desire to test the effects of the potion, and looking around to see that her actions were not observed, not even by the sphinx with the piercing gaze who had scrutinized her all evening, she poured one tiny drop of the red elixir into Mr. Darcy's wine. Lizzy had noticed that Mr. Darcy had a long scratch on his left hand, which she surmised had been inflicted during his 'abduction' by the centaur earlier. If the potion truly could heal all wounds, the scratch should disappear.

Lizzy observed Mr. Darcy anxiously as he lifted his glass following Fitzwilliam's eloquent and verbose toast to the future of Darcinia. Mr. Darcy brought the glass to his lips, but then a look of distaste colored his features, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust, and then lowered the glass without taking a sip. Lizzy quickly averted her eyes and took a sip from her own glass, though she could see from the corner of her eye that Mr. Darcy turned to look at her with a curious expression on his face. Lizzy did not have the courage look at Mr. Darcy during the subsequent toasts offered by others, but she could tell that he was only pretending to drink his wine. Finally, Mr. Darcy raised his glass to offer his own toast, and the whole assembly fell silent to hear him speak.

"To Miss Elizabeth Bennet - the real reason spring has returned to this beautiful land."

This tribute was greeted by the crowd with an enthusiastically approving roar, and Lizzy could not help but laugh, especially when Mr. Darcy turned to her and winked before resuming his seat.

As no one could possibly offer any other toast more inspiring to those gathered, no others ensued, and the long tables of revelers returned to conversation amongst themselves, with small groups gradually drifting away towards their tents for the night. Though now quite tired, Lizzy enjoyed a little more convivial discourse with those around her, as before, under the watchful eye of the sphinx, and she noticed that Mr. Darcy was engaged in an apparently serious discussion with Fitzwilliam, carried on in low tones so as not to be generally heard. He caught Lizzy's eye once when she happened to glance his way, and a look of concern washed over his features.

Mr. Darcy said, "Fitzwilliam, I fear Miss Bennet has had a very long day, and is fatigued. If you do not mind us deserting the feast, I would appreciate some privacy to talk to Miss Bennet, and then we would both like to be shown to our quarters for the night."

Fitzwilliam was eager to comply with any request from Mr. Darcy, and bidding them both goodnight in what was likely for him a very restrained speech, he gestured to some fairies to lead Mr. Darcy and Lizzy back to the same tent where they had rested and refreshed themselves earlier. Lizzy followed wearily, if anxiously, knowing that as much as she wanted to sleep, she also wanted to speak to Mr. Darcy to find out what he was planning, and to see if she could determine the reason for his peculiar behavior towards her.

Once inside the lavish pavilion, Lizzy sank down on one of the sofas and closed her eyes for a few moments. She heard Mr. Darcy dismiss the fairies, saying he would summon them when they were needed again, and then she heard the sounds of him walking about the tent, and the clinking of glasses, and the sound of liquid being poured into them. Now that she was left in relative peace and solitude, she was overwhelmed all at once by the events of the day, which, coupled with her concern for her sister, made her want to cry from sheer exhaustion and frustration. Resentment towards Miss Bingley, and anger that that lady's bizarre machinations had led her to such a pass made resisting tears only that much harder, but Lizzy had no desire to cry in front of Mr. Darcy, though she knew not why his presence should restrain her from exhibiting her true feelings. It never had before.

Just as two tears finally squeezed from her still-closed eyes, Lizzy was drawn from her reverie by the sound of Mr. Darcy speaking in a low voice quite nearby, and was surprised when she opened her eyes to see that he was sitting beside her on the sofa, holding out to her what appeared to be a small glass of sherry.

"You are distressed, Miss Bennet" he said, handing her the glass, placing the untasted glass of brandy in his other hand on the small table, and retrieving his handkerchief from his pocket.

Startled, Lizzy looked guiltily at him, and said, barely above a whisper, as more tears fell from her lashes, "I am sorry, it has been a most trying day. I have much to think about. And I believe we have some things to discuss." She accepted his handkerchief and applied it to her brimming eyes.

Mr. Darcy watched her in silent concern for a moment as she sipped her sherry. Even swimming with tears, her eyes were fine - bewitching, even. He allowed his mind to wander freely for a moment, imagining how it would be if they were at Pemberley together, man and wife, instead of mere acquaintances in a tent in some strange foreign place. How he could comfort her then, if she had a trying day! He could take her in his arms and kiss away her tears; he could caress her and promise to make it all right again. He longed to make her smile return, and make her laugh; before today she had scarcely ever smiled at him, and he had watched with a kind of longing as she bestowed smiles on her family, her friends, his friend Bingley - everyone, it seemed, but himself - and Miss Bingley. But such imaginings were fruitless - he could never make Elizabeth Bennet his wife - he could not even fathom why his mind had conjured up such an image. Mr. Darcy sighed.

"We do not have to discuss anything now, Miss Bennet, if you are not feeling up to it. There is nothing that cannot wait until morning. I will call for the fairies to assist you to your quarters for the night."

He would have risen to do so, but Lizzy stayed him with a hand on his arm. "No, Mr. Darcy, I am fine; I am a little fatigued and worried, but I know I shall not sleep if we do not straighten out a few things first. Earlier, Mr. Darcy, you asked me to trust you when you said you were certain that no one at Netherfield would even know that we are gone. Will you please explain why you think so? I cannot bear the thought that Jane should be worried for me in addition to being ill. I cannot even imagine what she and Mr. Bingley must be thinking in light of the fact that we, along with Miss Bingley, have disappeared for hours, and I shudder to think of my mother being alerted to my disappearance."

"Miss Bennet, I do not think that time passes in the same way in... here as it does in our world. You must have noted that several mentions have been made of the very long time that Miss Bingley has been ruler of this land. It has evidently been for over a hundred years by local reckoning, and she often leaves for many years at a time. And yet, by our time, she has only been at Netherfield for a number of weeks, and except at night, I have been almost continually in her company." Mr. Darcy punctuated this statement with a rueful smile that could almost have been considered a grimace. "Admittedly she has quite frequently delayed dinner because she takes so long at her toilette, but by no means has she ever been gone long enough to even be missed. I suspect that back at Netherfield, Bingley is still playing the game of sardines and looking for us without concern, and even though we will not return until tomorrow by Darcinian time -" Mr. Darcy actually flinched as he said the name of the country "- at Netherfield no more than a few moments will have passed."

"That is, if we are able to return tomorrow," Lizzy sighed. "I cannot be so sanguine that Miss Bingley will be willing to help us. And I wonder whether we ought to trust this so-called Cult of Eliza, either. How do we know that they are what they say, and not loyal subjects to their queen?"

Mr. Darcy stood up from the sofa and began to pace around the tent again, apparently considering his words before offering Lizzy any kind of reassurance. Lizzy was struck with an impetuous urge to again try to test her healing elixir, so while Mr. Darcy's back was turned, she quickly poured a tiny drop into his still untouched glass of brandy. Just as she had replaced the bottle in the pocket of her dress, Mr. Darcy turned to face her once again.

"Miss Bennet, am I correct in thinking that you did not listen to much of Fitzwilliam's overlong speech at the banquet?"

Lizzy managed a weak smile. "You are correct, Mr. Darcy. I could not bear it - I have never in my life encountered anyone able to go on and on at such length. Did I miss anything important?"

"Only the entire history of Darcinia," Mr. Darcy said with a smile. "It seems that Miss Bingley has a despotic streak in her. She controls every aspect of her subjects' existence, and though Fitzwilliam was loath to speak of it, there is some sort of very frightening consequence for disobedience. These poor creatures live in fear for their lives. We will be doing them a great service in bringing her back to Netherfield."

"If she agrees to go. And if she does, how can we ensure that she will not return to Darcinia? After all, you did promise the Darcinians that she would not."

"I have not figured that out yet - but I do know one thing; I am going to request before we leave that they change the name of their country."

"You still do not appreciate the honor?" Lizzy could not keep a teasing glint from her eye.

"No. And how do you feel about 'The Cult of Eliza'?" he returned her impertinence with a grin, sitting down beside her once again and picking up his glass. Lizzy watched him with feigned indifference, and was frustrated that he did not taste the liquor.

"Point taken, Mr. Darcy. I am rather mortified by the name, and indeed by the entire premise of such an organization. And you are truly certain that Miss Bingley will help us return to Netherfield?"

"I think she will have no choice. I asked Fitzwilliam a great many questions after dinner, and it seems that in all the time that she has been queen of... this place, no one has ever actually seen Miss Bingley perform any kind of magical feat. Even the dreadful punishment that Fitzwilliam refused to name is not dependent on the alleged mystical abilities of Miss Bingley. Her first appearance here did coincide with the beginning of the interminable winter, and she apparently dreamt up that ridiculous story about my love for her bringing relief for their suffering. Miss Bingley, of course, knows that I am not in love with her, and the members of the Cult of Eliza never believed it in the first place. Once everyone else here realizes that I am not in love with their queen, and cannot be forced to be so, not even by means of any potion she may try to give me, she will no longer have anything to offer the Darcinians. In fact, in light of the fact that the weather has already changed - without any kind of loving declaration on my part for Miss Bingley, much less our marriage - our current protectors have already had their beliefs confirmed that she was not telling the truth, and I would imagine others are figuring that out as well. According to Fitzwilliam, news like this will travel quickly. By morning, Miss Bingley may not have any supporters left, and she will likely be more than willing to accompany us back to Netherfield and never return."

"If she has not left already, and stranded us here," Lizzy could not help but offer.

"I shudder to even think about such a possibility, Miss Bennet, but I have mentioned the notion to Fitzwilliam, and he has dispatched sentries to watch the grove and stop Miss Bingley if she tries to leave. At any rate, I do not believe she would leave me here, even if she might perhaps be happy to be rid of you - though she must realize that she could never get away with it. However, I think it best that you and I stay together at all costs, and I have directed Fitzwilliam that we wish to leave for the palace at first light. I hope that this is acceptable to you - I know I have been presumptuous in making these arrangements without consulting you, but I have noticed during your stay at Netherfield that you are an early riser like myself."

Lizzy nodded her agreement to his plan, feeling slightly amused that Mr. Darcy had so effortlessly, and perhaps without conscious thought, assumed authority over the Darcinians. She remained pensive for a few moments. "Mr. Darcy, though I care not for her good opinion, I confess I am curious - why does Miss Bingley hate me so? I have never done anything to her. I may not have been especially friendly towards her, but I am at least always civil. Why does she treat me with such obvious hostility?"

