Section I, Section II.

Everyone who knew Margaret Innsbrook knew that she was an intelligent girl, but it was sometimes difficult for strangers to tell--if they could pry Maggie from the book she was reading when they met her. Thoroughly modern, yes, but forever reading books from other times and other places. If you caught her reading Madame Bovary, she would likely be speaking with a dreadful French accent for the next week. Everyone who knew her said she was a lovely girl, but at twenty years old, she should stop reading so much, go out into the world, and starting living a real life.

To this, Maggie would reply that she had a real life. Reading extensively happened to be a great part of it, but she took pleasure in many other things.

"Yeah," her younger sister, Danielle, said. "In movies based on the books she reads, dull classical music, and writing groups on the Internet. That's it."

And Maggie's parents worried every day about what Maggie would eventually do when she finished her college education. Her mother had once hoped she would become a lawyer, and her father wanted her to teach, but Maggie knew that there were too many lawyers in the world and she hated the idea of teaching. She had hated high school too much to go back to it, and she didn't have the patience to teach younger children.

"But Maggie," her mother grumbled when the topic had been brought up for the hundredth time at the dinner table, "we aren't sending you to college for four years to do nothing more than read at the end of it."

"Then I'll go back to college and get a master's degree," Maggie replied over the top of the book she was reading, a well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice.

"And then do what?" her father snapped.

"Maybe I'll teach college courses. I don't know. I'll think of something when I get there."

"Maggie, that attitude is going to cause you to end up as a waitress at Pizza Hut for the rest of your life," her father said. "And put your book down at the dinner table."

Maggie reluctantly set her book face down, giving it a longing glance. Why did her father have to interrupt her when it was at a good part? She had just arrived at the Meryton assembly ball, where all the excitement over Mr. Bingley began.

"We don't want you to be angry with us, honey, but we're concerned," her mother said. "Don't you want to do something with your life?"

"Yes, I do. I just don't know what that is yet," Maggie replied. "Maybe it will be teaching, or writing, or something. I don't know. It's not so bad. There are a lot of kids I'm in school with who don't know what they're going to do when they're done with college."

"And they'll end up in the same place you'll end up if you don't get it in gear," her father said. "Nowhere."

"Edward," her mother snapped, "try to be a little encouraging."

Maggie had lost all appetite for her dinner, so she said, with an ever-so-faint British accent, "Please excuse me. I'm finished with dinner."

Part 1

Maggie picked up her book and plate of half-eaten food and walked into the kitchen. She scraped the food on her plate into the trash and placed it in the sink, then walked the long path back through the dining room to her bedroom.

Maggie was not particularly upset with her parents. She had heard that lecture before and she would undoubtedly hear it again before she finished college. The only reason lectures like that bothered her was because they made her feel guilty. After all, they were paying for her college education. She felt she owed them something for their money.

Maggie popped in a Mozart CD, sat on her bed, and opened up her book returning to the world of Pride and Prejudice with remarkable ease. She spent a long time in the same fashion, until her eyes began to blur and she decided it was time to sleep. She set her book aside, turned off her CD player, and put on her long flannel nightgown to guard against the cold.

As sleep overtook her, she thought, I think I was born in the wrong century. Back in Jane Austen's time, women didn't have to go to college and get a job in order to please their parents. But I suppose that they didn't have everything...

Maggie woke up early, as was her habit. For the first few minutes, she didn't notice anything was different as she yawned and ran a hand through her badly tangled golden red hair. It wasn't until she reached over to her dresser to pick up her book that she noticed what it was laying on.

When she had gone to bed the night before, her dresser had been black in color and unknown in material origin. But this dresser was different. It was very ornate, stylish, something that Maggie would have chosen if she had had the money. Maggie wondered if maybe her parents had sneaked into her room and switched the dressers while she had been asleep, but decided that that was silly.

That was when she took a look at the rest of her room. Only it wasn't her room, it was someone else's. The bed she was lying on wasn't the plain bed she had had since she was a child, but a beautiful four-poster bed with intricate carvings on the posts. Instead of her plain, flowered curtains on the windows, heavy violet brocade, and those weren't her windows, either. They were far too large. There was no lime green paint on the walls, and no ugly green and gold shag carpeting that her mother had bought at an auction on the floor. The floors were hard wood and gleaming. The walls were decorated with several pictures, one of which she thought she recognized. Across the room from the bed was a beautiful vanity mirror, something she had never owned in her life.

