Posted on: 2009-06-19

Chapter Thirteen

With one last great shudder, the massive body crashed limply to the ground where the head, returned to its snake form, burst upon contact with the earth. Lizzy was thrown into the air, and Mr. Darcy, with a gallant impulse, rushed to catch her as she fell - a romantic notion that in practice was perhaps foolhardy. As light and pleasing as her figure was, the impact of Lizzy's flying body as she landed in his arms was enough to knock Mr. Darcy forcefully to the ground and drive all the air from his lungs.

Lizzy recovered from her fall quickly, and, mortified to find herself lying atop Mr. Darcy's prone body, she scrambled off of him, and knelt beside him, a look of grave concern on her face.

Physical pain aside, Mr. Darcy was overwhelmed by emotions as he lay on the ground under the worried gaze of the woman he had just risked his life to save. He could neither breathe nor speak, nor even move, only stare up at her and his surroundings. He could see a number of beings gathered along the edge of the cliff above, recognizing not just Moira, but also Fitzwilliam, and the other Darcinians who had provided their escort that morning. Then Mr. Darcy's gaze chanced to alight on another figure, a human figure, Miss Bingley, glaring down upon him from among the trees atop the cliff. She turned away from him and disappeared through the woods. He struggled to say something, anything, and turned his eyes once again to Lizzy's as she still knelt by his side. The lovely expression of concern in her eyes - concern for him - immediately drove all thoughts of Miss Bingley from his head.

"Mr. Darcy, are you all right?" Lizzy cried, though she could tell he was not - though conscious, he did not seem to be breathing. She rummaged in her bag, which was still attached to her wrist in spite of all she had endured, and pulled out the flask of healing potion. She knew that Mr. Darcy would not drink the vile liquid willingly, but he was in no condition to resist, so she poured the entire contents of the vial down his throat.

Mr. Darcy gave a great, shuddering gasp, and his face contorted with disgust for a moment. The effects of the potion, particularly in such a large dose, were rapid, and as soon as he could move, Mr. Darcy leaped to his feet and pulled Lizzy up with him, grasping her arms and looking deeply into her eyes.

"Miss Bennet, are you hurt?"

Lizzy, too startled by his vehemence to speak, only shook her head in response, and was startled even further when Mr. Darcy pulled her to his chest in a crushing embrace, and buried his face in her hair.

"Thank God... thank God... If anything had happened to you -" he murmured, gently stroking Lizzy's hair, and scattering gentle kisses on the top of her head. Lizzy leaned helplessly into his body; her legs no longer willing to support her, she was overcome by lightheadedness from relief and confusion.

A burst of cheering and applause arose around them and they were suddenly surrounded by noise and movement; Mr. Darcy released Lizzy from his embrace, though he retained her hand in his, absently stroking it with his thumb. They looked around to see that their protectors from the Cult of Eliza, who had grasped immediately where Lizzy was being taken when the monkeys carried her off, had arrived in time to see Mr. Darcy defeat the fearsome P.R.O.B. Minerva, great, powerful wings beating slowly, alit beside Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, and others, managing the steep, rocky walls of the ravine with surprising animal agility, rushed to free poor Pemberley from his bonds. Immediately upon being released the little faun rushed over to where his hero stood, and threw himself upon his face in the dust before Mr. Darcy's feet.

"Oh, Great Darcy, I thank you most humbly for saving me! You are truly a blessing to all Darcinia, oh great one! So brave and valiant! So selfless and noble! Elizabeth Bennet swore that you would come and save us, and you did..." Pemberley continued at great length in a similar vein and Lizzy was amused to see Mr. Darcy's face turn progressively redder as he blushed from such profuse praise. His disarmingly charming consciousness reawakened her playful wit.

"Indeed, you are quite the hero, Mr. Darcy. By rights you should be wearing a suit of shining armor and riding a white steed."

Mr. Darcy was pleased with her teasing, and even more pleased by the delightful glint in her eyes. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it most tenderly. "I did swear to protect you, Miss Bennet."

Lizzy laughed, delighting him again with the sound. "I have said so before, Mr. Darcy, but you really do take too much upon yourself!"

"I would do it again, Elizabeth, I would do anything for you."

Now it was Lizzy's turn to blush; the words he had spoken, and the tender way he spoke them, calling her Elizabeth so familiarly and intimately, gave rise to a confusing mix of emotions, many of them quite pleasant. She was temporarily robbed of her ability to make a witty rejoinder, indeed, she was robbed of the power of speech.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy... for saving me," she said quietly when she had recovered.

Mr. Darcy lightly squeezed her hand and smiled. "Do not forget, you helped, Elizabeth. You were magnificent, you must know." He was concerned when her face clouded with unease.

"What was that... that thing?" she asked him.

Before he could answer, a particular phrase from Pemberley's continuing professions intruded on their quiet interlude. "... and I am so grateful that the queen -"

Instantly Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were again alert to their present predicament.

"Miss Bingley!" Mr. Darcy exclaimed. "I saw her, on the edge of the cliff after... after Miss Bennet and I fell." He forced himself not to be distracted by Lizzy's becoming blush as she remembered the manner in which they landed after they fell. "She fled into the woods."

A hush fell on all assembled for a long moment and then it seemed as if everyone began speaking at once, voicing opinions about the best way to organize a search of the surrounding forest.

"You will not find her."

The voice that broke through the babel was quiet, but something in the firm inflection arrested all discussion as everyone turned to see who had spoken. The faun who spoke so assuredly to them was a stranger; he was not part of their group. He appeared unwell, and very unkempt - his face was scratched, and he had dark circles under his eyes and a garish bruise on his forehead. There were leaves and twigs in his hair, and his clothes were torn, muddy, and damp. He limped to the center of the group, where Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were surrounded by all of the cultists who had accompanied them. Moira sat beside Mr. Darcy, her usual inscrutable look on her face, and the faun Pemberley remained crouched on the ground where he had been groveling, until the new faun stopped just in front of the two humans.

"Derbyshire!" Pemberley cried, leaping to his feet and throwing his arms around the newcomer.

"Pemberley! I am so relieved that you are still alive! Mother would never have forgiven me -" Derbyshire dissolved into tears, which provoked a similar outburst from his brother, as they both gave vent to all their fears and relief with their faces buried in each other's shoulders. All the rest of those gathered, though moved by the scene unfolding before them, were kept in suspense regarding Derbyshire's pronouncement.

At long last the tears were spent and Derbyshire, his arm linked with his brother's as if he did not want to let him go, turned to Mr. Darcy and Lizzy.

"Great Darcy, Eliza Bennet, I am honored to meet you. I am Derbyshire, aide to the queen. I have been in service to the queen almost all of my life - until last night. I am overjoyed that the two of you have come to free us from the tyranny of the queen, and am most relieved that her plan to have Eliza Bennet fed to the beast has failed, and I will be eternally grateful that you have saved my younger brother from the same sinister fate. I have come to offer my services to you in overthrowing the queen, as my intimate knowledge of her plans, and more importantly, her capabilities, will, I believe, be of great assistance to you in capturing her. I will reiterate that a search of the surrounding forest will be to no avail; the queen will have reached one of her secret hideaways by now, and you will not find her."

Moira spoke up, "What secret hideaways?"

"Ah, Moira," Derbyshire said, as if he had just noticed her sitting at Mr. Darcy's side, "I expected to find you in such company this morning. The queen, like many people in power who fear to lose it, is quite paranoid. She has suspected for a very long time that not all Darcinians adore her the way she wishes and feels she deserves to be adored, and so, when she had her palace built, she had a great number of secret passageways constructed that lead out into the surrounding hills, and provide emergency refuges for her. I am surprised you did not know that, Moira, although, besides the queen, I am supposedly the only one who does, as all the workers who built them died generations ago. The queen has very likely gone to one of them, and based on The Darcy's assertion that he saw her here, I think I can guess which one."

Lizzy noticed with amusement that Mr. Darcy flinched at the way Pemberley and Derbyshire addressed him as The Darcy, and even worse, Great Darcy.

Fitzwilliam the centaur pushed his way to the center of the group and demanded, "If you know where she is, then tell us and we will go after her!" A rumble of assent from the others greeted his demand.

"It is not as easy as that. The queen will be keeping careful watch. I think that I may be able to approach, but I will need something to coax her out - I will have to give her some reason to believe she will be safe, or... I do not know, some incentive, some trick, if need be." Derbyshire rubbed his eyes wearily. "I do not know... I cannot think, I am so tired..."

Pemberley tightened his grip on his brother's arm, and patted it gently with his other hand, murmuring reassuringly to him with an expression of grave concern. Mr. Darcy looked very thoughtful, and turned to Lizzy with a look commingling determination, hopefulness, and tenderness... and a touch of apprehension.

"We could get married," he said.

This suggestion had a similar effect to his earlier announcement that he had spied Miss Bingley - utter silence followed by a rush of voices, all jubilant this time. Lizzy herself was stunned.

"Mr. Darcy, we have discussed this -"

"Please, hear me out, Elizabeth," he interrupted, and she could not help but notice his continued use of her Christian name. "We need Miss Bingley if we are to ever get home, and nothing is more likely to draw her out of hiding than our wedding. Knowing her designs on me, and her feelings about you, I feel certain that she will want to do whatever she can to stop it from taking place. You have made your feelings on the matter quite clear, I know you have no wish to marry me at this time," Lizzy noticed again his peculiar choice of words, 'at this time,' the same he had used in discussing the idea the night before, and Mr. Darcy rushed on, "...but consider, we will not truly be married. I am no expert on matrimonial law, but I am certain that a marriage taking place in Darcinia, officiated by I know not what kind of creature, without a license or the consent of the father of the not-yet-of-age bride, will not be legally binding in England. And if it does not lure Miss Bingley from hiding, we have lost nothing. At the very least, we will have made Fitzwilliam very happy," he added with a small smile and a gesture in the direction of a clearly very elated centaur.

"And if the plan fails, and we must stay here another night or even longer..." Lizzy blushed furiously as she asked, barely above a whisper, and unable to even finish her sentence.

"Miss Bennet, you must know that I would never impose myself on you in any way!" Mr. Darcy blushed as well, and in spite of her own discomfort, Lizzy was pleased to see it.

Turning to Derbyshire, who waited silently arm in arm with his brother amidst the din, Lizzy asked, "Do you think that Mr. Darcy's idea will work in flushing out Miss Bingley?"

"Most decidedly, Eliza Bennet," he replied.

"Well then," Lizzy said, with a small smile for Mr. Darcy as she gave him her hand, which he raised to his lips and kissed before returning her smile.

A great chorus of 'Huzzahs' broke out among the Darcinians, and at once it was declared to be the greatest day in the history of Darcinia. Messengers were sent in all directions immediately to spread the happy news, and planning for the ceremony, which would take place that very day - at the soonest possible moment, in fact - began at once.

Amidst all the clamor, Mr. Darcy, almost shyly, offered Lizzy her boot, and was dismayed to discover that she had several cuts on the bottom of her foot as a consequence of having lost it, in addition to swollen welts on her wrists and her one visible ankle from the ropes that had bound her.

"How unfortunate, Miss Bennet, that you have used up all of your healing potion by pouring it down my throat when I was unable to resist," Mr. Darcy said, picking up the crystal flask from where Lizzy had dropped it after administering the draught. He was delighted to discover, upon closer examination, that a few drops of the red liquid remained in the bottle, and laughingly coaxed Lizzy to drink them.

As he watched her face contort from the most unpleasant taste of it, he laughed again. "I should not say so, but I feel I have just achieved some small manner of revenge, Miss Bennet. After all, you forced me to drink it... twice, did you not?"

Lizzy laughed with embarrassment to realize she had been caught the night before, and pulled on her boot over her perfectly healed foot.

Moira watched the exchange with great interest, smiling slyly to herself.

Chapter Fourteen

Derbyshire trudged wearily through the woods. It would not be inaccurate to say he feared and loathed the queen, despite all his years of faithful servitude. And though he was pleased that The Darcy - Mr. Darcy had finally come to Darcinia and not only brought a return of spring, but also defeated the P.R.O.B., he did not want Mr. Darcy or Eliza Bennet to rule Darcinia, either. He wanted the humans to leave Darcinia to the Darcinians, though he felt a cynical regret that the citizens of his country should be so called; the humans who had come to conquer their land over the years had changed the name of the country so often that the original name, the true name of Darcinia, had been lost to the ages. Not even Moira knew it.