Mr. Darcy quickly took a large gulp of his brandy before answering, and when he did, his answer was evasive. "Miss Bingley feels that she is above the generality of society in Hertfordshire."

"Come now, Mr. Darcy, you know it is more than that. While she does not even try to hide her disdain for our country neighborhood, Miss Bingley clearly has an especially great dislike for me personally. You are her friend; what is the basis of her enmity?"

Mr. Darcy sighed. He lifted his drink to his lips once more, but with a sniff, and a look of disgust, he did not take another sip, but placed the glass back on the table. "I would not classify myself as her friend - I am good friends with her brother, but I regard Miss Bingley as an acquaintance only - the sister of a friend, whose society I tolerate only for my friend's sake. And if I am to be honest with you, I would have to tell you that Miss Bingley is jealous of you, and I am afraid that it is my fault."

Lizzy raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Would you be so kind as to elaborate, Mr. Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy hesitated, and Lizzy could see a deep blush overspread his features. "I once mentioned to her that I thought you were pretty, and had fine eyes."

It was then Lizzy's turn to blush. "Oh."

"Yes. And as I seldom express such opinions about ladies of my acquaintance in general, and have never made it a habit to compliment her appearance in particular, since I do not wish to lead her on or encourage her hopes in any way, I am afraid she read a great deal into my remarks."

"And is she not aware of your true opinion, that I am merely tolerable to look at and not handsome enough to tempt you?"

Mr. Darcy surprised Lizzy by suddenly smacking himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. "Oh, so you DID hear that! Miss Bennet, please allow me to apologize for that incredibly boorish and ungentlemanly remark. It was beneath me to say such a thing, and what is more, it is not even true. I mean... erm... my true opinion is that you are very tempting... I mean, oh, that did not come out right!" Mr. Darcy was blushing furiously, and pacing rapidly around the tent, completely unable to meet Lizzy's eye.

Lizzy, for her part, could not have been more astonished.

Derbyshire cowered in front of the queen in her private sitting room at the palace. Everyone knew that Pemberley had been dragged off for the ultimate punishment, and Derbyshire, like all of the staff, or at least, those who still remained, was now terrified of doing anything to displease the queen any further.

"Derbyshire, why I am I kept waiting for my dinner?" She had been kept waiting for her bath, and for her clothes, and now she was hungry and irritated at having to wait for her food.

"I am so very, very sorry, your majesty, but a great number of the staff have disappeared. I am afraid that ever since the sun came out this afternoon, many of your um... loyal servants seem to have... um... forgive me your majesty, but they have ... well, they have quit, I suppose you might say. Or, defected. To the um... enemy." Derbyshire had his own opinion of who the 'enemy' was, and it did not happen to be either the lady or the gentleman who he knew at that very moment were being sheltered by rebels in the forest. He longed to be there himself, but his fear continued to overshadow his loathing for the queen. And if she ever found out what he had done...

"And Moira? Why have I not yet seen her?" Caroline asked through clenched teeth.

"She is nowhere to be found, your majesty."

"Is that so? Well, let me tell you, Derbyshire, if you do not want to join Pemberley in the morning for breakfast, you will find her."

Derbyshire quaked at the very thought of whose breakfast the queen referred to. "Yes, your majesty," he answered her with a squeak.

Mr. Darcy took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and looked Lizzy directly in the eye. She forced herself to hold his gaze, pushing away unwanted, distracting thoughts about the intensity of his blue eyes.

"What I mean to say, Miss Bennet, is that I admire you, and find you very attractive. I apologize for my remarks to the contrary, and regret any wound I may have given to your feelings. If I have, over the course of our brief acquaintance thus far, done or said anything else that has given you cause to believe that I dislike you, please forgive me, and accept my assurances that any offense was unintentional. The truth is, I l... l... I like you, Miss Bennet. Elizabeth. I am grieved, indeed, to find that my words and actions have given you such an erroneous impression of my opinion of you, and I beg you to disregard all that has passed between us thus far, and consent to start over as... friends."

A brief silence followed this extraordinary declaration as Mr. Darcy continued to hold Lizzy captive to his earnest gaze. He had behaved so peculiarly all evening, but this speech was beyond the pale. And yet, she continued to be mesmerized by those eyes! She knew that this tête-à-tête must end at once. At length she found her voice.

"Very well, Mr. Darcy. We shall be friends. It seems, in any case, that we must rely on each other for our mutual benefit in finding a way home, and so any past enmity between us is best forgot." Lizzy considered offering him her hand, but decided that his strange behavior, and her own bewildering notice of his attractiveness made such personal contact unwise. "Now, I am very tired, Mr. Darcy, so I think I will ask to be taken to my quarters for the night." She quickly stood and, without looking at him again, curtseyed and walked briskly towards the opening of the tent.

"Miss Bennet, if you could but wait a few more minutes, there is another issue that I think you need to be made acquainted with."

Lizzy stopped, and then slowly turned and walked back to the sofa. She again withheld her gaze from Mr. Darcy's face as she sat down. "Yes, Mr. Darcy?" she said.

"Miss Bennet, as you well know, Miss Bingley has spread tales throughout this land that the only way that the weather here can be restored to normal is through my marriage to her. The followers of the Cult of Eliza have always disbelieved her claim, and the events of today have confirmed their beliefs in that regard."

"Yes, I know."

"Well, they have had a different theory all this time, regarding my feelings about you, and, well... the events of today seem also to have confirmed their beliefs in that respect."

"What exactly do you mean, Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy sighed and looked nervous. "Let me explain to you what has happened today from the vantage point of the... cultists. Evidently, both the queen and, well, your supporters have long kept that pine grove with the water pump, where we each arrived here, under surveillance. You met very quickly with that faun, Pemberley, because he was watching for you. He is a spy for Miss Bingley. However, there was a spy for this group there as well, and when he saw you, he recognized you somehow for who you are, and then heard you say your name to Pemberley. He immediately sent a message to his leaders that you had arrived.

"Then, not too long after, I arrived, and as I called your name, it appeared to the watcher that I had come in search of you, which, of course, I had, though not for the reason he thought. I then followed your footprints in the snow, and thereby confirmed his assumption that I came in pursuit of you, and he sent another message to that effect, which is, of course, what led to the centaurs coming to the clearing, whence they apprehended us when we had both returned there. The sentry who witnessed both our appearances there noticed that within moments of my arrival, the weather started to change. All of this just confirmed the Darcinian rebels' long-held belief that my love for you would cause the return of spring."

"I admit, Mr. Darcy, to have been curious as to how our presence was known so that we could be... abducted and brought here, but I fail to see how this is information that is so vitally important that it could not be left until the morning."

"Because it relates to another issue. You see, the general belief here is that you and I... well, we are expected to marry before we leave the country."

Lizzy regarded him in stunned silence.

"You see, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy continued, "the Darcinians believe that in order for their climate to be stabilized, I must marry you."

"But why?" Lizzy cried.

"I do not entirely understand, since I do not understand why they think that I, or Miss Bingley, could have any effect on the weather at all. Even if it is true that for some reason my arrival caused the return of spring, I do not see what marriage has to do with it. But the Darcinians have their own beliefs, and it seems that it has something to do with the notion - common in our world as well - that marriage makes a man more steady."

"You already seem very steady to me, Mr. Darcy! Or, at least, you did until today! Oh, why did you allow the Darcinians to persist in their belief that you love me? Why did you not disabuse them of that notion at once?"

"Miss Bennet, we are relying on these beings for help. I was forced to tell them that we will not attack Miss Bingley, and that we will not stay on as rulers of their country. Though under normal circumstances disguise of any sort is my abhorrence, I felt that it would be harmless to allow them to continue to believe that there existed between us a greater state of affection than is actually the case. I feared their reactions if I outright refuted a major tenet of their beliefs, since it is their beliefs that make them willing to help us in the first place. They know that we will be leaving with Miss Bingley, and they have accepted that, even thought they would rather that we stay here as... king and queen, but they expect us to marry before we go."

"Mr. Darcy, I sympathize with the Darcinians' plight over their unstable climate, but I cannot, I will not marry you in order to improve it!"

"Miss Bennet, surely you are not suggesting that you believe I mean for us to acquiesce in this matter? I... have no wish to marry you, either." Mr. Darcy flushed a deep red as he made this statement, and noticed that Lizzy's eyes flashed in anger as he said it; he also noticed how becoming such a light was in her fine eyes. "That... that is to say, I realize that... we hardly know each other... a gentleman in my position, and a lady in your position could never... I mean, the disparity in our circumstances..." Mr. Darcy could see that Lizzy was only growing angrier with every word he spoke. "Suffice to say, Miss Bennet, that I am only informing you of the general expectation amongst the... group here, because I believe you should be forewarned of said expectations. I am confident that once we find Miss Bingley, we will be able to depart this land without entering into a union that I know neither of us is prepared to enter at this time."

Lizzy's anger was replaced with a look of confusion for a moment upon hearing Mr. Darcy's last words, 'at this time', but her anger took over once again.

"This is what comes of you allowing the Darcinians to persist in believing that you love me! You should have told them at once that you do not."

"If you feel so strongly about it, why did you not inform them yourself?"

"It is not my place to speak of your feelings," Lizzy sniffed indignantly, although she did wonder for a moment why she had also allowed the Darcinians to persist in their delusion.

"No? You do not seem to have any compunction about speaking of them to me - you seem to consider yourself quite the expert on the subject, in fact, although I am certain that before this evening I have never had occasion to speak to you about them. I wonder that you can feel so confident in your assessment of the way I feel."

"I think everyone in Meryton would feel confident in asserting that you do not like me, or any other inhabitant of the neighborhood. Despite your earlier claims, your arrogant, disdainful, conceited manner has made your displeasure quite plain at every opportunity since you arrived amongst our Meryton society."

Darcy was stunned, appalled, and a little hurt. Did she, and everyone, truly think so ill of him? Could they not tell that he was simply uncomfortable with large crowds of strangers? Certainly, the company in Hertfordshire was not to his taste, but he did not think he had been so disdainful in general; he merely had no wish to be in company lately - he had accompanied Bingley's party to Netherfield in a quest for solitude and reflection after the unsettling events of the summer - he had not expected that he would have to make himself agreeable to the populace when he was doing all in his power to escape the social obligations he would have been forced to endure if he had stayed in town amongst his own acquaintance. And now he was condemned because he did not make friends easily with the rustics of a country neighborhood? Darcy heaved a weary sigh.