What's going on here? Am I still dreaming?

Maggie got out of the bed and noticed that the floor was rather chilly as her bare feet hit it. She was still wearing her flannel nightgown, so at least one thing was familiar in this strange place. And she was still clutching her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice, so this was very real.

Have I been kidnapped? Drugged? Time warped? What's happened to me?

Maggie walked to the door, suddenly afraid. She expected it to be locked, but was surprised to find it unlocked. She stepped into a hallway, which wasn't possible. Her house was somewhat small and compact, with no hallways. To her left was a long passage ending with a wall. To her right was what appeared to be stairs. Maggie started walking to the right.

She was at the top of the stairs when she overheard voices at the bottom. She stopped to listen, fearing that revealing her presence might bring her more trouble.

"How long is she to stay with us?" a female voice asked.

"Caroline, how can you ask such a question? Maggie's parents died a year ago, and she's just recently come out of mourning. Her governess felt that it would be best if I were to take care of her, and I agreed. She shall stay with us for as long as she wishes." This voice was undeniably male.

"It was merely a question, Charles. You need not be vexed with me. I am not bothered by the idea of Maggie staying here with us indefinitely--or at least until she finds a suitable husband."

"With her fortune, it is unlikely she shall have much of a problem finding a husband."

Maggie? Is there someone else here named Maggie? They can't be talking about me. My parents aren't dead, and besides, Danielle would be here. They wouldn't separate us...would they?

"Excuse me, Miss Bingley," a second female replied. "I thought, if it was all right with you, to send Libby to be Miss Innsbrook's maid."

"That is fine," the first female replied.

Miss Bingley? Caroline? Maggie looked down at her book. Caroline Bingley. Someone has a twisted sense of humor! Taking a name from a classic I just happen to consider my favorite!

The sound of footsteps heading upstairs caused Maggie to gasp. She was well and truly trapped, unless she found an empty room to hide herself in. She ran down the hall, trying several doors. The first three she tried were locked, but the fourth opened easily and Maggie rushed into that one.

As soon as the door shut behind her, she looked at this room. It was similar in style as the one she had been in, a style she recognized from Jane Austen movies. And it, like the one she had awakened in, happened to be a bedroom.

A man's bedroom.

And the man who occupied the room sat up in bed and looked at her. He looked vaguely familiar, but Maggie couldn't quite place him.

"What are you doing here?" he asked in a slightly shocked voice.

"I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't realize there was someone in here, I..." Maggie looked around. "Help me! Please? I don't know where I am or how I got here, but I want to go home!"

"That is impossible, if you are who I think you are. Now, I would be more than willing to discuss this with you at a later time, but right now, get out of my chamber."

"But you don't understand! I've been kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped! Miss Innsbrook, do not be ridiculous. You arrived here late last night by carriage to stay with your cousins, the Bingleys. Your parents are dead and you have no other relatives other than them."

"That can't be right!"

"I assure you, it is right. Do you not remember anything? I must grant you, it was late when you arrived."

"Who...who are you?"

"Miss Innsbrook, I find this less amusing by the moment. You know who--"

"You're Mr. Darcy," Maggie whispered.

"Yes, I am. You are at Netherfield Park, in Hertfordshire."

Maggie took a deep breath. This is just a dream, only a dream. If you fall asleep, you'll wake up and be back in your own time.

Maggie took one last look around her and, suddenly, everything went black.

Part 2

When Maggie awakened again, she was back in the bedroom in which she had first been in. A tall, pretty young woman was standing over her, a look of grave concern on her face. For a fleeting moment, she didn't remember where she was. Then the memories flooded back--the strange room, the strange people, the man who apparently was Mr. Darcy...

Dear God, I'm trapped at Netherfield! But how could this have happened? This is only a book!

"Are you feeling better, Maggie?" she asked. The voice was one Maggie recognized--the woman calling herself Caroline Bingley.

"I am...uh, I think I am still unwell."

"It must have been the trip. Perhaps you should not have left home so soon."

"What happened to Danielle?" Maggie asked, afraid to hear the answer. If her parents were dead...