Of course, Mr. Darcy and Eliza Bennet, or rather Miss Elizabeth Bennet, as she evidently preferred to the name the queen called her, seemed perfectly kind and good. He thought of how Miss Elizabeth Bennet had seemed so regretful that she had no more of her healing potion to give him once she realized the extent of his weariness and the number of his minor injuries. He would not have taken it - he knew what the potion really was - but he was touched all the same by her concern for him, and the concern she had shown his brother Pemberley also. Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet were willing to do what they could to help remove the queen from power, albeit at benefit to themselves in finding a way home as well. Derbyshire knew that they could very easily have taken the throne, and would have been supported in doing so by many Darcinians. It was certainly to their credit that they chose not to. And Mr. Darcy had undeniably proven himself a hero, so that if the country had to be named after a human, he was not a bad choice. But what Derbyshire wanted was a Darcinia governed by a council of Darcinians, as it had been in the intervals between human intervention, which was why he had agreed to participate in this plot when he had been asked several years earlier, and why he had stolen the queen's love potion from her hidden safe. The fact that she had tried to feed his brother to that horrible beast only strengthened his resolve to do what could be considered treason if he did not truly have the best interests of his people at heart. He did not quite understand the plot he had become involved in, but in order to rid Darcinia of the cruel, crazed, ice-hearted queen, he would have done much more - just about anything, in fact. Indeed, it now gave him great pleasure to be able to deliver to the queen a message that would enrage her, but at the same time make her very unhappy, and hopefully, ultimately lead to her exile from Darcinia. A small measure of revenge, indeed.

Caroline was, of course, already in a rage, and very, very unhappy. She paced angrily back and forth in the tiny, cramped cave in which she had taken refuge to plan her next move, but she could not think of a single thing that would salvage her years of plotting and preparation for the time when Mr. Darcy finally came to Darcinia. She was too distracted, furious, and anxious to form any notion of how to reclaim her prize from that hateful Eliza Bennet. Anyway, planning had never been her strong suit - she had, until the night before, had an adviser who had been the instigator of all of her schemes, ever since the day she first arrived in Darcinia and had somehow managed to become queen of the land. Certainly, she had wielded power as queen; she had named the country, demanded that the palace be built exactly the way she wanted it, dictated what all of her subjects would wear and be named, demanded that her every whim be gratified, held them all in check with the threat of being fed to the P.R.O.B....

Ah, The P.R.O.B. It was really her advisor's idea to use the beast as a means to keep her subjects in line. The beast was the thing that all Darcinians feared the most, and having the monster captive to her whim was a source of enormous power to her. Granted, she had never actually sent anyone to be fed to the beast before poor Pemberley; selfish, greedy, and power-hungry she may have been, but never truly cruel, until her desperation the previous night had made her irrational with anger. There had been an accident once with a centaur sent to feed the beast his usual rations of sheep, and this had given rise to the conviction that the queen was actually capable of punishing her subjects in such a brutal manner; Caroline did not choose to correct the misconception, though she had felt queasy about the incident for some time. In her heart - her cold, selfish heart - she had never even believed herself capable of condemning Eliza Bennet to such an end, in accordance with her adviser's urgings, until she actually did it.

Until she actually witnessed the battle between Mr. Darcy and the P.R.O.B., Caroline had never even thought about the enormity of what she was doing. And to think, Mr. Darcy had risked his life to rescue Eliza Bennet from Caroline's wicked plans! Caroline shuddered to think that Mr. Darcy could have been killed, along with Eliza Bennet and poor Pemberley. She sincerely felt relieved that all three had survived the encounter, and not only because it would have destroyed all her hopes for the future, or because she would have had to go back to Netherfield alone and either explain to her brother, Georgiana Darcy, and the Bennets what had happened to their loved ones, or keep a dreadful secret for the rest of her life. Caroline began to feel a bit queasy at the thought of what could have happened - and to think that she would have witnessed it! That was something she had never desired - she always tried to avoid even watching the beast as it was fed, she certainly could not stomach the sight of it devouring Eliza Bennet, no matter how much she despised her rival.

Caroline sank down into a chair, frustrated at where she found herself. While many Darcinians lived in such caves, and anyone else would have considered the little sitting room where she writhed in agitation to be a cozy, comfortable refuge, to Caroline it was a degradation after the luxuries she was accustomed to at her replica of Pemberley, at Netherfield, and even at her brother's house in town. She did not feel she could stay hidden there for long, and she feared returning to the palace, not knowing whether anyone would be there now, or whether they would be friend or foe. She wondered whether she would be able to find her way by herself to the pine grove that hid the gateway back to her normal life. And if she could find it, would she make it there on foot, and without being seen and accosted by any of her no-longer-loyal subjects?

Her brief bout of remorse ended in another flare of her anger. That the queen of Darcinia should be reduced to cowering in a cave while her subjects, nay, even her adviser all rallied to the side of that impertinent upstart, Eliza Bennet was simply not to be borne. And to make it all worse, Eliza had the love potion, Caroline had seen it in her hand, and she had been poised to administer it to Mr. Darcy when Caroline had fled. Of course, Caroline could easily surmise how her rival had managed to acquire the precious elixir that was the key to the entire scheme to become Mr. Darcy's wife - she had seen that traitor at the gorge, her own advisor, Moira, who had orchestrated Caroline's entire campaign, architect of her whole plot to bring Mr. Darcy to Darcinia, and dispose of the distracting Eliza Bennet. Moira, who had helped her to concoct the mythology around which her reign was based, to convince the Darcinians that it was in their best interest to cooperate with the plan, and to use the P.R.O.B. as a means of not only controlling her subjects, but as a way to dispose of her rival as well. And now Moira was helping Eliza Bennet, and Mr. Darcy. Caroline felt a chill when the thought entered her mind that perhaps all along, Moira had only been using her for her own ends. Had Moira really defected from her, or had Caroline been a pawn in Moira's schemes the whole time? And whose side was Moira really on? Was there anyone left for Caroline to trust? Would she ever find her way back to Netherfield? Was there any chance that Mr. Darcy would even forgive her now, much less marry her?

Caroline was startled out of her musings by the sound of someone pounding on the door of her cave, and a well-recognized voice calling plaintively through the door.

"Your majesty, let me in! I have dreadful news, and there is no time to lose!"

Caroline froze. Derbyshire. Of course he knew where to find her. But should she let him in? He had abandoned her, just like all the others, though she had not seen him in the gorge after the P.R.O.B. had died, so it was possible that he was not in collusion with Moira and all the other traitors who had thrown their support behind Eliza Bennet. Caroline was unsure what to do, but she knew that she must trust someone. All she wanted now was to go home, and she admitted to herself that she needed help escaping Darcinia. She pulled back the bolt and opened the door, quickly grabbing Derbyshire by his lapels and pulling him into the cave before slamming and bolting the door once again.
"Derbyshire, you faithless worm, why should I trust you? You abandoned me just like all the others," Caroline snarled at her former aide.

Derbyshire fell to his knees and eyed his queen with anguish. "Abandoned, your majesty? Oh, no, I was simply trying to carry out your orders! I went out last night to find Moira on my own, and spent the entire night searching for her, in every place I could think of. But I had to be cautious - Eliza Bennet has supporters, your majesty, and not until this morning did I realize how dire the situation is - Moira has gone over to the other side, your majesty! Even now, as I discovered, your traitorous adviser is helping that wicked Eliza Bennet to overthrow all of your hopes and plans! She has helped Eliza Bennet and The Darcy to find one another, and she aided The Darcy in rescuing the interloper from the P.R.O.B. - he has killed it, your majesty! And now... now! Oh, it is too terrible, your majesty!"

"What are they planning, Derbyshire," Caroline asked in a panic, fearing that Eliza Bennet's followers might try to find - and harm - the one responsible for the dangers Eliza had been forced to endure, who just happened to be none other than Miss Caroline Bingley, queen of Darcinia.

"The Darcy and Eliza Bennet are... are... getting married! Immediately, your majesty, with no time to lose," Derbyshire exclaimed, throwing himself flat on the stone floor at Caroline's feet.

"We will see about that," Caroline said with a voice like steel, and, hauling Derbyshire to his feet, hurried through a doorway at the back of the cozy little cave, into a tunnel leading back to the palace.

Posted on: 2009-06-29

Chapter Fifteen

Lizzy and Mr. Darcy were escorted by a growing and jubilant entourage through the woods to the queen's palace, a stunningly accurate replica of Mr. Darcy's home in Derbyshire, Pemberley. When they arrived, Lizzy looked around her with great curiosity, having heard so much about the place, and a look at Mr. Darcy's face convinced her that it was, to his eye, eerily like his home in the North of England. He looked both unsettled and amazed, and Lizzy wondered how she would feel if it were Longbourn that had been replicated in a strange land by a deranged socialite. Angry? Afraid?

"Is this really what your home is like, Mr. Darcy? It is a very lovely house," Lizzy said.

"Yes, it is almost an exact copy of Pemberley, Miss Bennet, and thank you for your compliment - I am pleased that you approve."

"I think there are few who would not approve of such a fine home."

"Yes, but your good opinion is rarely bestowed, and therefore, more worth the earning, Miss Bennet." The look that Mr. Darcy gave her as he said this was slightly unsettling, and Lizzy hastened to ask him a question that burned her with curiosity.

"Does it make you angry that Miss Bingley has done all this to try to force you to become her husband?"

Mr. Darcy looked pensive. "You would think that it would, but I cannot find that I feel anything at all towards Miss Bingley but indifference." He shrugged and returned to examining the details of the palace. "I am beyond feeling amazed, and I cannot seem to feel angry, despite the... adventure that she inflicted on us this morning; I should be enraged to find out what she has been plotting, and this 'palace'... and yet, I feel only... indifference. Towards Miss Bingley, at any rate."

This last little remark was accompanied by another enigmatic smile, and Lizzy was relieved to be spared the necessity of a response by the insistence of some of the palace staff, who had now returned, anxious to serve The Darcy and Eliza Bennet, that they must be shown to their rooms so that they might prepare for the wedding. Time was of the essence, so Lizzy and Mr. Darcy paid each other their courtesies before allowing themselves to be hastened up the stairs by their attendants, sharing sheepish smiles as they parted ways in the corridor.

Mr. Darcy found that he was not, as he had believed, beyond amazement upon being ushered into his room; it was located in the same place as his real room at home in Derbyshire, and was alarmingly correct in its appointments. Mr. Darcy experienced a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the realization that Miss Bingley must, at some time, have entered his rooms at Pemberley - the real Pemberley - and not just entered, but remained there long enough that she could have the room recreated in minute detail at her palace. He glanced uneasily at the door which, in his home, led to the suites reserved for the mistress of the house.

"What is through that door?" he asked a faun dressed in the queen's livery.

"Her majesty's chambers," the faun replied as he busied himself with directing other fauns who carried buckets of hot water into the dressing room adjoining the bedchamber.

Mr. Darcy shuddered. "Can it be locked?" he asked, and was relieved when the faun rushed to do so, even though he knew Miss Bingley was not currently on the other side of the door, or anywhere within the palace. With a sigh, Mr. Darcy entered the dressing room to prepare for his wedding, scarcely noticing that the closets, which were open, and in which several of the attending fauns were rummaging in search of various items of clothing, were filled with clothes, in his size, and in the styles and colors he was accustomed to wearing. All thoughts of Miss Bingley and her delusional schemes dissolved as he soaked in the hot water, thinking instead, as he watched a faun brush lint from his wedding suit, of a different young lady, one with very fine eyes, whom he was shortly to wed, even if only as a pretense. The smile on his face was one of uncharacteristic contentment.