"Would you like to know my real feelings, Miss Bennet?" Darcy took Lizzy's wide-eyed silence as sufficient encouragement to continue. "I am very tired. I am overwhelmed by the situation in which we find ourselves. I am relieved that I found you, and that I need not be concerned for your safety, as I would if I thought you were wandering alone in this place at night. I am apprehensive about tomorrow. I am sorry to find that I have repeatedly offended you and all of your neighbors. I am weary of arguing with you, and would wish that we could put our differences aside and be allies, and even more I wish that you would trust that I have a care for your welfare and would not do, or allow anyone else to do, anything to harm you. I am amazed, alarmed and, to be completely truthful, a little bit amused by Miss Bingley's delusional plottings. And whether you believe me or not, I feel a regard and respect for you, which has increased immensely at seeing how you have handled yourself today in these trying and bewildering circumstances. And in the same vein, I am disappointed to discover that you have such a profound dislike for me, though I hope that perhaps recent events and disclosures have lessened such feelings, and that, given time, I may be able to do away with them entirely and cause you to hold me in as high esteem as I hold you. Those are my true feelings, Miss Bennet, and I am sorry if my reticence to discuss them with our hosts has caused you any discomfort."

Lizzy had no notion of what would be the proper response to such a speech. She nodded, swallowed nervously, and replied in a strangled voice, "Well then. Have we anything further we must discuss tonight?"

"No, Miss Bennet, I do not believe that there is anything left to say."

Lizzy stood up and walked over to Mr. Darcy, offering him her hand in a gesture of truce. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for everything you have done. I am very glad that we managed to find each other today. I do not think I could have faced all of this alone."

Lizzy expected Mr. Darcy to merely shake her hand, but he surprised her by raising it to his lips and kissing it without another word. Then he went to the door of the tent and signaled to the waiting fairies that their presence was required.
The fairies flew into the tent with alacrity, eager to do their bidding. Mr. Darcy requested that he and Lizzy be shown to their quarters for the night, and they were each grasped by the hands by two fairies, who proceeded to tug them each towards the smaller rooms formed by screens and partitions in the tent. Both simultaneously glancing back over their shoulders and realizing at once that they were to be accommodated within that same tent, Lizzy and Darcy each felt a moment of panic. Lizzy withdrew her hands from the fairies' grasp and strode purposefully towards Mr. Darcy who, having escaped the grasp of his own escort, met her halfway.

"Mr. Darcy, we cannot sleep in the same tent! It would not be proper!" Lizzy hissed in a fierce whisper.

Mr. Darcy looked around at the hovering fairies, and at their surroundings before answering, hesitantly, "It would not be proper in our world, Miss Bennet, but it is apparently acceptable here, and as no one from our world need ever know, I suggest that we say nothing about it, and merely accept the accommodations offered. In truth, I would feel more comfortable having you nearby in case anything should happen in the night - it would be easier for me to protect you if you are close by."

"Mr. Darcy, really, you take too much upon yourself!"

"No indeed, Miss Bennet. I feel responsible for your perilous position here; after all, it is because of me that Miss Bingley has hatched all of these ridiculous schemes. The fault is mine, and so must the remedy be, and so I am sworn to protect you until we are safely returned to Netherfield."

"And do you think I will be safe from Miss Bingley's evil plots then?" Lizzy replied dryly.

"Please, Miss Bennet, it would set my mind at ease to have you near. I can assure you, you are in no danger from me, if that is what concerns you."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow at him. "Would you want your sister to be housed in a similar circumstance - sleeping in the same tent with a gentleman?"

"If the gentleman was me, I would consider her to be quite safe - as you will be, Miss Bennet."

All at once overwhelmed by weariness, not the least from the contention of her recent debates with Mr. Darcy, Lizzy felt compelled to give in - she had no fight left in her and wanted nothing more than to sleep. Truly, she did not fear anything improper from Mr. Darcy, and as long as no one in her own world ever found out (which could lead to a forced wedding on that side of the wardrobe door), Lizzy really did feel safer knowing that Mr. Darcy was near.

"Very well, then. Goodnight, Mr. Darcy."

"Goodnight, Miss Bennet." Mr. Darcy took Lizzy's hand in both of his as he said this, and, unable to meet the intensity of his gaze for long, Lizzy dropped her eyes to their clasped hands and nearly gasped when she noticed that the scratch that had marred the back of Mr. Darcy's hand was completely healed.

Without another word, Lizzy and Mr. Darcy allowed themselves to be led to their private chambers within the tent for the night.

Caroline Bingley had finished her unsatisfying dinner - apparently the more skilled members of the kitchen staff had been among the earliest defectors - and was nearly finished haranguing poor Derbyshire before retiring for the night. There was truly nothing he could have done to stop the exodus of the palace staff, and nothing he could do to remedy the situation, but Caroline was angry and it was her habit to take out her anger on him. He had a most pleasing manner of cowering, and berating him was usually enough to improve Caroline's mood when she felt cross. It was not helping at present, but there was nothing else to be done, and Caroline had a very great need to take out her frustrations on someone, and in the absence of a certain Eliza Bennet, who had caused all of Caroline Bingley's problems from the day she had arrived in Hertfordshire, Derbyshire would simply have to take the brunt of the queen's anger.

"...and I suppose you are now going to tell me that Moira still cannot be found?"

The queen had not required any response at all up until this point in her harangue, and Derbyshire almost missed his cue to respond. "No, your majesty, she seems to have completely disappeared," he said, on the verge of tears.
Caroline glared down at her unfortunate minion until he was almost certain that he would faint from the heat of her eyes.

"Very well, then. For your sake I hope she has returned by morning. Have me wakened at first light," she finally said, turning away.

Derbyshire's gasp arrested her movement, but she did not turn around again as he asked, "First light, your majesty?"

Caroline paused a moment. "Fine. Wake me at ten," she amended, waving him out of her presence, and stalking off to bed.

Chapter Eight

Neither of the two humans in the vast encampment found sleep easily that night. Though they were provided with beds that were nothing more than padded mats laid on the ground, and they each lacked proper sleeping attire and therefore lay down to sleep in their undergarments, their sleeplessness had nothing to do with a lack of physical comfort. Indeed, their beds were quite luxuriously comfortable; Lizzy had never even imagined she would find herself swathed in silk sheets. Nor was it merely the strangeness of the place that kept them from slumber - in fact, shortly after they had each retired, somewhere in the camp exotic, entrancing music began to play; flutes and stringed instruments, and the sweetest of voices combined to produce an intoxicating melody that should have eased each of the weary humans to sleep as it did most of the other beings who heard it.

No, it was the workings of their own minds that kept Lizzy and Mr. Darcy wakeful well into the Darcinian night, and in spite of the myriad worries and concerns that could have occupied either of them, neither one's thoughts strayed far from the person each imagined to be slumbering on the opposite side of the great tent.

Mr. Darcy's musings were of an uncomplicated nature, though why he should even be pondering such a subject he knew not; he was engaged in enumerating to himself the reasons why a marriage between himself and Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be impossible. Leaving aside the lady's recently disclosed dislike of him (which he arrogantly assumed he could change, if he truly wished it), Mr. Darcy considered everything from her ridiculous family to her lack of fortune. He imagined the horrified reactions of his friends and relations. He practically shuddered at the thought of Mrs. Bennet visiting Pemberley, her relations in trade in tow. He thought about the negative influence that Miss Lydia and Miss Catherine (ugh - Kitty! - what a ridiculous name!) would have on dear, sweet, timid Georgiana. Such an alliance would be deplorable; it did not bear thinking about. And why should he think about it? Miss Elizabeth Bennet was nothing to him. Still, for some reason, new images began to form in Mr. Darcy's mind, images of Lizzy smiling at him across the breakfast table at Pemberley, images of her eyes meeting his as she played his favorite songs on the pianoforte in Pemberley's music room, images of her glorious dark hair spilled across the pillows of his bed as she slept, images of lovely Elizabeth holding a tiny baby with dark hair and fine eyes... perhaps a girl named Anne, after his mother... or a boy, named Bennet, following his family's tradition of the eldest son being given his mother's family name.

Darcy rolled over onto his stomach, buried his face in his pillow and groaned. 'Stop it, man! Useless, pointless, ridiculous speculation! You do not WANT to marry Elizabeth... Miss Bennet... Lizzy - that is what her family call her... the people who love her... the people she loves... but not YOU... she does not love you... and you do not love her, and her fine, sparkling eyes, and her fine sparkling wit, and her adventuresome spirit, not afraid to walk alone three miles in the mud... not a silly, delicate, helpless creature of the ton, but intelligent, independent, strong... strong legs for walking... I wonder what her legs look like... STOP! She is not for you, Darcy... pull yourself together... this morning you thought nothing more of her than that she was pretty, and witty, and... and nothing! Where is all this coming from? Thoughts of marriage? You do not love her... you do not love her... you do not love her...'

Lizzy would have been shocked, and perhaps even alarmed, if she had been aware of the train of Mr. Darcy's thoughts, but that his mind should be so occupied would never have occurred to her. The train of Mr. Darcy's thoughts, however, was exactly the subject which kept Lizzy tossing and turning in her silk sheets. Mr. Darcy had always seemed a reserved, taciturn man, difficult to fathom, but as loquacious as he had suddenly become, he was even more bewildering than before. Lizzy simply did not know what to make of the change, and she did not know what to believe any more. Why was Mr. Darcy suddenly being so nice, so kind, so... affectionate, almost? Lizzy considered that perhaps there was something about the place, Darcinia, that was affecting him, but if that was so, why was she not also behaving peculiarly? Was she not her usual self? She did not feel any different, but perhaps Mr. Darcy was not aware that he was behaving oddly, either. Lizzy did not know which was the real Mr. Darcy - the one she first met at the assembly in Meryton, or the one who danced with her at the banquet - the one who told her he did find her tempting? Lizzy felt herself blushing in the darkness. Could this new Mr. Darcy be trusted? Lizzy's instincts told her yes - his manners she may have questioned before, but never his honor. He was a respectable man, if an unlikable one.