"She's back in boarding school. Do you not remember?"

At least she's still alive. "Oh...right now, Miss Bingley, I am so confused, I'm not sure what is what. It's all been so overwhelming."

"Miss Bingley?" she frowned. "Maggie, you always used to call me Caroline when we were children."

"I'm..."

"I know. Confused. You're going to be all right. You just need some more rest. But why did you try to get up so soon after your trip? You arrived very late last night, you know."

"I know." I don't think that's the problem, though. "Who found me?" And where?

"Mr. Darcy said he found you on the floor in the hallway just outside his door. He brought you back in here." Miss Bingley...no, Caroline. Maggie had to remember to call her Caroline. No matter what Maggie called her, she did not look happy.

"I'm sorry to be such an inconvenience."

"It's all right, dear. You just concentrate on getting well."

"I'm feeling better already. I just need some more rest."

"I shall leave you alone, then. Ring if you need anything, and it shall be brought to you."

I nodded, and Caroline left. The minute she was gone, I sat up in bed.

"How could this have happened?" Maggie whispered to herself. She got up and looked at the room again. A small room adjoined this one, and when she walked into it, she found a closet. She took out a peach dress and held it against her. It looked like it would fit.

This is really happening. I'm really here, and I'm not dreaming.

Maggie looked back at the dresser her book had been setting on. It was there again, and she picked it up. Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen. She opened the book to the first page.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged..." Maggie smiled. At least the book was the same. She flipped through the book and a paragraph caught her eye.

"Elizabeth smiled at the young lady she was introduced to. It seemed hard to believe that she was any relation to the Bingley sisters, for her manner seemed to be as playful as her own. 'It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Innsbrook,' she said. Miss Innsbrook smiled and replied, 'I have heard so much about you.'

Elizabeth laughed. 'From your cousins, no doubt.'

'Just from Charles, actually.'"

Maggie took a deep breath. But I'm not in the book! I never was! I'm a real person! She began to feel dizzy again, so she sat back down on the bed, holding the book.

Tears formed in Maggie's eyes. How often had she heard her mother say that she read too much? That one day, reading was going to land her in trouble?

Mom, you wouldn't believe what trouble it's landed me in now.

Maggie decided that she needed some air, so she took off her nightgown and prepared to put on the pretty peach dress she had found in the closet. Sure enough, it fit as if it had been made for her alone. As she thought about it, in this instance, it probably had been. It was a difficult task to accomplish by herself, getting into that dress, but she managed it. She looked a little more into the closet and found a pair of slippers--they pinched her feet something awful, and Maggie wondered how women could stand it.

Maggie looked in a mirror and frowned as she saw how messy her hair was. She found a small brush sitting on the dresser and picked it up. It was as tough to get the brush through her hair as it had been to get into the dress, but again, she was able to get it done. Looking through the drawers, she found a black ribbon and tied her hair into a ponytail at the base of her neck.

She picked up her book and opened the door. Glancing down the hallway, she saw that no one was there. At the top of the stairs, Maggie hesitated as she saw a servant walk by briskly, but he never looked up. Maggie walked down the stairs as quickly as her shoes and dress would allow her to and headed for the front door. No one saw her as she slipped outside.

She encountered some of the most beautiful countryside she had ever seen. Maggie smiled as she looked around. She saw a path leading off into a pretty park, and so she chose to walk that way. As soon as she was out of sight from the house, she took her shoes off.

"God, those things hurt!" she grumbled. "Why would any intelligent woman wear them?" She was going to just set them aside, but then she thought that they might have been expensive, so she held them as she walked along. Her feet felt wonderful in the warmed grass.

Maggie walked briskly along the path, marveling at everything she saw. Maybe this was abnormal, and maybe she shouldn't be there, but it was a beautiful place. She could get used to it.

She saw a lovely tree and decided to sit down for a moment. She opened her book and found the page where she had mysteriously appeared. Apparently, it was at Sir William's party, for it was early in the book. She was about to continue reading when she heard a familiar, shocked voice.

"Miss Innsbrook!"

Maggie looked up to see Mr. Darcy.