Lizzy was not faced with any unsettling surprises in her chamber; she was taken to a guest chamber - the best in the house, according to the fairies who danced attendance on her - and as she had never been to Pemberley, and Miss Bingley had certainly not ever intended to provide her with such accommodations, she felt merely impressed by the luxury with which Pemberley guests were evidently treated. Lizzy herself was almost enjoying herself for the moment; the fairies were pleasant company, the bath in hot, pleasantly scented water was soothing after the morning's exertions (although the few drops of the potion she had drunk earlier had done away with any aches and pains she had been feeling), and the wedding dress that the fairies unveiled for her to wear was simply the most elegant, ethereally beautiful garment she had ever laid eyes on. When she asked how they had managed to procure a dress in her size, that actually fit her exactly as if it had been made for her, they informed her that it had, in fact, been made for her the previous night as she slept, using her own dress, which had been taken away for cleaning, as a pattern. Likewise the shoes, dainty satin slippers embroidered with flowers, had been made using her shoes as models. 'The shoemaking elves were quite busy last night,' she thought as she carefully dressed in the lovely, white, diaphanous gown embroidered all over with sparkling gold thread. She felt something like regret in seeing the fairies take away her wonderful, if now muddy, boots - she hoped she would get them back after the sham marriage ceremony, and would perhaps even be allowed to take them with her back to Netherfield - although it would be difficult to explain their existence, she felt certain.

When she was dressed and coifed with a new, even more enchanting fairy hairstyle, this time a delicate profusion of braids and curls, wound about her head, framing her face, tickling the back of her neck, and sprinkled with tiny pearls, Lizzy surveyed herself in the mirror with uncommon satisfaction. She was not one who normally took a great deal of interest in her clothes and hair, fancy attire not being practical for tromping about the countryside, but she felt undeniably pretty as she considered her reflection. 'We will see who is only tolerable, Mr. Darcy,' she thought, burying her nose in the delightful and exotic Darcinian blooms that made up her bouquet, and then blushed that she should think of such a thing, especially considering what she was about to do - or, at least, pretend to do. But Lizzy was not vain about her looks, and did not even notice how much her blushing became her, and she gave her image one last appreciative nod as the fairies pinned a veil of lace as delicate as spider silk over her curls, before turning away from the mirror and allowing the fairies to accompany her out of the room to where Mr. Darcy was to meet her in the entry hall of the palace.

If Mr. Darcy was breathless with admiration when he had first seen her that morning, that was nothing to what he felt when he glanced up from his conversation with Fitzwilliam to see Lizzy descending the stairs, her train held up by three little fairies. She could not fail to notice and be flattered by his appreciative stare, and blushed furiously. 'That gaze does not look like disapproval - is that how he has regarded me all along, and I have just never noticed? Stop it, Lizzy, you are imagining things!'

When Lizzy reached his side, Mr. Darcy managed to find his voice enough to say, "You look beautiful, Miss Bennet. Radiant as a real bride." Lizzy wondered if her imagination was running away with her again, or had this last been said rather wistfully? She sought to change the subject.

"Are you nervous, Mr. Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy looked alarmed for a moment. "Nervous, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes, that our plan to lure Miss Bingley will fail."

"Oh, that. No, I am confident that if anything will lure her here, this will do it. Besides, if it fails, we can always think of a new plan."

"Let us hope that it will not come to that. Though I must say, Mr. Darcy, you do look a little nervous. Anyone would think that you really were getting married today," Lizzy teased him, and was amused to see him blush.

Mr. Darcy laughed a little and cleared his throat, a nervous sound that belied his previous confident words. He offered Lizzy his arm. "Are you ready, Miss Bennet?"

"May I ask, Mr. Darcy, who is to perform the ceremony?" Lizzy inquired as she tentatively took the offered arm, shifting her bouquet to her other hand. Mr. Darcy covered her fingers with his other hand and gave a slight chuckle.

"Fitzwilliam is," he replied.

Lizzy was surprised. "Is he qualified to do so?"

Mr. Darcy laughed again. "Does it matter? Are you afraid that his officiating will make our marriage less valid?"

Lizzy blushed at her silly question. "No, of course not, I just... but Mr. Darcy, who is to give me away?"

"No one, Miss Bennet. Miss Bingley has omitted that aspect of the ceremony, and we are to process to the church and down the aisle together."

Lizzy was surprised. "She has omitted it?"

"Yes, it seems the queen has made a number of changes to the rites." Mr. Darcy said with a mischievous smile.

"She has changed the Rites of Marriage? She feels she can improve on the Book of Common Prayer?" Lizzy was incredulous at yet another instance of Miss Bingley's audacity.

"Evidently. I have read through the rites, and she has made several omissions, and a few additions as well." Seeing Lizzy's stunned expression, Mr. Darcy laughed yet again. "I think you will like some of the changes, Miss Bennet."

"Indeed?" was Lizzy's only response, and Mr. Darcy led her out the door, following Fitzwilliam and a veritable flock of flower-strewing fairy bridesmaids as they proceeded to the church.

Chapter Sixteen

The storm that had raged over the palace early in the morning had completely dissipated when Mr. Darcy arrived, and a beautiful spring day succeeded the tempest - a perfect day for a wedding. The lane leading from the palace to the church, which Lizzy had not previously noticed as it was concealed by a stand of enormous pine trees, was flanked on both sides by cheering Darcinians waving flags and bowing reverently to the bridal couple as they passed. Lizzy stole a glance at Mr. Darcy, and was amazed to see how happy he looked; he wore an expression of pride, but not a haughty pride as she was used to seeing at Netherfield, rather, a look almost of contentment. Lizzy was struck again by how much he looked like a real bridegroom. The thought made her a little nervous.

Lizzy and her sisters had often played 'wedding' when they were young. Jane, as the prettiest, was always the bride; Lizzy, wearing one of her father's coats with the tails trailing to the floor, had always been the groom. Mary was the natural choice for vicar, and Kitty and Lydia, very young then, were usually the giggling bridesmaids. Her whole life, Lizzy had thought about marriage - it is a common enough subject for any girl to think on - but she had never been in love, nor even infatuated enough with any particular man to picture making this walk with him. And of all the men she had ever known, Mr. Darcy was the last one in the world she would ever have imagined as her bridegroom.

As they entered the church, music swelled and the congregation turned to watch the bride and groom's progress to the altar. They paused a moment in the vestibule, and Lizzy looked around at the church. Above the altar was an enormous stained glass window depicting a comically beatific Caroline Bingley. Other windows also depicted either Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy, or both. Lizzy was horrified to notice one window that showed a picture of herself, but with a forked tongue, fangs, and horns, breathing fire as she was about to be devoured by an enormous serpent. Mr. Darcy noticed her look of consternation and followed her gaze to see what had provoked her ire.

"My, my, that is not a flattering image, my dear," he said with a chuckle, shocking Lizzy with the appellation. "It is a pity that we are not to stay and rule the country, for I could then commission a new window that would depict how beautiful you really are."

Before Lizzy could respond to his teasing they were urged ahead down the aisle. As they walked slowly forward together, Lizzy looked at the assembled faces and was pleased to recognize some of the Darcinians with whom she had dined at the banquet the night before. 'At least there are some familiar faces,' she thought, almost ready to laugh, 'though not those I always expected to see at my wedding.' Finally their seemingly eternal parade ended as they arrived at the altar, where Fitzwilliam awaited them looking proud and somber.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this congregation, to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony; which is an honorable estate, instituted of God in the time of man's innocency, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church; which holy estate Christ adorned and beautified with his presence..."

As Fitzwilliam began the ceremony Lizzy suddenly felt tears start in her eyes; even though it was not real, not really her wedding day, she felt a lump in her throat to be going through this ceremony without her father walking her down the aisle, without her mother weeping in the pew, or without Jane as her bridesmaid - and with a man she had always disliked as her intended husband. Lizzy was afraid that she would burst into tears. She glanced again at Mr. Darcy to see how he was faring; he still smiled blissfully. 'I wonder if this is how he will look on his real wedding day,' Lizzy mused. 'Could he possibly look so happy in an 'eligible' marriage to a lady of the ton, as I am sure he is destined to have? What is he so happy about? It must be that we are soon to be going home - surely it can have nothing to do with me, none of this is even real...'

Lizzy abandoned her speculation on Mr. Darcy's state of mind and likely happiness in marriage; she shook her head to recall herself to the words Fitzwilliam spoke, words that were comforting in their familiarity, at least, a rare blessing of late, when everything, including the behavior of the man beside her, and even her own thoughts, had been foreign and unsettling.

"... and therefore is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly, or wantonly, to satisfy men's carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God; duly considering the causes for which Matrimony was ordained."

Lizzy suppressed a giggle as Fitzwilliam enumerated the reasons why marriage was ordained, noting that nowhere in the list was there any mention of marrying to lure an evil, despotic queen out of hiding. She was startled out of her state of amusement when Fitzwilliam turned to Mr. Darcy to begin the vows - a part of the ceremony had been excised by Miss Bingley, a very important part, to Lizzy's mind, in which the bride, the groom, and the congregation were all asked if they knew of any impediment to the marriage. 'Of course,' Lizzy thought wryly, 'Miss Bingley would allow for no objections, least of all from the bridegroom.' She forced her attention back to the matter at hand.

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, wilt thou have this Woman to thy wedded Wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy state of Matrimony? Wilt thou obey her, and serve her, love, honor and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Lizzy was once again startled by the changes Miss Bingley had wrought in the marriage rites. 'Obey her?' 'Serve her?' It was all Lizzy could do to keep herself from laughing aloud. Mr. Darcy was right, she did like some of the changes!

"I will," Mr. Darcy said, his voice clear and bold, smiling that contented smile at Lizzy.

Fitzwilliam then turned to Lizzy.

"Elizabeth Bennet, wilt thou have this Man to thy wedded Husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy state of Matrimony? Wilt thou love him, comfort him honor and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Lizzy felt a moment of panic - could she say it, even in this unbinding, make-believe ceremony? Lizzy was a woman of her word, and she felt that such a promise should never be made lightly. The notion fleetingly crossed her mind that there had been no need to even pretend to go through the ceremony; if the goal was only to lure Miss Bingley from her hiding place, surely it would have been enough to tell her that the ceremony was to take place? Had Mr. Darcy not thought of that? Lizzy felt the burning sensation of hundreds of eyes watching her expectantly. Miss Bingley had not yet appeared to prevent the marriage; the ceremony must continue. Lizzy cleared her throat.

"I will," she said quietly, not daring to look at Mr. Darcy, though she could have sworn she heard him sigh softly.
Lizzy did not fail to note that the next portion of the rite, where the minister asks, 'Who giveth this Woman to be married to this Man?' had also been omitted by Miss Bingley, and Fitzwilliam directed Mr. Darcy to take Lizzy's right hand in his, and repeat after him. Mr. Darcy smiled encouragingly at Lizzy, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze as he held it, looking deeply into her eyes so earnestly that she felt she could not look away even if she wanted to.

"I Fitzwilliam Darcy take thee Elizabeth Bennet to my wedded Wife, to have and to hold from this day forward..."

Lizzy's heart beat rapidly.

"...for better for worse..."

She could scarcely breathe.

"...for richer for poorer..."

Mr. Darcy's eyes held her captive, their expression...

"...in sickness and in health..."

Could it be?

"...to love, cherish and obey..."

The emotions, the sincerity that radiated from his countenance...

"...till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Could it be possible that Mr. Darcy meant what he was saying? Had he, with his whole heart, just pledged himself to Lizzy in earnest? She felt weak in the knees, she feared she might faint. Mr. Darcy gave her hand another squeeze as Fitzwilliam directed her to repeat her vows. She did so with a quavering voice, her eyes still locked on those of her bridegroom, and not failing to notice once again that the promise to obey which Miss Bingley had inserted into his vows was absent from hers.

After Lizzy had plighted her troth to Mr. Darcy, the centaur who stood up with Mr. Darcy as best man placed two rings on Fitzwilliam's prayer book, another change of Miss Bingley's, Lizzy surmised, as she had never heard of a wedding in which the bride presented the groom with a ring. Mr. Darcy was obliged to let go of her hand to take the ring, and he appeared to relinquish her hand somewhat unwillingly, even though it be only for a few moments while he placed the ring on the finger of her left hand and repeated his promise after Fitzwilliam once again.