'But he is not so unlikable now. He is kind and solicitous. He is a fine dancer, and so very handsome... stop it, Lizzy, this is Mr. Darcy you are thinking of! No matter what he may say about you now - and good gracious, in all our acquaintance, I have never heard the man talk so much! - his manners in the past, in the real world, must be the real man. He would never even consider someone of your social standing... wait - what are you thinking? Why would you care what Mr. Darcy thinks? He is rude, and arrogant, and conceited, and handsome, and intelligent... NO! He is unpleasant! He is insufferable! He is sleeping at the other end of this tent! Why did you let yourself be convinced that this was a good idea? Why did you even agree to play Caroline's stupid game? You should have stayed in Jane's room, you should have stayed away from Caroline Bingley, and you should most definitely have stayed away from Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy! He looks like a Fitzwilliam - such a pretentious name... I wonder if he would want to name his oldest son after himself... WHY SHOULD YOU CARE? Stop thinking about Mr. Darcy! Think about something else! I cannot believe I never noticed the color of his eyes before now... I have never seen eyes so blue... why does he stare at me all the time, anyway? And the way he looked in the forest clearing, soaking wet, his shirt clinging to his body... STOP THINKING ABOUT MR. DARCY!'

Lizzy rolled onto her stomach, buried her face in her pillow and groaned.

Caroline Bingley pounded her fists into her pillow, buried her face in it, and screamed. 'I hate that stupid Eliza Bennet!'

Her angry cries were drowned out by the sounds of the violent storm that raged around the palace, though of a certain no one would have heard them even if the night had been still and silent.

Pemberley the faun did not even try to sleep in his dismal cell, guarded by two of the queen's few remaining loyal followers. To sleep would be impossible, even could he make himself comfortable on the dank, cold stone floor. No, Pemberley settled for waking dreams, dreams of a tall, strong man with dark hair and a fierce glare banishing the queen from Darcinia and installing the lovely, amiable Elizabeth Bennet in her place... after first rescuing a poor, lonely faun from the dungeons, of course.

Derbyshire the faun slunk out of the palace under cover of darkness and a heavy, cold rain. Habitual attendance to his duty had impelled him to ensure that the queen would be awakened and attended to at the requested hour of the morning, but a sense of self-preservation had finally activated itself in his brain, and in the interest of living to see the liberation of his country from the witch, Derbyshire decided that his many years of service to her majesty must come to an end. He knew there were those who opposed the queen, and in the interest of his country, and even more importantly, with the hope that aiding the rebels would prevent the terrible fate awaiting poor Pemberley, Derbyshire decided he would throw in his lot with those he now realized were the true Darcinians. He could not hope to find the rebels - the Cult of Eliza, as he knew they called themselves - in the dark, but he could at least put as much distance as possible between himself and the palace before ten the next morning, and hope that the queen would either have too much to do when she awoke, or not enough followers left to do it, and would not be able to waste a thought on having one insignificant faun hunted down and fed to The Beast.

Fitzwilliam the centaur slept soundly, the sleep of one at peace, one who has only pleasant dreams, with only happy days to look forward to, once all cares have melted away like the snows of winter.

The keen-eyed sphinx named Moira had much to think about before she went to sleep, but eventually, and well before either Lizzy or Mr. Darcy found slumber, she curled her wings about her body, and, with a contented purr rumbling deep in her chest, drifted off to sleep with a knowing, satisfied smile on her face.

Posted on: 2009-06-06

Chapter Nine

Lizzy and Mr. Darcy woke to a glorious spring morning, both of them perfectly refreshed and optimistic about the new day - a consequence, though neither knew it, of laying their heads to rest on fairy-made pillows. No matter how short the period of repose, none who sleep on pillows made by fairy hands can wake other than perfectly rested and content to face the day. That both Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were surprised to feel so well after a night spent by each largely tossing and turning from the turmoil of their minds, can not be doubted, but each rose in a cheerful mood and pleasantly accepted greetings from Darcinians eager and honored to assist them in their preparations for their trek.

Hot water was provided for washing, and their clothes had been cleaned of the evidence of the previous day's adventures. Lizzy was pleased to have her own dress returned to her, and was surprised and more than a little amused to be presented with a pair of boots to wear, made perfectly to her size, but identical to the boots that gentlemen - specifically, Mr. Darcy - wore. Lizzy questioned the fairies who attended her and they told her that on the previous evening, Mr. Darcy had requested of Fitzwilliam that some more sturdy footwear by procured for Miss Bennet, as they would have quite a long trek to the palace, and he did not feel that her indoor slippers, which she had been wearing when she stepped into the wardrobe, would be adequate to the task. So, using her dainty slippers to ascertain the size of her foot, the elven shoemakers had worked into the night to provide her with the sturdy boots, and since none of the Darcinians wore such footwear (most of them, in truth, had hooves or paws, and so wore no shoes at all), Mr. Darcy's masculine boots were used as a model. Though she was amused, Lizzy was in fact quite pleased with her new boots, even if she felt bad for the elves who had lost sleep in order to provide them for her; the fairies reassured her that the elves were accustomed to nocturnal labors, and that they were honored to have had the opportunity to serve her in such a way. Lizzy was also impressed to see that her slippers had been cleaned of all the mud, and now looked quite new; she had quite given them up as ruined. The fairies gave her a drawstring bag, like a large reticule, into which she placed her slippers, along with the potion bottle she had received as a gift.

The fairies were eager to be allowed to dress Lizzy's hair, and though she would have been content to simply braid it and pin it up, their earnest pleas, combined with her congenial mood and her usual good nature, worked to convince her to let them have their way. Fairies style hair with the same level of skill (and perhaps, a bit of magic) with which they make pillows, and Lizzy was so amazed at the resulting pile of delicately beautiful curls, interwoven with flowers, that she was momentarily speechless when they finally gave her a small mirror to see the result. She was pleased with the result indeed, and could not wait for Jane to see her looking so elegant for a change. The thought of Jane at that moment filled Lizzy with a feeling of contentment rather than worry; she was happy that she would soon be home.

Lizzy was not the only one enchanted by her fairy hairstyle; when Lizzy emerged from behind the partitions that formed her bedchamber, and Mr. Darcy caught his first glimpse of her, smiling, with cheeks prettily aglow, he was speechless as well - his breath was positively taken away. His thoughts of Lizzy had not subsided when sleep overtook him, and the dreams he had of her seemed almost come to life when he was presented with such a vision of her as he drank his morning coffee. He regretted for an instant that they would be returning to Netherfield that day, and not staying in Darcinia and carrying out the wishes of the Darcinians, but he knew that such a thing would be impossible, even if they could stay for years without anyone knowing that they were gone, just as Miss Bingley had, apparently.

"Good morning, Mr. Darcy," Lizzy said as she curtseyed.

"Good morning, Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy breathlessly replied. "I hope you slept well."

"I did, thank you. And yourself?" Lizzy said as she approached the table that had been brought to their tent for breakfast. A faun rapidly appeared to pull out her chair for her. Miss Bingley had trained her subjects well in etiquette.

"Yes, I did, Miss Bennet."

"Thank you for procuring these boots for me, Mr. Darcy," Lizzy held out her foot and allowed the hem of her dress to raise a tiny bit for him to glimpse her new footwear. Years of training in propriety and the confusion of his thoughts from the previous night warred within him and forced him to concentrate on his coffee so that he would not think too much about the legs encased in those boots. "The elves made them for me, just like yours." Lizzy's eyes twinkled with humor, causing Mr. Darcy to take a large gulp of his hot beverage and scald his throat.

When he had finished sputtering and could face Lizzy's concerned gaze, he said, "I am afraid that they were the best I could do for you, Miss Bennet, and I felt that you would need something with more support than the shoes you wore here." To his own chagrin, he recalled the moment from the previous afternoon when he had knelt before her to help her put on the shoe that he had plucked from the mud when she had been carried off by the centaur. With an effort, he forced his mind back to the present, and the imminent future. "I fear we shall have several miles to walk today, although I do not for a moment doubt your abilities in such a venture - now that you are supplied with appropriate footwear." He offered her a smile, and his heart did a sort of flip when she returned it with interest.

"I thank you as well for your consideration then, sir. When do we depart?"

"I have seen Fitzwilliam this morning, and as soon as we have breakfasted, a contingent of... erm... cultists will accompany us on our way. You are anxious to be gone?"

Lizzy was surprised to find that she was, in fact, not so anxious all of a sudden to be leaving Darcinia, but thoughts of Jane recalled her to reason. "Of course, I am concerned for my sister, Mr. Darcy. I hope you are right, that she has not yet noticed my absence and has had no cause to worry for me as I have worried for her, but I will still feel more comfortable when I am back with Jane and can see for myself. And surely you must be anxious to be gone yourself?"

Darcy empathized with her concern for her sister - he had felt the same many a time - and he was pleased to note that such sisterly affection was yet another admirable trait in her character. He forced himself not to dwell on the many attractive things he was beginning to notice about her.

"I do not think anxious is really the word, Miss Bennet. So then, we can depart as soon as you are ready."

Lizzy smiled mischievously and took several apples from a basket on the table, packing them in the bag containing her shoes and potion bottle. Then she wrapped a few muffins in her napkin and placed them in her bag as well. Finally, she hastily drank the rest of her tea, which fortunately was not as hot as Mr. Darcy's coffee, rose to her feet, and indicated to the bemused Mr. Darcy that she was ready to go home.

Mr. Darcy rose wordlessly and offered Lizzy his arm as they walked out of the tent. Their escort was assembled outside in the pale dawn light, consisting mostly of centaurs, who had bows and quivers full of arrows slung across their backs, a few fauns and satyrs, two fairies, several of the creatures that Lizzy had since learned were indeed dryads, and who were lingering among the trees at the edge of the clearing, and the inscrutable sphinx who had so continuously observed Lizzy on the previous evening.

A brief but earnest discussion ensued between Mr. Darcy and Fitzwilliam the centaur over the fact that the centaurs had agreed among themselves that Eliza Bennet and The Great Darcy would be honored with the opportunity - never before bestowed on any being - of riding upon their backs to the queen's castle. Mr. Darcy steadfastly declined the honor on both his own account and Lizzy's, which displeased Fitzwilliam greatly. As in most of their other disagreements, however, Fitzwilliam finally gave way to Mr. Darcy, but not until Lizzy herself voiced her disinclination to ride, assuring them that though she was conscious of the very great honor they offered her, she would much rather walk. Lizzy fervently hoped that his frequent capitulations were not eroding poor Fitzwilliam's authority in the eyes of his followers, as she suspected that once she and Mr. Darcy had managed to leave Darcinia with Miss Bingley, Fitzwilliam was likely to become an important figure in whatever form of government replaced the despotic queen.