"With this Ring I thee wed, with my Body I thee worship, and with all my worldly Goods I thee endow: In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

Lizzy blushed as he vowed to worship her body with his own, and almost laughed as he vowed to endow her with all his worldly goods - that was a heady prospect indeed!

It was then Lizzy's turn to present Mr. Darcy with a ring, and her hands shook as she placed the band, encrusted with jewels and matching her own, on the finger of his left hand. She looked up into his eyes, and then wished she had not, for it made it that much harder to say what she must. She knew she blushed scarlet as she promised to worship his body with her own, and was mortified by the brilliant smile Mr. Darcy bestowed upon her as she said it.

Lizzy felt grateful when Fitzwilliam directed them to kneel, and she was therefore released from Mr. Darcy's gaze.

"Let us pray," Fitzwilliam intoned, "O eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; send thy blessing upon these thy servants, this Man and this Woman, whom we bless in thy Name..." Lizzy was thankful that she was kneeling as Fitzwilliam spoke the blessing, as she was sure that the enormity of the situation, that she was now, even if only in pretense, wed to Mr. Darcy, would have rendered her unable to support herself upon her legs. "...so these persons may surely perform and keep the vow and covenant betwixt them made, whereof these rings given and received are a token and pledge, and may ever remain in perfect love and peace together, and live according to thy laws; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Lizzy felt the tears well up in her eyes once again as Fitzwilliam indicated that they should rise, and Mr. Darcy's firm hands assisted her in doing so. Fitzwilliam joined their right hands together and addressed the congregation.

"Those whom god hath joined together let no man put asunder."

He then addressed Lizzy and Mr. Darcy, "Ye shall now seal thy covenant with a kiss."

Lizzy gasped at this, the most shocking of Miss Bingley's changes to the rites. Would she now be expected to actually kiss Mr. Darcy? In front of the whole assembly? It was one thing to repeat vows she meant not to honor, but to actually kiss Mr. Darcy? If her father - or worse, her mother - ever found out, she would be forced to marry him in earnest! She looked to Mr. Darcy to see what he intended to do, and was shocked that he smiled at her and leaned towards her as if he intended to actually do it, to really kiss her. As his face neared hers, Lizzy unconsciously tilted her head up towards him and suddenly realized how much she did truly want Mr. Darcy to kiss her. Her eyes fluttered closed, and just as she felt his warm breath upon her lips, they, and the entire congregation, were startled by a loud booming sound, and a shrill voice declaring, "I object to this marriage!"

Mr. Darcy jerked back from Lizzy as if he had been pulled by a string, and opening her eyes, Lizzy noted a keen look of regret on his face as he turned to face the objector, whom everyone knew at once was none other than the erstwhile queen, Miss Caroline Bingley.

Chapter Seventeen

"Seize her!" someone cried out, and Lizzy looked to see that it was Moira. Two centaurs stepped forward immediately and grabbed Caroline by the arms, and she struggled violently in their grasp. Mr. Darcy caught Lizzy's hand, and of one accord they rushed up the aisle towards the captive.

"Do not hurt her!" Lizzy heard herself exclaim, eliciting surprised glances from many onlookers, including Mr. Darcy and Caroline herself.

"I do not need your compassion, Eliza Bennet!" Caroline sneered at her putative rival. "And let go of -"

But Caroline was not allowed to finish her intended demand on Lizzy to release Mr. Darcy's hand as she was interrupted by Moira in an angry, commanding voice. "Silence! You may well be thankful for Miss Elizabeth Bennet's compassion, Miss Bingley, as there are few others here willing to offer it. We have had enough of your tyranny and you are henceforth banished forever from this land."

"Banished? Tyranny?" Caroline sputtered. "You traitor! How dare you call me a tyrant when you know very well that everything I have ever done as queen of Darcinia has been with your assistance, and usually at your urging?"

The crowd fell silent as Caroline's accusations echoed through the church, and every eye darted from Caroline to Moira and back again. Lizzy was aghast - Moira had encouraged Caroline in her machinations against Lizzy and Mr. Darcy? Lizzy turned to look at Mr. Darcy. His face was grim, his smile completely gone, and his lips, which Lizzy had so lately been tempted to kiss, were pressed into a frown.

"I believe you owe me and... my wife an explanation," Mr. Darcy said to Moira, holding tighter to Lizzy's hand and drawing her close to his side.

"I do not owe anyone anything," Moira hissed. "After all the damage humans have caused to our beautiful land for centuries, you have merited no such consideration. All that remains now is to conduct the three of you back to the portal to your world, and see that you leave - immediately."

Lizzy gasped. "You know the way back to Netherfield? Why did you not tell us this yesterday?"

Moira was silent, not deigning to answer until the faun Derbyshire stepped forward, his brother Pemberley hovering close behind. "Moira, I think the least we owe them is an explanation. Whatever the queen... er, Miss Bingley has done, whatever other humans have done to us in the past, Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet have done nothing to us, and have even showed a willingness to assist us in any way they could. You dishonor them, and all of us by refusing to tell them the truth about all that they have unwittingly endured for our sakes," Derbyshire said gravely.

Moira glowered at Derbyshire, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy and Caroline all in turn. "Very well," she snarled, "But let us return to the palace. This is not the place for such a scene."

As if they had all been holding their breath and had now begun to breathe again, the crowd began to murmur, and everyone filed out of the church, the three humans, attended closely by a few grim faced Darcinians, following closely behind Moira and the two faun brothers back up the lane to the palace. The crowd that had cheered so vociferously during the wedding procession watched in a confused silence. Moira led them straight to the throne room, which Mr. Darcy recognized as the ballroom at Pemberley, where she leaped up onto the throne and sat up proudly, rustling her wings into position and wrapping her tail around her leonine legs. Behind her, the stained glass window that the fallen queen had been so proud of now sported a jagged hole in the panel which had represented Caroline Bingley's face . Members of the palace staff quickly appeared with chairs, and the principal victims of the conspiracy to be unfolded were allowed to sit, while a huge crowd of Darcinian citizens packed the room behind them, standing quietly and nervously to hear what the sphinx had to say.

When everyone was settled, Moira began to speak. "You have demanded an explanation for the... suffering you perceive I have inflicted upon you," she said, looking pointedly at Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. "Every feeling revolts at the idea of justifying myself to you humans, but as I have further expectations of you, which I will explain later, I suppose I must condescend to do so." Here she paused and took a deep breath. "Humans have never been good for Darcinia."

Moira then proceeded to relate the same history that she had shared with Lizzy as they had walked towards the palace that morning, dwelling on the cruelty of some of the human rulers who had reigned there, and the havoc wreaked upon the country by the volatile weather often caused by human emotions. "You must be an inherently dishonest race," she added as an aside. "There have been very few humans who have come here who have, like Elizabeth Bennet, been honest and open about their feelings. Most humans, in my experience, have something they are hiding."

Mr. Darcy bristled at this, and Lizzy thought she heard him mutter something about abhorring disguise, and not agreeing that to hide one's emotions was a deceitful act.

As she finished her explanation about the effect of humans on the climate of Darcinia, Moira explained that she had spent centuries trying to understand the phenomenon, and how to counteract it. "I discovered that if another human with balancing emotions came through the portal, and the two were then to leave Darcinia together, a balance in the weather would return. So, sentries were placed in the grove where the portal is, and whenever a new human came here and disrupted our land, I was alerted at once. I would befriend them to discover all I could about them, and also figure out who among their acquaintances in the human world could provide the necessary balance. Then, a way needed to be found to lure the other person here."

"It was particularly easy in Miss Bingley's case, as her repressed emotions, which I was easily able to convince her to reveal, were intimately connected with the person whose presence would bring balance. I... suggested to Miss Bingley that if she could lure Mr. Darcy here, he would fall in love with her, and they could be married."

Mr. Darcy stiffened, and glared at Caroline, who turned her back on him in a huff, but he did not say a word to her. "What does any of this have to do with Miss Bennet? Why did you make her a part of this?" he asked Moira.

Moira chuckled her purring chuckle. "Can you not guess? Miss Bennet's presence was required for several reasons, but mainly, she was a lure to bring you here. Miss Bingley perceived your attachment to Elizabeth Bennet, and though the event did not occur as originally planned, we were ultimately successful in achieving the desired outcome; you did follow Elizabeth Bennet here."

"We were playing a stupid game," Mr. Darcy muttered again, and Lizzy noted that he was blushing as much as she knew she was. He then asked aloud, "So why keep Miss Bennet here? Once I had arrived, why did you not send her back again?"

"We needed to keep her here in order to keep you here. If I had shown you the way back, you would have just gone with her, and as I have explained, it was imperative that you wait until you could leave with Miss Bingley."

"You could have just explained that to me in the first place," Mr. Darcy replied through gritted teeth.

"And you would have stayed and done what we wanted? Forgive me if I doubt it."

"You misjudge Mr. Darcy, he would have helped you if you had asked him," Lizzy heard herself proclaim indignantly.

She was rewarded by a squeeze of the hand and a tender smile from that gentleman.

"Thank you, Mrs. Darcy," he whispered, causing Lizzy to blush furiously and avert her gaze.

"Well then, if you and Miss Bingley were so convinced that I would come here for Miss Bennet, why did you think that I would be willing to marry Miss Bingley?" Mr. Darcy then asked Moira.

Moira offered a smug little smile. "I did not. In fact, I was sure that you would not. I only convinced Miss Bingley that you would, so she would bring you here. I told her that if she gave you a love potion, you would fall in love with her and would do anything she asked of you."

"Yes, and then you gave the potion to her to give to him!" Miss Bingley blurted out. "I saw it, you back stabbing witch!"

Lizzy and Mr. Darcy gaped at each other. "That was a love potion?" Lizzy cried, feeling bitter disappointment at the thought that Mr. Darcy's affectionate behavior towards her had been influenced by the potion she had given him. "You told me it was a healing elixir!"

"I did not lie to you, Elizabeth Bennet, it is a healing elixir. It is not truly a love potion, it just so happens that it has the effect of intensifying emotions. If it has made Mr. Darcy love you, that is only because he had feelings for you already."

Mr. Darcy stared at his hands in his lap, a thoughtful expression on his face, when he heard Moira's explanation. Lizzy blushed and kept her eyes trained on the floor, and Caroline Bingley fumed in a jealous rage. Moira continued, "In the event that Miss Bingley had given it to him, it would only have intensified whatever feelings he already had for her."

"Indifference," Lizzy and Mr. Darcy said together, causing Miss Bingley to glare at them both.

Mr. Darcy met her glare with his own stern stare. "What could you have been thinking, Miss Bingley? You must have realized that no wedding ceremony taking place here would be binding in England. What would have been the point of tricking me - or drugging me - into marrying you here? You would have gained nothing."

At first Miss Bingley did not seem inclined to answer. Finally, withering under Mr. Darcy's stare, she turned away haughtily and said, "It would not have mattered whether or not this ceremony was legal. If the love potion had worked, you would have wanted to marry me again when we returned home. And anyway, after the... wedding night here, I knew that your sense of honor would force you to renew your vows in a legally recognized ceremony."

Lizzy could not refrain from a shocked gasp - to think that Miss Bingley would do such scandalous a thing!

"I can see that I will have to be very careful around you in future, Miss Bingley," Mr. Darcy replied, continuing, "And I think you should know, I have only ever esteemed you as the sister of my friend, and never have considered you as a possible wife, nor ever will I. Now, in light of all that has transpired here, I have lost what respect I formerly felt for you."

"But you will consider Eliza Bennet, a nothing, a nobody, with no fortune, connections, or social standing? What does she have that I do not?" Caroline cried desperately.

"Myriad charms that someone with your limited understanding of not only me, but also of what constitutes a truly worthy character could never hope to acquire," Mr. Darcy said coldly, and then he turned away from her, refusing to acknowledge her further, and leaving Caroline with all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.

Something was not adding up for Lizzy. "Why did you lead all of the Darcinians to believe that I was some sort of malevolent creature who would threaten their queen?" she asked Moira.

The sphinx's eyes twinkled at this question. "There was more than one reason that we needed to bring Mr. Darcy here, and once again, you were to provide the bait to force him to do what I wanted him to do."

"And what was that?" Mr. Darcy asked dryly.

"Kill the P.R.O.B.," Moira said bluntly, unleashing a torrent of murmuring from the crowd.

"What?" Mr. Darcy nearly shouted, astonished.

"You see, I have also been studying the P.R.O.B. for centuries, and it has been a fearsome threat to us which we have been unable to fight against. When Miss Bingley came, and the winter came with her, I had an excellent opportunity to study the beast quite closely because the cold made it very sluggish - it could barely move. Unfortunately, even with such an advantage over it, we still could not kill it, as weapons were of no use against it. We managed to lure it to the cave in the ravine, where I labored to discover how to defeat it. Finally, I was struck with a brilliant idea - I needed to know what, or who, was the threat to the beast's heart's desire. As a brute monster, I knew that continued survival would be all that it ever wanted, so I held a mirror up to the beast, and it looked into its own future, and the form of its ultimate defeat became clear; your head appeared on the body of the beast, Mr. Darcy, and I was elated to see it. I recognized your face from the drawings and paintings that Miss Bingley had commissioned of you based on sketches that she herself had made - paintings that for years have graced every home in the land so that every Darcinian would be sure to know you on sight if you ever came to Darcinia."

"Again I must ask, what has any of this to do with Miss Bennet?"

"Come now, Mr. Darcy, you cannot think that I will believe that you would have fought the beast if I had simply asked you," Moira said with a disdainful sneer.

"No, I would not," Mr. Darcy replied with his most haughty inflection.

"Well then, you must see that we needed some sort of incentive for you to take on the beast; to wit, Elizabeth Bennet. I caused her to be regarded as an enemy of Darcinia so that I could be sure that if she arrived here, any Darcinian whom she met would be eager to turn her in immediately, and then we could set her up as bait."

Lizzy bristled at this, and Mr. Darcy patted her hand reassuringly before turning a glare upon Moira. "And what if I had failed? What if I had not killed the P.R.O.B.?" Mr. Darcy snarled at Moira.

"I felt certain that you would succeed. And I would have flown you to safety if I thought things were going badly - we needed you alive, but you must see that I had to let you try. We needed the monster to be killed, and I could think of no other way."

"And what of Mrs... Miss... Elizabeth? If I had failed, what would have happened to her? Would you have carried her to safety?" Mr. Darcy practically shouted at the sphinx, irritated by her cavalier attitude.

"No, that would not have been possible," Moira shrugged. "She would have been eaten, along with Pemberley, the faun."

A collective gasp rose from the crowd of Darcinians, and Lizzy felt her stomach turn over with a sickly lurch. She could see that even Miss Bingley was aghast.

"You are the monster here!" Mr. Darcy shouted, and Moira merely shrugged again, the tip of her tail flicking carelessly about her feet. Lizzy looked at Mr. Darcy with wide eyes, noting that he was pale, and his countenance grim. He was clearly struggling to control himself, and ran his fingers through his hair several times in agitation before taking Lizzy's hand firmly in his. She held his hand in both of hers, trying to soothe his anger in spite of her own feelings of rage, and a little fear. After all, they were now under Moira's power, and without her help, they may never return home; it would not do to antagonize her. Lizzy wanted nothing more than for Moira to have done and let them go - the things she was relating - confessing, really - were things that Lizzy would just as soon not know.

"What of the Cult of Eliza?" Mr. Darcy asked when he had collected himself, eliciting another wave of murmurs from the crowd.

"When you have a ruler who is so disliked -" Miss Bingley snorted disdainfully at such a description of herself, "there will inevitably be those who band together in their dissent. I allowed this to happen, and ingratiated myself with the rebels, so that if they managed to find the two of you first, I would still be able to locate you and carry out my plans. Also, they provided an excellent means to arm you with the sword, and Miss Bennet with the potion that would enhance the feelings I believed you already had for her, increasing the likelihood that you would be willing to do battle with the beast for her sake. As long as the rebels did not know how to help you leave Darcinia, I did not worry that they could do any damage to my plans."

"You are despicable," Mr. Darcy said, drawing Lizzy nearer to him in a protective gesture.

"It may seem that way to you, Mr. Darcy, but I have done what I have done for the good of Darcinia. We have suffered enough at the hands of humans that I cannot repent of any of my actions."

"Of course - Moira: 'personifying fate and necessity.' What's in a name, indeed." Mr. Darcy murmured, fixing her with a steely gaze.

"I see you have heard the old tales in your land as well. Some say that your name is your destiny, making it all the more appalling that every Darcinian born in over a century has been given a name reflective only of the vanity and desires of a usurping queen who is not one of us. My mother named me for the goddess in the hopes that I would be able to change the fate of our land, and end the recurring upheavals caused by incursions of humans; she hoped that I would have the strength to do what was necessary to protect our people. So you must understand that I have acted out of necessity. You can have no real grievance. After all, you are all still alive, and will shortly be returned to your world."

"Yes, and the sooner, the better," Mr. Darcy said, and Lizzy was amused to see Miss Bingley nod in agreement.

"All in due time, Mr. Darcy, but first you must let me tell you the two things I want you all to do."

"After all you have done, you dare to ask favors of us, Moira?" Lizzy cried indignantly.

"You are perhaps justified in feeling offense that I would make such a request, Elizabeth Bennet, but you will find that what I have to ask is not a very great imposition."

"What do you want from us?" Mr. Darcy asked warily.

"Firstly, when you return home I would like you to permanently close the portal between our worlds so that no other humans can ever come here."

"Gladly. How do we do that?"

"It is very simple, all you must do is break the latch on the wardrobe after you have returned, and the pathway will be sealed forever."

"If that is all it takes, why have you not asked this of previous visitors?"

"I have. I have asked every person who has come here to do it, but inevitably they decide once they are home that to leave the portal open would do no very great harm; many of them, I believe, think they might like to return some day."

"I cannot think why," Caroline muttered under her breath.

"I am now asking you to do it, though I do not expect you to keep your word - no other human ever has," Moira said bitterly.

"You misjudge Mr. Darcy again, Moira. You can trust him to do it," Lizzy said, earning her another smile from her temporary husband.

"What is the other thing you want?" Mr. Darcy asked.

"Before you leave, I want you all to drink a forgetfulness potion."

"Agreed!" Miss Bingley blurted out.

Lizzy and Mr. Darcy looked at each other with stricken expressions. They did not want to forget. They had each come to know and understand the other in a way that they had not been able to in their world, and they were each loath to give up their newfound... esteem, and... friendship.

Before they could say anything, though, Moira spoke again, "Of course, you must understand that though I have couched this as a request, you will not be given a choice. You will not be allowed to leave without drinking it."
Lizzy turned to Moira with a question. "Will this be a potion that will only take effect after we have slept?"

"Yes, Miss Bennet. That way you will be able to return home, and, I hope, remember to break the latch of the wardrobe. Then when you go to sleep tonight in your world, the potion will take effect, and tomorrow none of you will remember any of this ever happened."

"But how will the potion work in our world? You told me that Darcinian potions would be as nothing more than scented water if brought through the wardrobe."

"It will work because you will drink it while you are here, so it will enter your systems in Darcinia. In addition, it is made with plants that, my research has found, grow in both our world and yours."

Lizzy nodded thoughtfully. Sadly, it all made sense. Mr. Darcy reached over and took both of her hands in his, lifting them each to his lips to kiss. Lizzy heard Miss Bingley snort derisively behind her.

"I am sorry, Miss... Mrs. Darcy, but I understand why it has to be this way, do not you?" Mr. Darcy said in an intimate voice just above a whisper.

Lizzy could not speak a reply, she just nodded and blinked away the tears that formed in her eyes.

Posted on: 2009-07-03

Chapter Eighteen

As no one had any further questions, and Moira had nothing else she was willing to share with them, Lizzy, Mr. Darcy, and Caroline Bingley were each led back to their chambers to dress in the clothes they had been wearing when they came through the wardrobe the previous day. Lizzy wistfully removed the beautiful wedding gown and donned her own newly cleaned dress, one which she had always liked, but which now seemed very drab. She smiled at herself ruefully in the mirror, taking comfort in the fact that she could not regret that which she did not remember. She heaved a sigh as she removed her slippers from the drawstring bag that was somewhat the worse for wear after all of her adventures. It seemed such a shame to leave behind the lovely boots, so perfect for her rambles about the countryside. After all, they were of no use to anyone in Darcinia, but on the morrow she would awaken with no recollection of where they came from, so they must be left behind. She sat patiently while the fairies unpinned her beautiful hair, and then she redressed it herself so that when she emerged from the wardrobe it would look the same as it always did.

Lizzy removed another item from the bag that gave her pause: the potion bottle. She reflected on what Moira had said about the potion, that all it could do was intensify emotions that already existed, apparently even more so than just being in Darcinia would do. Did this mean that Mr. Darcy had felt some kind of attraction for her before he even came to Darcinia? She had been bewildered by his behavior ever since she had found him in the grove, dousing himself under the water pump. That he had feelings for her now was obvious. He had taken a rather large dose of the potion. And what of her own feelings? She had been in Darcinia even longer than Mr. Darcy had, and she had also consumed a small dose of the potion. What were her feelings? She had to admit that the one feeling she felt had intensified was a sense of confusion about Mr. Darcy. But Moira had said that feelings could change once a better understanding of a person had been gained, which made sense, naturally, it would be that way on either side of the portal between worlds. All Lizzy knew was that Mr. Darcy was a much more pleasant person to know in Darcinia, not haughty or disdainful, and she was sorry that by morning she would not remember that; she would not remember how kind and solicitous he had been, or even that he had saved her life. Her only consolation was to remind herself again that she could not regret what she did not remember.

Lizzy said her farewells to the fairies who had attended her, and went to meet the rest of her party in the hall. She looked around her, taking in the beauty of the place, wondering if she would ever see the real Pemberley, and if she did, what could possibly be the occasion for her to be there, so far from her home.

Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley were waiting for her by the front door, the former pensive, the latter sulky. Before she could join them, however, she heard a voice frantically calling her name, and the sound of rapid hoof beats clattering down the stairs. She turned around to see Pemberley the faun careening towards her, just as he tried to stop, his hoofs sliding across the slippery marble floor.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you were not going to leave without saying goodbye?" Pemberley cried.

"I am sorry, Pemberley, I did not know where to find you, and there seems to be a sense of urgency attached to our departure. But I am glad to see you - I have you to thank for my safety. If you had not so bravely defied the order to turn me in, I might not be alive. I will be eternally grateful," Lizzy told the blushing faun, though she knew that in this case, eternal gratitude would last only until she went to bed that night. On impulse, she bent over and kissed Pemberley on the cheek.

"Oh, Miss Elizabeth Bennet! You.. you honor me!" Pemberley gasped with surprised pleasure, and then, unsure of the proper response, bowed deeply, and then embraced Lizzy around the waist in a fervent hug. Lizzy was a trifle embarrassed by the affection of the faun, especially when she saw the look of humor Mr. Darcy was trying to hide as he witnessed the emotional scene. Miss Bingley's rolling eyes were easily ignored.

When Lizzy was able to finally release herself from Pemberley's embrace, and they had each thanked the other several more times for their respective heroic actions, Pemberley moved over to Mr. Darcy to thank him as well, for saving not only himself, but the entire country. Being in complete awe of Mr. Darcy, and never having shared a congenial tea party with him, Pemberley was more able to restrain his physical expression of gratitude, and Mr. Darcy managed to escape with only a series of low, reverent bows in his direction. Miss Bingley did not receive even the slightest acknowledgment from her former servant, and the three humans gradually extricated themselves from Pemberley's profuse thanks and made their way out the door.

At the bottom of the palace steps their escort awaited, consisting of a number of grim faced, bare chested centaurs who had discarded their English gentlemen's garb immediately when the queen who mandated such attire had been dethroned. Lizzy was embarrassed to see them; she had never seen a man's bare torso before, and found that she could not look at them without blushing. It crossed her mind to wonder, though, if human males had so much hair on their bodies, and she was further mortified when Mr. Darcy caught her in a speculative stare at his broad-chested physique.