Mr. Darcy had one last question for Fitzwilliam before they all set out - he wanted to know if Miss Bingley's presence at the palace was confirmed. Fitzwilliam replied by pointing to a portion of the sky several miles away over the forest, where Lizzy and Darcy were surprised to see dark, roiling clouds that were incongruous with the beautiful, bright spring weather that prevailed around them.

"She is there, but as a precaution, sentries remain in place in the grove where we believe the entrance to your world to be," Fitzwilliam said grimly, and at Mr. Darcy's acknowledging nod, the entire troop set off towards the storm in the distance.

At the outset, Lizzy and Mr. Darcy walked side by side in a companionable manner. Mr. Darcy would have liked to offer Lizzy his arm, but he contented himself with periodically supporting her elbow or allowing her to steady herself by grasping his arm or hand as occasional rough, rocky portions of the terrain made their footing unstable.

Lizzy and Mr. Darcy talked of commonplace subjects as they walked - music, Hertfordshire, Derbyshire, places he had traveled, places she would like to travel to, books - a topic that surprised Lizzy in that she had not expected that they would have read so many of the same books, and with such similar feelings - and Lizzy was amazed to find Mr. Darcy an amiable companion. They did not speak much to their guardians, and the tension among the rest of the group was palpable, which encouraged taciturnity. The atmosphere between them all warmed though, as the sun rose higher and the glorious day, still a refreshing novelty to the Darcinians after the endless snows, began to lighten each one's heart. By the time half of the journey had been achieved, the Darcinians were once again returned to their celebratory mood of the previous evening, and even Mr. Darcy was seen to smile at some of the jests and antics bandied about.

A halt was called as they reached a wide stream, and the Darcinians all took the opportunity to refresh themselves in the water. Lizzy sat on a rock on the bank, partaking of the food she had stowed away for her breakfast, and wearing a wistful expression that Mr. Darcy noticed and correctly interpreted. He approached her and addressed her in a low, conspiratorial tone.

"Miss Bennet, I realize that in our society it would be highly improper for a lady such as yourself to remove her boots and stockings and wade in a stream in mixed company, in fact, it would be improper for a gentleman like me as well. However, you and I are the only ones here who are aware of such restrictions, and I am certain that you, excellent walker though you, must have feet as sore and weary as mine are at the moment, if you will forgive my mentioning such a thing. Therefore, I propose that we agree between us, simply for the sake of ensuring our comfort in continuing on this long walk, that we shall ignore such restrictions just this once and avail ourselves of the refreshment of wading in this stream. We shall never mention it to anyone once we have returned to Netherfield, and I venture to promise you that I will even avert my gaze for the entire time that you choose to enjoy yourself in such a manner, in order to preserve your feminine modesty."

Lizzy could not help a small laugh at his suggestion, and she even blushed a little at the thought of such an impropriety, but Mr. Darcy had read her thoughts correctly, she dearly wished to be able to rest her tired feet in the cool water, so she offered him her hand to seal their accord with a handshake. "Shall I avert my eyes as well, Mr. Darcy?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"If you please, Miss Bennet," he replied just as archly, and he then retreated some distance away to afford them each the privacy they had promised one another.

I regret to inform you, dear Reader, that one of them failed to honor the promise, though both took great relief in the exercise.

Caroline did not arise at first light, but to her chagrin, it was not more than an hour after sunrise when she was finally compelled to rise from her bed, despairing of any further sleep. Sadly for her, she had never heard of the benefits of sleeping on a fairy pillow, and no fairy had ever liked her enough to give her one. The storm that had been raging around the palace all night continued unabated, and made the morning dark and gloomy, which, considering that for the entire duration of her reign over Darcinia the weather had consisted of a steady stream of snowstorms, was not so unusual, but this storm was violent and the sky over the palace was as black and turbulent as Caroline's mood.

As if a short and troubled night's sleep, plagued by dreams of Eliza Bennet with a wedding veil perched on her dark curls, laughing as she skipped down the aisle of a church on Mr. Darcy's arm, was not enough to frustrate her, Caroline discovered upon ringing the bell for hot water that her entire palace staff had absconded in the night. Not even Derbyshire remained to serve her. The process of dressing herself was lengthy, not only because of the awkwardness of trying to dress oneself in the latest fashions without a lady's maid to fasten hooks and ties and whatnot behind one's back, but because she was forced to take frequent pauses to throw things, smash things, and rend things in a futile attempt to release some of her anger at her faithless followers, the absent Moira, whose council she desperately needed at this trying hour, Mr. Darcy's ridiculous infatuation with a country nobody that had led her to such a pass, and most of all, the country nobody herself: Eliza Bennet.

Caroline accepted the vacant palace kitchens with a sense of resignation as she scrounged for something to eat, though the bread and water with which she broke her fast (she did not know how to boil water to make her own tea, much less how to brew coffee) did nothing to improve her humors. She was surprised that there was nothing else in the larder, but when the kitchen staff fled, they took everything else with them, feeling that the soon-to-be-deposed queen did not deserve such luxuries as usually graced her table, and that those delicacies should be saved for the Darcinian citizens who produced them - to be specific, themselves. Caroline's spirits rose to hopefulness, however, when she reached the throne room and discovered that she did, indeed, still have some loyal subjects willing to serve her, and they were of exactly the sort most calculated to insure that her plans would still be able to succeed.

Not everyone, or, in the case of Queen Caroline's minions, everything, is romantic. Not everyone views love and marriage sentimentally. Some beings are ruled by baser instincts - greed, ambition, and in the case of Caroline's remaining supporters, just plain cruelty.

Caroline addressed her small army with hope in her cold heart, and an evil glint in her eye.

"Go and find them. Bring The Darcy here to me. Take Eliza Bennet to the Beast."

With a thunderous roar of fluttering wings to rival the raging storm outside, Caroline's henchmen took flight.

Chapter Ten

When the band of travelers once again took to their route, Fitzwilliam claimed Mr. Darcy's attention and Lizzy walked on alone for a while until she became aware, by a feeling rather than sight, that she was closely followed, and even more closely watched. She looked over her shoulder to see that the sphinx was close behind her, observing her as intently as she had done all through the previous evening's festivities. Lizzy decided that it was time to address this insolence.

"Have you something particular to say to me, or is there something so fascinating in my appearance that you cannot tear your gaze away?" she asked the sphinx.

"You are very frank, Miss Bennet," was all the reply she received.

"Indeed, I am celebrated for it," Lizzy dryly responded. "I am afraid that you have me at a disadvantage." She had at many times in her life felt constrained by the strictness of certain social niceties, and had been a willing conspirator with Mr. Darcy over the last day in breaking a few rules she would never have broken at home, but she was beginning to feel that not all social conventions were so irksome as she had always believed. The traditions involving proper introductions now seemed quite useful. She did not like at all that this creature treated her with such familiarity when Lizzy did not even know her name. Even though she had often caught Mr. Darcy staring at her over the weeks of their acquaintance, Lizzy found that it was something that one does not become accustomed to, and she found it most irritating.

"Yes, I suppose that is true, Miss Bennet, but that is to be expected. Everyone here knows, or at least, thinks they know, all about you," the sphinx said with an expression that was a mixture of smugness and amusement. "Do not mind my rudeness. When you get to be as old as I am, you start to feel that there is no point in wasting time on mindless civilities."

Lizzy looked at the sphinx, but did not reply. Her age was a point difficult to fix, but she certainly did not look old enough to be claiming age as an excuse for ignoring rules of propriety in a manner eerily similar to the way Lizzy remembered her grandmother doing before she passed away. Her grandmother was forever going on about being able to do, wear, think, and say as she pleased because she was old. But this sphinx showed no marks of age, and if she had been pressed to guess, Lizzy would have said, though without much conviction, that she was in her thirties. She was not handsome by any means, although her features were not unattractive - just, perhaps, a little too coarse and masculine looking to be considered pretty - by human standards, at least. She was obviously female, though, as certain human aspects of her mostly feline form attested, in addition to her peculiar apparel - she wore a dress somewhat like one that Lizzy had actually seen on Miss Bingley once. The muscles that Lizzy could see in the feline limbs looked powerful, and she suspected that the paws which padded along silently beside her hid deadly claws. The sphinx's most arresting feature was most definitely the wings folded against her back - long, white, shimmering, iridescent feathers that rustled ever so slightly as she walked.

"I see you are too polite to inquire about my age, in spite of my own poor manners, Miss Bennet. Very well, I will tell you then - I am seven hundred forty-eight years old."

Lizzy raised an eyebrow at the sphinx. "And yet, you do not look a day over six hundred," she said.

The sphinx laughed heartily at this response, an unsettling, screeching sound. Lizzy noticed that Mr. Darcy turned around and looked back with curiosity and discomfort. "You are very witty, Miss Bennet, and lively as well, I see. It is no wonder Miss Bingley does not like you."

"Indeed, for those are certainly abhorrent characteristics," was Lizzy's only reply.

The sphinx laughed again, more of a raspy chuckle that sounded almost like a purr. "I can see that I will have difficulty in drawing you out. Perhaps I should start by introducing myself. I am Moira."

"I am pleased to meet you," Lizzy said, pausing to make a small curtsey before she continued walking. "May I inquire how it is that you are the only Darcinian I have met who has a name that is not in some way related to either Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy, or myself - or does Miss Bingley have an Aunt Moira about whom I have not heard?"

"I thought perhaps you might have some questions you wished to have answered, Miss Bennet but that is not one I expected," Moira said with amusement.

"And why would you think I would have questions for you?" Lizzy was puzzled that Moira would think that she would seek her out for answers to all that perplexed her about recent events.

"Ah, I suppose that no one has told you that I am the official historian of Darcinia," Moira nodded sagely.

"Well of course you are - you have experienced it all firsthand," Lizzy said with a smirk, causing Moira to laugh aloud again.