The guard of centaurs seemed more menacing to Lizzy now, as if she and Mr. Darcy, along with Miss Bingley, were the ones to be guarded against, rather than the ones being protected. Lizzy noticed that Fitzwilliam was not among them; he had apparently taken Moira's explanation of the events of the last day - nay, the last century - rather hard, and had taken a private farewell from Mr. Darcy and gone off alone. The crowds had all dispersed, their joyful, celebratory mood from before the wedding of their two national heroes quite deflated by subsequent revelations. Moira was the only one who seemed pleased with the outcome of the day's events.

The distance to the grove was about three miles, they were informed, not a daunting walk for Lizzy (although Caroline grumbled about it a great deal, having now been forced into such unaccustomed exercise two days in a row), but she found herself unable to enjoy the beauty of the forest and the pleasant weather as she normally would have; her spirits as they set out with their grim escort were somewhat oppressed. However, Elizabeth Bennet was not formed for ill humor, and as she walked along beside Mr. Darcy, catching his tentative glances in her direction periodically, she could not help but feel a return to her usual good nature.

Caroline's grousing escalated after they had hiked up a rather steep hill, so Moira consented to call a halt for a few minutes for the humans, she sneeringly said, to rest. Lizzy had no need of rest after such a trifling exertion, though she suspected that her unusual stamina - after all, she had already walked a considerable distance that morning - to be the result of the few drops of the potion she had taken. Their party was scattered about in a small clearing at the top of the hill, and Lizzy walked apart from the others, climbing atop a rocky outcropping to take in the view afforded by their high vantage point. After a few moments of contemplating the beauty of the Darcinian landscape she heard footsteps on the rock behind her; turning, she saw Mr. Darcy climbing up to join her.

"Miss... Mrs... Elizabeth," he began, with a shy smile, "I hope I am not interrupting your reverie."

"You are, but it does not follow that the interruption is unwelcome," Lizzy returned his smile with a brighter one of her own.

Mr. Darcy walked up beside her and stood looking out over the hilly terrain for a moment before turning to face Lizzy. He took both of her hands in his, and looked very much as if he had something to say, but did not know how to begin. He cleared his throat, and looked down at their joined hands. "Elizabeth," he began tentatively, "Mrs. Darcy," he continued, giving her a mischievous sidelong glance, "I feel there is so much I need to say to you, so many things have happened... I know not where to begin. It probably does not matter - by tomorrow you will not remember any of this, much less what I say to you now, but... you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Whatever Lizzy had been expecting him to say, it was not this! She colored and was silent, he seemed to feel this encouraging, and continued.

"I realize, from the things you said to me yesterday, that you cannot feel the same about me, and I am sure that you think that my feelings have been unduly influenced by the 'love potion' that you gave me when I was hurt, but I would be dishonest in saying that was so. Elizabeth, I think I loved you when we were at Netherfield, though I was not able to admit it to myself, much less you. There are certain things that are expected of me in that world, and loving you did not seem before to be compatible with society's expectations for a man in my position. I freely admit that it is a lonely position, and I have always expected it to remain so, even when and if I ever married. But I see things differently now, and though I realize that you do not return my affection at this time, and in any case, neither of us will ever be able to recall any of this, I have been encouraged by what has happened here. Would I be presuming too much in thinking that your opinion of me has improved, Mrs... Elizabeth?" Mr. Darcy clearly felt awkward; he was apprehensive about her answer, and he did not know what to call her - 'Mrs. Darcy' was not truly appropriate, but at such a moment to address her as 'Miss Bennet' would not do his feelings justice.

"It has, Mr. Darcy, very much," Lizzy shyly replied.

Mr. Darcy breathed a happy sigh. "Elizabeth, we have been in Darcinia for but a single day, and whatever the strange atmosphere of this land consists of, it has improved your opinion of me, and led me to acknowledge the strength of my feelings for you. Indeed, the moment when our pretended marriage ceremony was completed was the happiest moment of my life. I truly hope that someday in our real lives, I will feel that happy again, and for the same reason. I take heart in the change our feelings have undergone since we have arrived here; if so much can be accomplished in one Darcinian day, how much can be accomplished in several months in Hertfordshire? Bingley has no imminent plans to leave the country, and it is now my fervent hope that by being continuously thrown in company with each other, as we likely will be, even though we will not remember how we feel now, you will eventually come to know the truth about me, and my regard for you, and I will come to realize again that love is more important than any societal expectations can ever be. I hope that someday I can make you as in love with me, as I am with you, and we will have another wedding, in a real church, with a real minister, and surrounded by our family and friends."

Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion, seeing Lizzy's deep blush, continued in a rush, "I know that what I am saying to you is probably too much, I am being much to forward, but I hope you will forgive me for seizing this opportunity. Perhaps... perhaps even though we forget these events, some small impression will remain... I..." Mr. Darcy placed both of Lizzy's hands over his heart, and held them there. "You are too generous to trifle with me. Please, Elizabeth, tell me that you believe now that there is even the smallest chance that some day I really will be able to call you Mrs. Darcy."

Elizabeth, feeling all the more common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak, and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change during the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure, if a little agitation, his present assurances, that, though she was not quite so advanced in her affections as he, she felt an increasing regard for him which could some day become the kind of love he wished for and deserved. The happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before, and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Lizzy been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving how important she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

"You have made me so happy, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth!" Mr. Darcy concluded his amorous declaration, "And I promise you that one day I will make you this happy as well.

The pressing matter of their return to Netherfield at length intruded on their intimate conference, and Mr. Darcy offered his hand in assisting Lizzy to climb down from the rock to continue their journey home. He did not release her hand, continuing to hold it firmly in his as they rejoined the somber procession. For neither Lizzy or Mr. Darcy did it seem so somber any longer, and they were able to forget about where they were going, and the unfortunate amnesia that would soon afflict them and cause them to lose all recollection of their current happy state. Caroline Bingley looked on in disgust to see them walking hand in hand, heads bent towards each other as they talked with an ease and fluidity that they had never before experienced in tête-à-tête with each other.

All too soon they arrived at the clearing in the woods with the incongruous water pump. Someone produced three silver goblets and one of the centaurs filled them each with water from the pump. Then the potion, a sickly green substance contained in a vial carried on a chain around Moira's neck, was added, three drops in each goblet. Lizzy felt her stomach clench as she saw the water bubble for a few seconds, and a greenish vapor lift off the surface to be carried away by the breeze. She looked at her companions; Miss Bingley looked decidedly squeamish, and Mr. Darcy's mouth was set in a grim, hard line. Each of the three humans was given a goblet and ordered to drink. Miss Bingley gulped hers down immediately and threw her goblet to the ground as she gagged and coughed. Lizzy and Mr. Darcy smiled bravely at each other and held up their glasses as if to toast one another.

"Mr. Darcy, it has been a pleasure really knowing you," Lizzy declared meaningfully.

"Here's to you, Mrs. Darcy, and the hope for the future," Mr. Darcy said in response, and they both gulped down the grotesquely colored liquid, which to Lizzy's great surprise, was not too terribly vile, tasting like water in which brussels sprouts have been boiled. They handed their goblets back to the centaur, and turned to face Moira.

"Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy, it has been... an honor to know you," Moira said stiffly. "Miss Bingley, if you ever come here again..." The statement was left unfinished, but the intent was clear enough. Miss Bingley merely sniffed in disdain, and muttered to herself.

"How do we leave?" Lizzy asked when no one appeared as if they would explain.

"The same way you came," Moira said.

"No, that cannot be right - I tried to go back the way I came right after I arrived, and there was no way back," Lizzy said in confusion and dismay. The sudden thought that she may not be able to leave after all was disconcerting.

Moira chuckled. "I think that both you and Mr. Darcy have been the victims of unfortunate timing and coincidence. You see, the portal is only open when the wardrobe door is closed. I believe that you, Miss Bennet, must have tried to return at the exact moment when Mr. Darcy opened the wardrobe door to follow you. And if I am not mistaken, Mr. Darcy, you tried to retrace your steps as well?" The gentleman nodded his assent. "You must have tried to return just when Miss Bingley opened the door to follow you."

"But I followed Miss Bennet within seconds of her entry into the wardrobe, and when I arrived here, she was long gone," Mr. Darcy said, puzzled by this explanation.

"Seconds of your time, which I am certain by now you have realized passes at a very different rate than Darcinian time," was the smug response.

Miss Bingley turned on her heel and strode purposefully towards the trees, but her progress was arrested when a puzzled Mr. Darcy called out to her. "Miss Bingley, how in the world did you ever happen to find... this land... in the first place?" he asked.

"Yes, what were you doing in your wardrobe with the door shut?" Lizzy added.

Caroline Bingley rolled her eyes. "When we first came to Netherfield, I was trying to convince Charles that my wardrobe was insufficiently large to hold all of my dresses, and I stepped inside to illustrate a point. Charles closed the door on me as a joke," she said through gritted teeth. "I lost my balance, fell backwards, and landed here. It started to snow immediately, and suddenly I was surrounded by centaurs." She sneered at the centaurs who surrounded the clearing. "I spent several weeks here, and then Moira sent me back, armed with an apparently useless love potion, which I was instructed to use as a perfume whenever I was around... you, Mr. Darcy." Caroline Bingley glared at Moira, Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy each in turn. "When I arrived back in the wardrobe, and Charles let me out, he was still laughing - only seconds had passed for him. Needless to say, I found ample room for all my clothes after that." Lizzy and Mr. Darcy exchanged amused glances, but were considerate enough not to laugh aloud as Miss Bingley continued. "After all, it would not do for Charles to have discovered the way to Darcinia through too close a scrutiny of my wardrobe."

"I do not think Bingley's presence here would have had any affect on the country, from what Moira has told us. I know no one whose emotions are more freely expressed than his," Mr. Darcy said with a wry smile. Lizzy could not suppress a small giggle at the thought of the contrast between Mr. Darcy's repressed bearing, and his friend's easy, open manners. The thought of Mr. Bingley's obvious affections, though, reminded Lizzy toward whom those affections were directed, and she realized with a pang that she had barely thought of poor, sick Jane since they had departed on their odyssey that morning, and she suddenly felt in a great rush to return to Jane's side immediately.

"Well then, shall we?" Mr. Darcy said, more cheerfully than he felt, and he took Lizzy's hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "Come, Mrs. Darcy," he added with a grin, and Lizzy replied with a laugh while Miss Bingley stalked off towards the trees. Mr. Darcy and Lizzy made to follow her when Moira called out to stop them, and two centaurs moved to block Miss Bingley's path so abruptly that she nearly collided with them.

"Mr. Darcy, Miss Bingley, do not forget that you must leave together or our climate will be forever unstable!" Moira said.

Miss Bingley cast her former advisor a hateful glance, as if to say that she did not much care what happened to Darcinia once she was gone, but when Mr. Darcy offered her his arm, she took it without hesitation.

The three of them, Miss Bingley practically dragging Mr. Darcy by his arm, and Mr. Darcy gripping tightly to Lizzy's hand, entered the woods. Just before they started to push their way between the closely spaced pines that marked the entrance to the portal, Mr. Darcy stopped, and turned to face Lizzy with a rakish grin.

"By the by, Mrs. Darcy, I spoke to Fitzwilliam. He is likely to be on the new governing council, and has agreed to propose to the council that they change the name of their country."

"Oh? What will it be called?" Lizzy asked warily, not used to seeing such mischievous mirth contained in his startlingly blue eyes.

"I strongly recommended Lizziland," he said as he unleashed a hearty laugh, pulling Lizzy after him as Miss Bingley dragged him through the darkness that opened up before them.

All three left Darcinia without a backward glance.

Chapter Nineteen

It was not long before they felt that they were pushing their way through rows of hanging gowns instead of pine boughs; the trip home from Darcinia seemed much shorter to Lizzy than her journey there had been. Their arrival back in Miss Bingley's wardrobe was announced with finality when Mr. Darcy's boot toe struck the door. Miss Bingley fumbled to open it immediately, but Mr. Darcy stopped her.

"Miss Bingley, do not forget, we are meant to be playing a game of sardines. We cannot leave the wardrobe until Charles finds us," he reminded her in a whisper.