"I like you Miss Bennet, I really do. And I will answer your question - it is a simple matter - I have had this name for much longer than Miss Bingley has been queen, and though she has decreed that all Darcinians must be given names from an approved list, I simply refused to change mine. So, is there anything else you would like to know?"

Lizzy thought for a moment. "As we are only recently acquainted, I think it would be most proper for us to talk about the weather."

Moira laughed again, which, though it was a most disturbing sound, gave Lizzy the impression that Moira must be a most lighthearted being. "By which I suppose you mean that you are wondering if it is true that Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy have an effect on the climate here?"

"Yes, and more to the point, is it really necessary for Mr. Darcy and me to get married to stabilize the weather?"

"You may rest easy Miss Bennet - it is not necessary, and I will make certain that Fitzwilliam and the rest understand that before they try to force you into anything. What is required, however, is for Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley to leave Darcinia together, because they do really have an effect on our climate."

"Why?"

"That is a difficult question to answer, Miss Bennet. I suppose it would surprise you to hear that the three of you are not the first humans to come to Darcinia?"

"No, at least, not any more than it surprises me that I am here myself."

Moira laughed again. "Well, over the centuries there have been several times when humans have stumbled into our world -"

"Did they come the same way we did?" Lizzy interrupted her.

"Yes, through the exact same wardrobe. Some of them have affected our weather, and some have not. But those who have, have all had something in common - they all had feelings, emotions that they tried to hide. For some reason, these repressed feelings change our climate, and whether the change is pleasant, as in Mr. Darcy's case, or unpleasant, as in Miss Bingley's, depends on whether the suppressed emotions are positive or negative."

"What emotions are Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy hiding?" Lizzy was not sure if she accepted this preposterous notion.

"Miss Bingley is hiding feelings of greed and jealousy -"

"No, she is not," Lizzy interrupted again. "Her avaricious interest in Mr. Darcy is quite evident, as is her jealousy towards me, however misguided it is."

"Those feelings may be obvious to you, Miss Bennet, but Miss Bingley thinks she has kept them private from the world, and does not even admit them to herself."

"Very well then," Lizzy continued, not convinced, "What are the deep seated emotions Mr. Darcy keeps hidden within his heart? You said they were positive emotions?"

"Mr. Darcy hides his affections, Miss Bennet."

"He hides them very well. I do not imagine that anyone in my world would suspect that he has any, apart from his affection for his sister, which Miss Bingley finds so admirable."

"He has them, I can assure you, and he hides the true warmth of his nature."

"If you say so. And you say that this affects the weather here? So, I do not affect the weather because..."

"You do not hide your feelings, Miss Bennet."

"No, I suppose I do not. So, have all of the humans who have come here become despotic rulers of your country?"

Again the sphinx laughed. "Ah, there is that celebrated frankness again! No, although it has happened a few times. Miss Bingley is not the first to come here with feelings of greed and delusions of grandeur. But you see, it is not only the case that people from your world have an affect on Darcinia. Darcinia affects those who come here from your world as well."

"How so?"

"It intensifies any emotions they feel, and relaxes some of the inhibitions that might keep those emotions bottled up inside. For instance, Miss Bingley, in her own sphere, merely craves an ambitious marriage. When she is here, she feels the need to be ruler of all the land, a tyrannical monarch over all she surveys. Plus, she feels an overwhelming sense of rage and hatred towards you."

"She does not by any chance acquire any supernatural abilities when she is here, does she?

Moira chuckled. "No. Only her emotions are affected."

"But Darcinia does not have this affect on all humans."

"Yes, all of them."

"I think not, because if it affected me in that way, I would be feeling intense hatred towards Mr. Darcy," Lizzy said, after first checking to be sure that that gentleman was out of earshot.

"Are you saying you hate Mr. Darcy?"

Lizzy paused before answering. "Hate is a very harsh word. I would say that it is more of an extreme dislike."

"I think you are wrong."

Lizzy was stunned by such a response. "I beg your pardon?"

"You obviously do not dislike Mr. Darcy."

"So you are saying that I like Mr. Darcy without my own knowledge of it?" Lizzy hissed in a fierce whisper.

"No, I think you are probably torn between indifference and fascination with him. You may be offended by some aspects of his character, but I think you are puzzled by him, and do not understand him; he is, I think, not like anyone you have ever known and your natural curiosity leads you to want to try to interpret his behavior, to... study his character. You must appreciate its intricacy, I think. And I would venture a guess that you actually find him rather amusing, and how can you truly dislike someone who amuses you so?" Moira herself seemed most amused at the notion, and laughed.

"Ridiculous," Lizzy dismissed the idea before she could admit to herself the possible validity of it. "I will grant you the indifference, perhaps, and the amusement, but I am not fascinated by Mr. Darcy. And I do not think that being in Darcinia has intensified the feelings of Mr. Darcy, either. While I concede that he has been acting strangely since we met up here yesterday, the feelings that I know him to have, namely pride and arrogance, actually seem to have abated."

"Then perhaps you have misinterpreted his feelings all along in your world."

"He implied as much last night, but if I have, then so has everyone else in Meryton. His arrogance would be attested to by everyone in the neighborhood who has met him."

"So, everyone has misinterpreted him. There are other emotions that could seem like arrogance. Shyness, for example."

"Humph." Lizzy felt a sudden desire to curtail any discussion of Mr. Darcy's emotional state, either in Hertfordshire or Darcinia. She did not even want to think about the possible feelings that could explain Mr. Darcy's recent behavior towards herself. As for herself, she was certain that the only emotions she had felt to be heightened since she had arrived in Darcinia were confusion and amazement.

"I should mention also, that this intensifying effect does not preclude a change in emotions. Feelings about another person are not fixed, circumstances can alter them, or perhaps a better understanding of a person can alter the way in which you regard them."

Lizzy avoided Moira's penetrating gaze, and reaching into her bag, pulled out the vial of throbbing, red liquid with which she had been gifted at the banquet. "Tell me about this."

"What about it?" Moira did not even try to disguise the amusement in her voice at Lizzy's abrupt change of subject.

"What is it?"

"Did Fitzwilliam not tell you last night? It is a healing potion."

"Yes, but what is it? Is it real? Does it do what he says? It is not poisonous, is it?" Lizzy hoped especially for a negative response to her last question, as she had already given some of the potion to an unwitting Mr. Darcy, not stopping to think before she did that it may have deleterious effects instead of healing ones.

"Have you not tried it?" Moira's eyes twinkled in wicked amusement.

"I... Yes. I... I gave some to Mr. Darcy last night."

"I am surprised that he was willing to take it."

"I did not tell him," Lizzy stated with more defiance than she felt, as evidenced by the blush creeping into her cheeks.

"And did it work?"

"Well, the cut on his hand was healed."

"Well, there you have it."

"But... it will not harm him in any way to have taken it, will it?"

"Why do you care, if you dislike him so much?"

"Because I would not willingly wish to harm anyone, whether I like them or not! And anyway, I do not dislike Mr. Darcy so much now. At any rate, Mr. Darcy as he is now seems a most agreeable gentleman. But about the potion..."

"The potion will not harm him - it is, as Fitzwilliam said, a healing potion, although it is more than that. It is made from Darcinian plant extracts, so what it really does is... intensify things... such as healing and strength -" Moira paused as if there was more she would say, but she did not.

"If I give this to my sister, will she get well immediately?"

"No, Miss Bennet, that potion will not work in your world. It will become just a harmless bottle of scented water. Perhaps I should explain to you a bit about potions. There are two kinds - there are those that work instantaneously, but whose effects fade when the imbiber sleeps, and there are others that have permanent effects, but are not activated until the imbiber sleeps. Your potion is of the former variety. Its healing effects are permanent, because what is intensified by it are a body's own healing properties and the healing process will not reverse when the potion's effect fades, but any other effects, such as heightened strength, will fade overnight."

"So, if Mr. Darcy had experienced any other effects from it, they will have worn off by now?"

"If he slept a sufficiently long time last night, yes."

Before Lizzy could ask any more questions she noticed that the rest of the group, most of whom she had lagged behind in her earnest discussion with Moira, had paused at the top of the rise they had just ascended. In particular, Lizzy's eyes were drawn to Mr. Darcy, whose face was a picture of disbelief as he stared down into the valley below. Lizzy rushed to his side and looked down to see what held him so transfixed and she saw a grand mansion enveloped in a fierce storm. It was obviously Miss Bingley's palace, but why it should affect Mr. Darcy so, Lizzy could not imagine. She looked back at Mr. Darcy's face inquiringly.

"It... it... it is... Pemberley!"

"What do you mean, Mr. Darcy?"

"Miss Bingley's palace - it is my house, Pemberley. She has re-created Pemberley!"

This was intriguing indeed! Lizzy contemplated the stately mansion in the valley below - a fine prospect to be sure. No wonder Miss Bingley wanted to be mistress of such a fine place. Lizzy suddenly realized what an enormous responsibility rested on the broad shoulders of the man beside her, and to have undertaken it at such a young age - Lizzy felt something like sympathy for Mr. Darcy at that moment (an odd reaction upon witnessing the splendor in which he lived), and a tiny spark of understanding that he should be so proud - and serious - all the time.

"Miss Bingley must be completely mad!" Mr. Darcy blurted out, his face showing every bit of his incredulity.

Before Lizzy could react to this remarkable pronouncement, the air was filled with horrid screeching, and a swarm of flying monkeys descended upon the group of travelers. Lizzy crouched down and covered her head with her arms as they grabbed at her hair and arms. The centaurs' bows were of no use against an enemy at such close quarters, and only Mr. Darcy with his sword was able to mount any kind of defense against the attack. He slashed at the monkeys who tried to grab him, but amidst the frenzy he noticed too late that he was not the only prey of the simian horde - he turned in horror to see that Lizzy was being lifted into the air by a half dozen of the sinister beasts.

"Elizabeth!"

Mr. Darcy leaped after her and managed to grab onto one of her legs, and was relieved when he felt that his weight was too much for Lizzy's abductors and they were sinking back to the ground, but his relief was short lived when he suddenly found himself sprawled on the ground holding nothing but one of Lizzy's boots while the monkeys rose higher and higher with their captive. He had no time to think of another way to stop them; more monkeys swooped down on him to carry him off too. Had he thought about it, he would have made the erroneous decision to allow himself to be carried off; after all, it had worked out to his advantage the day before as he and Elizabeth had both been carried off to the same place. Fortunately, as the monkeys had no intention of reuniting him with Lizzy at the end of the flight, he did not think of this, and continued to fight his attackers with his sword until there were too few remaining to lift his weight, and those few, injured in the fray, retreated in the direction of the palace. Darcy grabbed Lizzy's boot from the ground where he had dropped it and searched the sky in despair, hoping to see where they had taken Lizzy, but she and her attackers had vanished.

Before he could give in to panic, Moira bounded up to him.

"Hold onto my tail, Mr. Darcy," she commanded, and he did as she said. Then she unfurled her enormous, glistening wings, and with a powerful spring into the air, accompanied by a great whooshing of her wings, Mr. Darcy was swept off the ground in pursuit of the woman he had sworn, and failed, to protect.

Posted on: 2009-06-12

Chapter Eleven

The storm rapidly abated, and Caroline was pleased; she knew the import of such a change. The Darcy - her Darcy was near. She debated whether to go and witness Eliza Bennet's ultimate comeuppance to be sure nothing went wrong (although she did not really want to see it), leaving Mr. Darcy in the care of the monkeys so he would not escape, or simply rushing into the marriage ceremony right away. The lack of a minister of any kind was a drawback to the latter plan, but as queen, she could ordain anyone she pleased in an instant. Theology had little to do with the functions she required at the moment. To be sure, she had envisioned a wedding with a great deal of pomp, which would obviously have to be dispensed with under the circumstances, but to be joined in matrimony to Mr. Darcy by a flying monkey? Well, desperate times, and all that...

Caroline had just decided to return to her chamber to don the wedding dress that had been hanging in her closet for Darcinian decades, when a very small band of monkeys, clearly the worse for their mission, flew haggardly into the throne room.

"Where is The Darcy?" she asked, her hopes sinking and her anger rising once again.

Flying monkeys are not terribly articulate, so it took some time for Caroline to extract from them a coherent report of their mission. On the whole, she was not satisfied with what they had to report. While pleased that at least Eliza Bennet had been captured, and was at that very moment winging her way to a lamentable end, Caroline was vexed that not only had Mr. Darcy eluded capture, but he had fought valiantly to rescue that Bennet chit.

'How did he get a sword?' she wondered. It did not matter, she realized - obviously Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet had supporters among the queen's subjects. She wondered where they had been going when the monkeys found them, and then shook her head as if to rid herself of such useless speculation. She needed a new plan. She tried to order the remaining monkeys to make another effort at abducting Mr. Darcy, but they merely bared their teeth at her and limped out of the throne room. Apparently, ignominious defeat takes the edge off of a desire to mischievously inflict suffering.

Caroline threw herself down on her throne to think, her normal, haughtily correct posture abandoned for a more peevish slouch. 'Where would Mr. Darcy be going now?' Caroline tried to imagine what Mr. Darcy would be thinking, a point not easy to conjecture. She had, after all, spent years trying to understand the man in order to be exactly what he wanted, but he remained an enigma. She could never have predicted, for example, that he would be so taken with someone like Eliza Bennet, and yet...

Caroline sat up straight in her chair. Of course! He would be on his way to rescue Eliza Bennet. The monkeys had said that when they found Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet they had been in the company of a number of Darcinians, every one of whom would know exactly where Eliza was being taken, and would doubtless not only tell Mr. Darcy, but lead him there with all haste.

'I must get there first!' Caroline rushed from the throne room, practically running down the corridor to her own apartments, making straight for her dressing room. Once there, she grabbed a pelisse and hastily donned it before yanking aside a painting on the wall that very tastefully depicted herself lying seductively on a sofa with an adoring Mr. Darcy kneeling worshipfully at her side, and revealed a safe in the wall, hidden behind the painting. She frantically dialed the combination, her shaking hands opposing her need for speed as her agitation made her miss the proper numbers time and again. When she had finally correctly dialed Mr. Darcy's height, his age, and the number of his London house, the safe sprung open. Caroline once again indulged in her recently acquired habit of uttering quite unladylike oaths when she realized that the safe was empty. Where there should have been a small, crystal vial filled with a glowing, slightly pulsing, red liquid there was now nothing but a very fine layer of dust.

Caroline slammed the safe shut, not bothering to replace the painting that had concealed it. If her potion was gone, matters were now worse than she had thought. She had no way of knowing who was helping her enemies, and in what way; in particular, how they meant to make use of her potion. It was imperative that she find Mr. Darcy. She yanked another painting off the wall, this one depicting Mr. Darcy as he might have been rendered by an artist in ancient Greece in an attempt to illustrate the perfection of the male form. Behind the painting was a small lever; Miss Bingley jerked it down and a panel opened in the wall revealing a narrow, dark staircase. Caroline grabbed a candle and started to descend.

"Shhhhhh."

Moira had set Mr. Darcy down gently atop a cliff overlooking a shallow gorge, and motioned to him to proceed quietly to look over the edge. The walls of the chasm were composed of steep, jagged rock, though the floor of the gorge was wide and flat. At the end of the gorge a large cave opened at the base of the rock wall, but the darkness of the cave mouth gave no indication of the depth of the cavern. Mr. Darcy scarcely noted the geological details, however. His attention was fixed by the figure of Elizabeth, bound hand and foot to two pillars of stone to one side of the the cave entrance. Facing her on the opposite side of the cave opening, a faun, dressed in a most disheveled frock coat, was secured in the same spread-eagle position to another pair of pillars. Mr. Darcy scanned his surroundings anxiously, trying to discover a way down into the gorge. Not seeing a route that would lead him speedily to Lizzy's side, he asked Moira to fly him down.

"Why are we waiting up here? We must go down and release Miss Bennet at once."

"All in due time, Mr. Darcy, but first I must apprise you of the danger you will meet down there."

"What danger? If there is any danger, we must remove Miss Bennet from her bonds immediately!"

"Mr. Darcy, there is a monster in that cave, and the moment you try to free Miss Bennet, you will be attacked."

"Very well, I still have my sword," Mr. Darcy patted the hilt of his weapon, strapped to his waist, where also hung Lizzy's boot. "I can defend myself - and her - if need be, if you will only lift us to safety."

"I cannot lift you both, Mr. Darcy, and I must explain to you what kind of beast you will face, for it is not by a sword that it is to be slain."

Mr. Darcy was confused. "What do you mean?"

Moira fixed Mr. Darcy with a serious gaze. "In that cave lives a creature that is, as far as I know, the only one of its kind, an ancient monster found only in Darcinia. It has taken years of study to understand the nature of the beast, and discover the manner of defeating it. For many centuries it preyed on the inhabitants of this land, until it was finally confined to this gorge, and it is now fed regularly, which makes it content to remain there instead of venturing out to hunt across the land. Miss Bingley's greatest hold over her subjects has always been the threat of being tied to those pillars below, to provide food for the beast."

Mr. Darcy's heart was chilled at the thought, both of Elizabeth's peril and Caroline Bingley's unfathomable cruelty. "Tell me quickly, what is it, and how can I kill it?"

"It is called the P.R.O.B. - the Prescient Reflective Obstacle Beast. It is, in essence, a giant serpent, but with peculiar, mystical, mental abilities. When it is attacked - and it will see your attempt at freeing its breakfast as an attack - it reads the mind of the attacker and discovers its foe's true heart's desire. It then reads the future - I know not how, so do not ask me - and finds out what obstacles lie between its foe and the desired object. The beast then takes the form of those obstacles, which confuses and distracts the attacker, allowing the beast to strike and kill."

Of all the events and tales presented to Mr. Darcy since he had arrived in the strange land through Miss Bingley's wardrobe, none had been so hard to believe as the one now set before him. A giant snake that could read his heart, and see his future? Preposterous, but he had not the time to dispute it with Moira. "Is this a joke?" was his only response to the ludicrous explanation.

"Assuredly not, Mr. Darcy. I know it is hard to believe, or even understand. Let me give you an example of its methods. Miss Bingley has attempted to face the beast several times, under controlled conditions, of course, and every time it has assumed the guise of Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"What? Why?" Darcy could not imagine what Miss Elizabeth Bennet had to do with Miss Bingley's future - or in what way she was an obstacle to her heart's desire. Miss Bingley's jealousy of her putative rival was all based on her own speculation... was it not?

"Come now, Mr. Darcy, surely you know that you are Miss Bingley's greatest desire - or, at any rate, your fortune, estate, and prestigious name are."

"Believe me, Miss Elizabeth Bennet is not what stands between Miss Bingley and the post of mistress of Pemberley," Mr. Darcy said with bitterness and exasperation at Moira's glacial pace of instructing him. "Now, will you kindly tell me how to rescue Miss Bennet, and that poor faun as well, as I can apparently not do so with this sword?"

"The sword will help you to fight it, Mr. Darcy, though it will not kill it. I am afraid that, not having the same powers the beast has, I cannot tell you precisely what to do. You will be presented with successive forms of attack, and you can dispatch them with your sword in order to stall for time until you figure out for yourself how to defeat it, but each time you cut off its head, it will just grow back in a new form. The way to defeat it is, I believe, to figure out how to overcome whatever obstacles it represents in your real life. With each obstacle you conquer, the beast will weaken, and if you can overcome whichever is the greatest obstacle you face, I believe the beast will suffer a mental collapse, and die."

"How can I know how to overcome the obstacles in my future, if I do not even know what my heart's desire is?" Mr. Darcy was always a thoughtful man, given to philosophical pondering, but he had hitherto given much more thought to his duties than his desires.

"I think you do know, Mr. Darcy." Moira regarded him in silence for a few moments. "Are you ready? The beast will not emerge on its own to eat until the sun hits the opening of the cave, which will happen in a few minutes; you have no time to lose, but you must beware - it will attack you immediately when you appear below. Are you prepared to fight?"

Mr. Darcy looked down at Lizzy, who, despite her own danger, appeared to be attempting to comfort the poor faun destined to share her gruesome fate if Mr. Darcy did not intervene for them both. "Yes," Mr. Darcy said, drawing his sword, "Fly me down there."

Lizzy had never seen a monkey before. She had read about them in books in her father's library, and even seen a picture in one of them, but the horrid creatures who dragged her away into the sky and then tied her to the pillars did not meet her expectations of the playful, mischievous animals described in the books of exotic lands she had found so fascinating. These were revolting beasts - vicious, odoriferous, leering creatures - and since when did monkeys have wings? None of her reading had said anything about flying monkeys. Lizzy formed an instant dislike to the entire order of fauna from whence they sprung.