Lizzy could not hear what Miss Bingley said in response, but she could tell from the tone of her grumbling that she was not well pleased with the prospect of remaining there. Lizzy was pleased to discover that Mr. Darcy had not released her hand, and did not seem inclined to do so for the present. As they all stood there in silence for some minutes, Lizzy thought about all the things that Mr. Darcy had done for her, not just saving her life, but the way he had cared for her the whole time they were in Darcinia, that his every thought almost had been for her comfort and safety. She thought about how much she had truly come to enjoy his company, and that she had made such amazing discoveries; he had a sense of humor, and was quite witty, he had such integrity, he had such a way about him... Lizzy was astonished to discover that she was, in fact, already in love with Mr. Darcy, and not because of any potion, or anything odd about Darcinia that might affect how she felt. Her eyes had been opened to the real man, the one who was hidden behind what she now recognized was a wall of reserve from shyness, not hauteur. She had been allowed to seen the genuine Mr. Darcy, not the one he presented to the world to protect himself from fortune hunters and socially ambitious leeches like Caroline Bingley. She had seen all of this because he had let her - he had let her in behind the wall. Lizzy was overcome for a moment with a great sense of sadness that she was about to lose her Mr. Darcy, and would have to go back to the old one whom she did not like - and the old Lizzy, as well, whom she also could not think of with much complacency at the moment. The old Lizzy had some flaws she had never noticed before, implacable resentment, prejudice, and too much pride in her perceived ability to judge people, and she felt with some regret that the Lizzy she had been before was not as contented as she could be if she would just... be more liberal minded about a few things. She sighed, and felt Mr. Darcy squeeze her hand.

Lizzy suddenly realized that she was about to lose a precious opportunity, and just as she heard the door to Miss Bingley's bedchamber open, heralding their imminent discovery by Mr. Bingley, she leaned close to Mr. Darcy, stood on her tiptoes, and breathed into his ear, "Thank you so much, Mr. Darcy, for everything. I... I think I love you, too," and then placed the lightest of kisses on his cheek. Almost before she could remove herself to a more discreet distance from Mr. Darcy's person, though without releasing her fast hold of his hand, the door of the wardrobe was flung open and Mr. Bingley faced them all with a smile.

"I see I have lost, as usual!" he cried jovially, and the three occupants of the wardrobe stepped out, Miss Bingley with great alacrity, Mr. Darcy with with as much stately dignity as the action of removing oneself from a wardrobe can allow, and Lizzy with the assistance of Mr. Darcy's hand, and a slight blush upon her cheeks from the warm gaze he bestowed upon her as she stepped down to the floor.

Mr. Bingley chattered and laughed amiably, though without much notice from his three companions, and then alerted them all that it was time to dress for dinner.

"Would you all be so kind as to leave my chamber," Miss Bingley said coldly, and Charles immediately strode out the door. Lizzy followed him more slowly, and was startled, just as she reached the doorway, by a loud bang sound from behind her. She turned to ascertain the cause, and saw Miss Bingley looking with grim satisfaction at the broken latch on her wardrobe, shattered by Mr. Darcy. The gentleman said nothing, but bowed stiffly to Miss Bingley and followed Lizzy out the door.

Lizzy's room and Mr. Darcy's were in opposite directions down the corridor, so he could not walk her to her door, as he desperately wished to do, without possibly raising a few eyebrows. Therefore, they said wordless good-byes to each other and went their separate ways, feeling intensely that their separation from that moment would be permanent, until such possible time in the future when they might reach a similar accord once again. Both realized that if they did not behave towards each other in the same manner they had done before that fateful game of sardines, suspicions might be roused regarding what had happened inside Miss Bingley's wardrobe, which would not reflect well on Lizzy's reputation.

When Lizzy entered the drawing room before dinner she found the two gentlemen, and only the two gentlemen, waiting for her. This was not so unusual; Miss Bingley habitually kept everyone waiting for her as she labored at her toilette, but Lizzy herself was rather late in making her appearance. She had not gone immediately to dress; she had gone instead to the bedside of her sister, whom she had found still sleeping. Lizzy was aware that even given the time spent in playing the game she had not been gone a long time from her sister's side, relative to Netherfield time, but she longed to see her again and see for herself that Jane was not aware that anything of moment had occurred. Lizzy was both disappointed and relieved to see that her sister slept. The urge to confide in Jane about what had happened was almost unbearable, but to share such a tale was inconceivable. Not only would Jane never believe it - no rational person would, after all - but as Lizzy herself was destined to forget it, to relate the whole to Jane would be an act of madness. So, Lizzy only sat quietly at her sister's side, gazing fondly at the angelic face upon the pillow, and contemplating the future that perhaps lay in store for the two of them, one as Mrs. Bingley, and the other as Mrs. Darcy. Lizzy smiled at the thought and went to her own room to dress, and it was only after spending a much longer time than was her wont at her toilette that Lizzy thus made her entrance to the drawing room, only to be informed that Miss Bingley would not be joining the party for dinner.

"Caroline claims to have a headache - which she attributes to having spent too long in her wardrobe waiting for me to discover all of you - so, she has gone to bed already," Mr. Bingley said with a laugh. "I do not wonder at it; the smell of her perfume in her chamber is rather overwhelming, and I find it even more remarkable that the two of you are not also suffering from headaches. I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth, that I included her room in the game, for you could not have known what you were getting yourself into."

Lizzy replied that she was not the least affected by the exposure, and accepted Mr. Bingley's arm as escort into the dining parlor.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with Mr. Bingley forced to carry the burden of the conversation in the absence of his sister's constant attempts at drawing Mr. Darcy out, and as a consequence of Lizzy's uncommon reticence. Mr. Bingley noticed her withdrawn demeanor.

"You are very quiet this evening Miss Elizabeth. Are you certain that our game this afternoon did not give you a headache? I hope that you have not contracted your sister's cold - what would your mother say if a second of her daughters fell ill while visiting my house? Then I suppose we would have to have your sister Mary in to nurse you both!" Mr. Bingley teased.

Lizzy assured him that she was quite well, and that she was suffering neither from a cold nor any ill effects of the game. She could not meet Mr. Darcy's eyes as she spoke about it, but she could honestly tell herself that she felt that though the sojourn through the wardrobe had indeed affected her, and the effects were all quite positive, if regretfully temporary.

"I think perhaps I have had too much of rainy days of late," Lizzy offered as an explanation for what she knew was uncharacteristic taciturnity on her part.

"I am in complete sympathy with you, Miss Elizabeth; the rain has a dampening effect on the spirit as well as the ground, I am sure. I much prefer to be out of doors myself, and I know Darcy shares your proclivity for nature as well."

Mr. Bingley then went on at great length, without a word from either Lizzy or Mr. Darcy, about the abundance of splendidly wild scenery around Mr. Darcy's home, Pemberley, complete with wishes, on Lizzy's behalf, that she should some day be afforded an opportunity to see that part of the country.

Lizzy kept her concentration on her food until Mr. Bingley exclaimed, "I say, Darcy, that is a very fine ring you are wearing - I have never seen it before. Is it not rather splendid Miss Elizabeth?"

Lizzy looked up in horror at the realization that she had not removed her wedding ring before she left Darcinia, and evidently, neither had Mr. Darcy. She met his eye, seeing the same panic there that was causing her own heart to race, just as Mr. Bingley cried out, "Why, Miss Elizabeth, you have an identical ring! That is an extraordinary coincidence, is it not? How did the two of you come to own identical rings?" Mr. Bingley then actually took Lizzy's hand in his own and held it near his face so that he might examine her ring more closely. Lizzy herself had not had much opportunity to inspect her wedding ring - so much had happened from the moment she and Mr. Darcy had exchanged vows and rings that she had scarcely had a moment to scrutinize the delicate, bejeweled band. She surreptitiously joined Mr. Bingley in his examination, and was enchanted by the sapphires and emeralds that encircled the gold band, sparkling in the light of the candles on the dining table. She had never owned such a fine piece of jewelry, and thought it likely that she never would; she had no idea how to explain her possession of it, nor the 'extraordinary coincidence' of Mr. Darcy wearing its mate. She looked at Mr. Darcy pleadingly, hoping that he would have the presence of mind to account for it.

"Have you never seen one, Bingley? I believe it is a common enough item, though perhaps not around here. Have you any family from Derbyshire, Miss Elizabeth?"

Lizzy was not certain what his purpose was behind the question, but she answered with alacrity, "I have an aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, who spent some years of her youth there, in a village called... Lampton, perhaps?" Lizzy had heard her aunt talk of the village, but could not be certain of the name. The effect of the name she gave on Mr. Darcy's countenance was a startling one.

"Could that be Lambton, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yes, I think that is right, Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Darcy smiled, his face brightened by an expression of ease which, before her journey with him through Darcinia, Lizzy would have been shocked to witness.

"Why, that is not five miles from Pemberley! I could venture a guess that you received that ring from your aunt; there is a jeweler in Lambton who does very fine work, though he perhaps lacks the creativity to make each piece original. Still, it is remarkable that we should both be wearing identical rings, is it not?"

"Remarkable," Lizzy agreed, and looked down at her plate again to hide her smile, his 'explanation' was clever, and did not contain any outright untruths that she could identify, although she could not vouch for his statements regarding the creativity of jewelers in Lambton. She was amused at his erroneous speculation that her aunt could ever own such an obviously expensive piece of jewelry.

"It almost looks like a wedding ring," Bingley said, his continued study of the ring on Lizzy's finger causing him to miss the suppressed humor barely concealed by his two companions. "Of course, yours is clearly a gentleman's ring, Darcy, from the size of it, and who ever heard of a man wearing a wedding ring?" he continued, finally releasing Lizzy's hand, and looking up at his friend. "I am certain I have never seen you wear it before."

"I have never worn it before today. I have it on now to remind myself to write a letter to my jeweler in London; I am thinking of having it made into a pendant for Georgiana," Darcy explained, glancing quickly at Lizzy's face and seeing a clouded expression there.

"Remarkable," was Mr. Bingley's final comment on the matter, and he allowed the subject to drop, to the relief of both Lizzy and her erstwhile husband, while he moved on with characteristic cheer to another topic.

As they were such a small party, with only one lady in attendance, when dinner was completed, the gentlemen rose to accompany Lizzy to the drawing room without lingering over a glass of port. She urged them to stay, saying that she wanted to check on her sister's condition, and would join them in the drawing room for a while afterward if her sister still slept comfortably. After receiving the best wishes of both men for Jane's continued improvement, Lizzy ran up the stairs to her sister's room, desperate for some time alone to think.

As soon as she had ascertained that Jane had not awakened and did not need her attention, Lizzy sat down to think of how best to deal with her new dilemma. She had no idea how to dispose of the ring. That she should keep it never entered her head - as soon as she awoke the next morning, she would wonder where it came from, and would be positive that it was not hers! But what to do with it? She could not hide it; if she hid it among her own things, she would be sure to find it when she returned home, if not before, and if she hid it at Netherfield, she ran the risk that someone there would find it, which would be worse. If a servant found it, and handed it over to Mr. Bingley, he would certainly know whose it was after the incident in the dining room. Lizzy could only imagine the scene that would ensue if Mr. Bingley tried to return it to her, while she insisted vehemently that it was not hers. Mr. Darcy would be drawn in as well, she was sure, and he would also have no recollection of owning such an item, and indubitably all three of them would be perplexed at the event.

Lizzy wondered what Mr. Darcy planned to do with his ring, for a man of his understanding would see as well as she could what problems would arise from keeping it. Lizzy took off the ring and held it in the palm of her hand, turning her wrist slightly back and forth to allow the brilliant stones to reflect the glow from the candle beside Jane's bed. Close examination revealed an inscription on the inside, in tiny script - 'Eliza Bennet & The Darcy - United at last, and forever'. Lizzy had to laugh at the thought of yet another job that the elves must have had to complete very late the night before - unless, as was entirely possible, the rings had been made and engraved before she and Mr. Darcy ever set foot in Darcinia, in anticipation of the event that the Cult of Eliza believed - and rightly, as it turned out - eventually would occur.