Her reaction to this abduction and imprisonment was more in the nature of anger than fear; she had no idea what lurked inside the cave near which she was shackled, but she did know that Miss Bingley must be the cause of her current uncomfortable and mortifying position, and was appalled at that lady's extreme measures in futile pursuit of Mr. Darcy. In addition to this anger, she was now plagued by guilt, for she recognized her fellow prisoner, and her heart sank at the realization that his having aiding her the previous afternoon was the likely cause of his imprisonment.

"Oh, Pemberley, what have they done to you?" she cried out, seeing the grimy and bruised appearance of her friend.

"No more than I expected, Elizabeth Bennet. I knew this would happen if I helped you, and now..." the faun appeared both exhausted and despondent.

"I am so sorry, Pemberley! I had no idea... but do not despair, I have friends -"

"It is no matter, Elizabeth Bennet. Your friends cannot help us. It will awaken soon, and anyway, no one can defeat it even if they arrived in time."

"What do you mean 'it'?"

"The beast, Elizabeth Bennet, the beast! We have displeased the queen, and now we are to become breakfast for the beast. You will see, any minute now, the sun will enter his cave and awaken him, and he will be hungry. You will see."

Lizzy had experienced some odd and amazing things in the last day and night, most of which she could scarcely believed had happened; had anyone else told her a tale of similar adventures she would have laughed at the sheer impossibility of any of it. No, she would not have believed it if it had not happened to her, but she had been forced to trust her own eyes and ears and accept the fact that she had entered a strange land called Darcinia, in which Miss Bingley ruled and Mr. Darcy was worshipped. She had been captured by centaurs, and later by flying monkeys. She had dined with satyrs, fauns and a sphinx, and had her hair dressed by fairies. She was wearing boots - or at any rate, a boot - made by elves. Mr. Darcy - cold, proud, disdainful Mr. Darcy - had declared his attraction to her. All this she now believed, but she categorically refused to accept that she was about to die, accompanied by the poor, pathetic, forlorn faun, under orders of a delusional Caroline Bingley, by means of being consumed by a so-called beast lurking in a cave waiting for sunlight.

"No, Pemberley, we will not be eaten by whatever monster is in that cave. You were right, Mr. Darcy has come to Darcinia, and he will save us - I know he will." Lizzy wondered, as she tried to convince Pemberley of Mr. Darcy's heroic capabilities, when she had come to think of him in such a way, as a gallant rescuer of damsels - and fauns - in distress, instead of a most unpleasant man who barely deserved to be called a gentleman.

Pemberley offered her a weak smile, convinced that she deluded herself, and unable to share her feelings of certainty. "It is too late, Elizabeth Bennet. I always dreamed that some day I would see The Darcy, and all last night I prayed he would come, with you by his side, and defeat the queen and set me - set all of us - free. But it is too late. It is too late." He hung his head, tears coursing down his cheeks, and so he did not see what Lizzy saw.

"Mr. Darcy!"

Chapter Twelve

Pemberley's head jerked up just in time for him to see a tall, dark-haired man wielding a sword drop to the ground from the tail of a hovering sphinx, who then flew back to the top of the ravine with a powerful flutter of wings.

"Moira... and... is that The Darcy?" the faun cried in amazement, looking for confirmation to Lizzy's beaming face, awash with relief.

Mr. Darcy had no time to even look at the two captives, though, much less loose their bonds, for Moira had been right - the moment Mr. Darcy's feet touched ground, a fearsome sight appeared at the mouth of the cave. A serpent of titanic proportions slithered out into the daylight, at least a hundred feet in length, and with a girth like that of an oak tree, and fangs like ivory daggers; the monster slowly wound its way towards Mr. Darcy. Its body was marked by numerous great scars, testament to battles it had fought and won against opponents who had not lived to tell the tale. Its eyes were like glass, with no pupil or iris, just blank orbs, but there was no doubt in the minds of anyone watching that the beast had focused its vision on the man who threatened it with a sword. Mr. Darcy could see himself reflected in the dark mirrors of the creature's eyes as he watched with wary tension the monster's approach, waiting to discover the first form it would take to threaten him. Still unsure of what the beast would find in the recesses of his heart, he had no idea in what way the obstacles in his path would reveal themselves.

The beast stopped a mere twenty feet away, and Mr. Darcy watched in morbid fascination as its head began to contort, throbbing and pulsing until all the features finally resolved themselves into the shape of a head, a human head, at least five times normal size. The face that now gazed down upon Mr. Darcy was not a familiar one, but from the hat the figure wore, and the neckcloth wound incongruously about the creature's throat, he appeared to be a clergyman. Mr. Darcy had no idea what could be the proper strategy to defeat such a seemingly harmless enemy, nor in what way the figure before him represented a threat to his possible future happiness, and he risked a quick glance at Lizzy, to see if she recognized this puzzling apparition. Her face reflected confusion similar to his own.

Suddenly, the beast shifted his gaze from Mr. Darcy to Lizzy, and with terrifying speed, lashed out with its tail, severing the ropes at Lizzy's wrists and ankles, and catching her up in the coils of its tail. The expression on the strange clergyman's face shifted to a sickening leer, and the head of the monster loomed close to Lizzy, fangs protruding from puckered lips. Mr. Darcy charged forward with his sword, but before he could strike, Lizzy managed to free one of her arms and deliver a resounding slap across the cheek of her tormentor.

The monster began to lash about with its tail, shaking Lizzy mercilessly, while the head began to shift and change again. This time it embodied a foe familiar to Mr. Darcy, though he still saw no connection between the sneering face looming over him, and his own future, particularly as it related to his heart's greatest desire, the monster seemed instead to be depicting an obstacle from the past. He did not stop to think about the appropriate method to defeat it, he merely did what he had fantasized about in his bleakest, blackest moments - he swung his sword and lopped off the worthless head of Mr. George Wickham.

Another quick glance at Lizzy showed that she thought this would be the end of her ordeal, but Mr. Darcy did not share her shock and dismay when the beast immediately, and with much writhing, grew a new head. The latest incarnation of the beast was also familiar to Mr. Darcy, a gray haired, haughty, formidable dowager reared up in front of him as if prepared to strike. Without a thought, Mr. Darcy gave in to the same wicked impulse as before, and his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was swiftly disposed of in the same manner as the scoundrel, Wickham.

Again the contortions of the great animal produced a new head, this time one that both Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth knew. The flabbergasted Lizzy, who until that point had not recognized any of the beast's faces, and had no idea what manner of monster held her tight within its coils, could not have been more amazed by anything than she was by the appearance of her own mother's head on the body of an enormous serpent. Mr. Darcy was not entirely surprised; he was reluctantly coming to believe in Moira's explanation of the way the beast performed its strange attack, and if he had been given more time to think about it, he would probably have concluded that Mrs. Bennet was indeed an obstacle to obtaining his heart's desire. But he groaned in frustration all the same, as he did not know how to surmount such an obstacle, and he was loath to repeat his earlier successful technique and decapitate Lizzy's mother right in front of her. He took a few steps backwards to stall for time as the serpent advanced upon him, its mouth gaping in preparation to strike, when Lizzy unwittingly solved the problem once again.

"Mama, no! Do not hurt him!" Lizzy cried out, though she could not say why - this thing, this wretched monster was not her mother, but she had not been able to resist the irrational impulse, and it was a fortunate impulse after all, as the serpent once again altered its appearance, much more slowly this time, and its new visage surprised both Lizzy and Mr. Darcy.

Mr. Darcy looked up in amazement at his own face.

'Of course,' he thought to himself as he watched the serpent's inexorable approach. 'You are an obstacle to your own heart's desire. Did you not keep yourself awake long into the night trying to rationalize your own objections to spending the rest of your life with a wonderful, intelligent, caring, witty, beautiful woman? And for what? Would you rather be alone than be with her? Would you rather find someone else, someone more suitable, like your cousin Anne, or worse, Caroline Bingley, either of whom would satisfy society's notion of what kind of woman ought to be your wife, but neither of whom you could never love?'

Lizzy watched in horror as Mr. Darcy lowered his sword, and gestured towards the beast as if encouraging it to approach. The massive head of the beast displayed a countenance of confusion, and it bent its head down to Mr. Darcy's, looking him squarely in the eye.

"You are only hurting yourself," he said earnestly to his own image. "She is worth everything to you, and you know it." He punctuated his words with a slap with the back of his hand across the face of the beast, as if he wanted to slap some sense into himself.

The monster suddenly jerked its head back, shaking it vigorously side to side, and then once more went into its convulsions. Mr. Darcy was apprehensive and disappointed - he thought he had discovered his heart's desire, and the greatest obstacle to achieving it, but if that were so, why did the monster not die? He was just beginning to understand how the beast's strategy of attack could be successful at fatally distracting an opponent when the new face of the beast finally coalesced. He heard Lizzy gasp, and he could not blame her for being shocked - the beast had taken on the face of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

The face of Lizzy that towered over him, a look of disdain contorting her features, was yet more enchantingly beautiful than Mr. Darcy had ever seen her. Her long, slender, graceful neck emerged from the scaly body of the snake, and her hair was piled atop her head in dainty curls bedecked with tiny, delicate pearls. But her eyes - it was her eyes that captivated Mr. Darcy so entirely - though filled with disdain they sparkled with intelligence and mirth, and bewitched him. He understood immediately. Lizzy was truly the greatest obstacle to his future happiness as her husband. Her words of the last night instantly echoed in his mind - she thought he hated her, she thought him arrogant, aloof, disdainful. She was not impressed by his fortune or his estate, or his social prominence, and if he wanted to win her, he must woo her, and be a true gentleman.

Mr. Darcy approached the serpent in the form of that most bewitching lady, looking her straight in the the eye. He stopped right in front of her and held his sword out with both arms outstretched, and then turned it and offered her the hilt, bowing deeply as he held her gaze.

"Miss Bennet, my heart is yours," he said to the serpent, in a voice low enough that no other could hear.

The affect of his words and actions was immediate. The beast began to shudder along the entire length of its body, thrashing its head and its tail violently. Mr. Darcy watched with alarm as Lizzy was jerked back and forth, fearful that she would come to harm even if the monster should die.

And die it did.