Lizzy's mind wandered back to the night before, and all of the strange, bewildering and even wonderful things that had happened, and she could not help wondering, if she went back to Darcinia now (though she knew it to be impossible, as Mr. Darcy had kept his word and sealed the portal), how much time would have passed there? Would their adventures still be seen as recent events, or would years have gone by since their departure? Could the entire escapade have already passed into legend? Lizzy chuckled at the thought of mother and father fauns tucking their young ones into bed at night and regaling them with stories of the day The Darcy slew the P.R.O.B. and rescued both Eliza Bennet and Pemberley the faun. She wondered how Miss Bingley would fare in those tales, and whether Pemberley would live out the rest of his life as a kind of legendary being himself, having been part of the whole story.
Lizzy's mind focused once again on the matter at hand, the ring resting in her palm. It was an exquisite piece, and Lizzy's heart ached at the thought of relinquishing it, as well as the thought of losing that which it symbolized while she slept that night. She regretfully and resolutely made her decision and went downstairs to seek an opportunity to speak privately with Mr. Darcy.

Chapter Twenty

The door to the library was open as Lizzy walked past, and she heard the sound of someone moving about in there; convinced that it must be Mr. Darcy, she entered the room, stopping just inside the doorway. Mr. Darcy was indeed there, alone, pacing in front of the hearth. He looked grimly determined, his expression almost fierce. Lizzy hesitated to interrupt his obvious state of concentration, and had almost determined not to do so when Mr. Darcy looked up and saw her standing there. His frown melted away instantly, and a smile overspread his visage. He was by her side in but a few long strides, taking her hand and leading her to sit in one of the enormous wing back chairs in front of the fire.
Now she was at the point of it, Lizzy felt most reluctant to say what she had to say, and turned to a different, but related topic.

"I almost chose to hide in here this afternoon," she said.

"This room seems rather devoid of hiding places," Mr. Darcy replied.

"Yes, that is why I did not, though I suppose the window seat would have sufficed. I think it would have been better if I had hidden here," Lizzy said, hoping her growing despondence did not show in either her face or her tone of voice.

"Do you really think that? I do not," Mr. Darcy said, reaching to take her hand, and willing her to look into his eyes.

"No? But -" Lizzy could not go on, tears were brimming in her eyes.

"Do not cry, Elizabeth," he soothed her. "I know what you are feeling, that all who have ever quoted that 'it is better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all' are fools, and I am inclined to agree with you to a certain extent. But consider that we will never know what we have lost, and take comfort in the hope that as we have loved each other once, we will do so again. For I do love you so, Elizabeth!" Mr. Darcy kissed her hand very gently, and then allowed her to draw it away from him to pull the ring from her reticule.

"I... I am afraid I cannot keep this, Mr. Darcy, but I thought perhaps I could give it to you," Lizzy said resolutely, and then cutting off any response he might make, she hurried onward. "I imagine there must be a collection of jewels in your family, to be passed on to your sister, or... or... your wife," Lizzy blushed at the word, "I figured that you could add these to your collection, and even if you come across them at some future time, and do not recognize them, it will not signify - I am sure you cannot remember all that -" Lizzy felt herself unable to go on.

"Yes, you are correct," Mr. Darcy said hesitantly. "I think you have hit upon the best solution. I can prepare them to be sent to my solicitor tonight, and then..." Mr. Darcy took the ring from her outstretched hand, and then enfolded her hand in both of his own, "this will be yours again someday. Though perhaps something should be done about the inscription?" They exchanged a look that demonstrated that both knew to what he referred.

Lizzy could not help smiling as Mr. Darcy brushed away her tears with his fingers. He then withdrew from her quickly as Mr. Bingley's rapid footsteps were heard in the hall.

"What are you both doing in here?" he asked when he had entered the room and seen them both sitting by the fireplace.

"I came in to collect the writing materials I left in here this afternoon, and Miss Elizabeth came to find a book. You have heard of books, have you not, Bingley? Surely you have noticed them lining the shelves of this room," Mr. Darcy teased his friend with such a haughty tone that Lizzy could not help but laugh.

"He is a good friend, is he not, Miss Elizabeth, to mock me so - and all because he once overheard me tell your sister that I am no great reader. And I am always so forbearing in not teasing him for his refusal to dance!" Bingley cried in mock offense, while Lizzy and Mr. Darcy both laughed to hide their embarrassment over another overheard conversation from the same evening to which he alluded. "Perhaps he is cross, though, after being closed up in Caroline's wardrobe with her," Mr. Bingley slyly added. "I think I was fortunate to lose the game."

"I cannot help but wonder, Bingley, why is it that you always lose at sardines?" Mr. Darcy asked.

Mr. Bingley grinned sheepishly. "I will tell you, but you must promise never to tell Caroline," he said with an anxious look at them both, which was answered with nods of agreement. "I lose on purpose," he admitted. "I have a... an intense dislike of small, enclosed spaces, and so I try to avoid them at all costs. However, Caroline does not know this, and it is not the kind of, well, weakness that I want my sister to find out about - she is in a position to torment me exceedingly, I assure you. So, I cannot refuse to play sardines when she suggests it, but I can make sure that I lose every game by waiting a considerable time to start looking! Although, Darcy, I almost expected you to do the same thing - and I was surprised you agreed to play at all. It was most unlike you, my friend! How can you account for yourself?"

Lizzy anxiously awaited Mr. Darcy's answer; she had wondered from the start whether, as it had seemed at the time, he had agreed to play only because she had said she would, and now she wondered if he would admit such a thing were it even true. Mr. Darcy blushed under the scrutiny of two pairs of eager eyes - one obviously curious, and one laughingly teasing him.

"I am afraid my reason will make me seem ungentlemanly, Bingley. I agreed to play in the hopes that I would be selected to hide, and that I might hide so well that I would then be left alone for the rest of the afternoon, free from your infernally cheerful disposition, and your sister's pacing around the room, complimenting me."

Mr. Bingley laughed uproariously at this character sketch of not only himself, but his sister, and also Darcy himself. While Mr. Bingley thus enjoyed his joke, Mr. Darcy gave Lizzy a look that confirmed her suspicions about his true motives, and made her feel quite warm. She knew she was blushing profusely and tried to laugh along with Mr. Bingley in order to hide it.

"You must be shocked, Miss Elizabeth, to hear the way Darcy and I abuse my poor sister in her absence, but I can assure you, we only do so from a kind of brotherly affection, which you will know nothing about, not having brothers yourself. And she really does know how to plague a man, shameful as I am in saying so in her absence!"

"I have always wished I had a brother, though I suppose I shall have to wait until one of my sisters marries," Lizzy said with a sly look at Mr. Bingley, who looked very conscious, and blushed a little, as Lizzy continued, "And so you have a 'brotherly affection' for Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy? How sweet," Lizzy said with a mischievous look at Mr. Darcy, who had the grace to blush about the whole thing.

"Well, Bingley here is like the brother I never had, so Miss Bingley, by extension..." Mr. Darcy did not know how to proceed with his explanation, but Mr. Bingley saved him from his dilemma.

"Yes, and though I suspect she may desire it to be otherwise, that is the closest Caroline will ever come to a familial relationship with my friend, though I really should not say so in mixed company," Mr. Bingley supplied sheepishly as it became Mr. Darcy's turn to blush and turn away.

There was no response Lizzy could safely make to such a speech, so she only smiled. When Mr. Bingley suggested they all return to the drawing room, where the tea table had been set, Lizzy decided that she could take no more 'polite' conversation, nor sustain pretensions of indifference towards a certain gentleman. She came to the same realization that Miss Bingley had obviously reached hours before, though likely for a different reason; if she was destined to forget all the wondrous things that had happened to her, and the now welcome affection of Mr. Darcy, best to get it over with, rather than spend any more time sadly anticipating the event. So, she claimed fatigue, declined tea, and, choosing a book, which she knew she would not even open, at random from a shelf, declared her intention to retire for the night. Mr. Bingley expressed regret, and bid her goodnight, and then left the room to have tea and brandy sent to the library, where he and Mr. Darcy decided to spend the evening in the absence of female company. As soon as Mr. Bingley had gone, Lizzy offered her hand to Mr. Darcy.

"Good night, Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said, his expression wistful, but his eyes nevertheless reflecting the love overflowing from his heart as he kissed her hand one last time.

"Good-bye, Mr. Darcy - Fitzwilliam," Lizzy said, and with one final squeeze of his hand, and one last long look at those mesmerizing blue eyes, which she now understood reflected the contents of his heart, she turned and left the room.

When Mr. Bingley returned to the library with the decanter of brandy and some glasses, but no tea, he found his friend thoroughly engrossed in writing something in a large notebook.

"Still keeping that journal, eh Darcy?" Mr. Bingley noted casually, receiving no more than a distracted 'Mmm' in response. He left his friend to his slow, even, greatly admired handwriting for some time, occupying himself in staring at the pages of a book while imagining spending the evening in the same room, but with a lovely, sweet, angelic lady as his companion instead of his laconic friend. "What is that you are writing, Darcy?" he finally asked when he could bear the scratching of Darcy's pen in the silence no longer.

"Notes to myself, about things I do not wish to forget."

"You are a dull stick, Darcy! No wonder Miss Elizabeth chose to go to bed so early, with the prospect of spending the evening with you to entertain her. I leave the room for two minutes and she develops a crippling case of fatigue! You know, old man, you could do much worse than a girl like her. I know that she does not have the fortune or connections that you think so necessary in a match, but I think her lively manner, kind nature, and intelligence could be just the thing to soften you up a bit. I almost thought you were beginning to come to your senses when you agreed to play sardines this afternoon - it was obvious that you only decided to play because she said she would play, regardless of whatever reason you choose to acknowledge. Granted, she does not seem to like you much -" at this, Darcy's pen stopped scratching for a moment. Bingley had noticed Elizabeth's animosity toward him? And still Bingley thought they would make a good match? " - or, at any rate, she did not before this evening, but I suspect that if you, oh, I do not know, courted her a bit, she would come around. You could be good for her as well, you know, and I do not mean in the way of fortune, although the advantages of the match would clearly be all one-sided in that respect. But you could bring her into the wider world, Darcy, and someone of her talents was not meant to be buried in the country her whole life."

Bingley's words gave Darcy a pang - if only Bingley had waited another day to deliver this lecture to his besotted friend! Darcy was entirely inclined to agree with him at present, but the thought that by morning he would feel quite the opposite pained him. But Bingley was not finished yet. "I know you do not care for her family, but -"

"Bingley, if you will but give me two more minutes to continue unmolested, I will play billiards with you, but please, let me finish this now. I must get these things down on paper before I forget them."

"Excellent!" was Bingley's only reply, and silence reigned again as Darcy finished his appointed task.

'This is a faithful narrative of every event which occurred when I followed Miss Elizabeth Bennet through Miss Caroline Bingley's wardrobe into the land of Darcinia (now, I hope, Lizziland); and if, in reading this, I do not absolutely reject it as false, this will, I hope assist in any decision about the future course of my life. For the truth of everything here related, there are, for obvious reasons, no other witnesses to offer testimony. I am not, however, a man known for flights of fancy, and must trust to my own personal belief in my sanity and rationality. There remains but one means of proof - I will send the two rings, inscribed as I have above noted, dated and sealed with a note relating their provenance, to my solicitor, with the instructions that he is neither to open the packet, nor ever mention its existence to me, but to give it to me only when I ask for it, which I shall most assuredly do immediately when I have read these pages once again.

Fitzwilliam M. Darcy
--th November, 18--
Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire'

After sanding the final page to dry the ink, Mr. Darcy folded a sheet of writing paper over the pages which held his extraordinary account, and secured it in place with sealing wax, pressing his seal into the melted wax with a sense of satisfaction and relief. Taking up his pen once again, he wrote a note on the cover sheet, 'Note to self - read the enclosed before making any decision to propose marriage to anyone.' He could only hope that at such time as he might read the fantastic story sealed therein, that he would credit its veracity, and not question his own rightness of mind. Closing the book with a sigh, he stood and addressed his waiting friend with more zeal than he felt for the prospect, "Lead the way, Bingley. Perhaps I shall even let you win a few games. I hope you are prepared for a long night of it - I do not think I will be ready to retire until very late."

As he passed through the hall on the way to the games room, Mr. Darcy placed a small, but lumpy packet, addressed to his solicitor and carrying all his hopes for the future, on the silver tray on the hall table, to be sent out first thing in the morning with the rest of the post.

The End