Part 3

Maggie was dressed rather conservatively according to her standards, but as she saw Darcy appraise her appearance, she knew that she was going to have to change those standards quickly. She saw herself through his dark eyes, seeing the bare feet, the loose ponytail, and the fact that she had not thought to put on anything underneath the gown she was wearing, a fact that was glaringly apparent because her skirt had hiked up to her knees.

"I--I--had not thought--" she sputtered.

"What are you--" he said at the same time. "I thought you were unwell."

"I needed to get--out, so I decided to take a walk."

"Oh. A walk," he repeated, for lack of anything else to say.

Maggie felt her face flush. She stood up, the book in her lap falling to the ground. Before she could pick it up, Darcy bent over to take the book. He glanced at the title.

"Pride and Prejudice," he read. "I have not heard of this particular authoress."

Maggie could not help but smile as she took the book he held out for her. "She's a wonderful author," she said. She had a feeling that the man wouldn't believe her if she told him he was a fictional character from the book he had just held.

"Perhaps this would be a book I might like to read."

"No!" Maggie cried, then bit her lip. Dear God, what would happen if he did that? "It...it's, well...it's not the type of book..."

"Then what type of book is it?"

"It...is a book of instructions in deportment for young ladies," Maggie said. Nice recovery.

Darcy did not say anything, but he did give her a second glance. Maggie caught the full meaning of the look.

"It's...a very obscure book," she added weakly. "The author suggests that young ladies should relieve a bit of the pain they suffer from tight shoes and corsets at least...once a month. She feels it is good for the soul."

"I see." Darcy's eyes raised at the mention of corsets, Maggie noted, and she could have kicked herself for saying that.

"I think I should go back into the house before someone realizes I'm gone and goes looking for me."

"That would probably be best," he said. He made a swift bow, to which she curtseyed, and the two started on their separate paths.

"Miss Innsbrook?" he called.

Maggie turned around. "Yes?"

"There is a secret passage in the kitchen which goes around the servant's quarters and upstairs near your room. If you can find it, you should be able to escape everyone's notice." He gave her a brief, wintry smile, then continued to walk away.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy." Maggie didn't leave right away, however. She watched him as he walked towards an unknown destination.

I could certainly understand why a woman would fall in love with him if she got to know him, she thought. She was about to head back when she saw him in the distance. Darcy had stopped to lean against a tree, and it looked as though he was taking his shoes off. A moment later, Maggie saw him loosening his waistcoat, vest, and cravat.

Chuckling to herself, Maggie went in search of the secret passage.

Part 4

Two days following the incident in the park with Darcy, Maggie began to feel as though she were getting used to life at Netherfield. The servants were all polite--she had convinced them to call her "Miss Maggie" even though Caroline insisted that they call her the more formal "Miss Innsbrook." The gentlemen who had been by to call on Charles Bingley were all polite and obliging, most unlike a lot of the men Maggie knew back home. Although she had to adjust to an unusual time schedule--it seemed as though no one woke up before nine or so--Maggie felt as though she had adjusted quite well. The only problem she had was her feet, from having to wear those awful shoes all the time. When she could, she slipped them off and hadn't been caught since that first day.

As for the people she was living with, Maggie couldn't help but think about what was happening at that moment compared to what eventually happened at the end. As she saw Caroline primp and fuss about Darcy, she wanted to tell her that it was hopeless, for Elizabeth Bennet already had Darcy's attention and would always have it thereafter. But of course, Maggie knew that she wasn't supposed to know Elizabeth, so she said nothing.

Charles was a very open, honest young man, and although she had never understood how he had been persuaded to believe that Jane didn't love him later, she understood as she got to know him. Maggie had spoken to him, mentioning Jane and telling him that Jane was probably already half in love with him. He almost blushed, to Maggie's amusement, and insisted that that could not be so. Maggie instantly realized that he was rather modest.

Louisa and Mr. Hurst were a little more distant with her, but since Maggie didn't have much of an interest in them anyway, it didn't bother her.

But Maggie's deepest curiosity was reserved for Mr. Darcy. Although she knew that his admiration of Elizabeth wouldn't truly begin until the party at Lucas Lodge, Maggie noticed already, when he didn't know she could see him, that he had a look of longing as he looked out the windows as he was wont to do. That was something Maggie had never picked up on in reading the book, that he had meditated on Elizabeth's "fine eyes" before he said it to Caroline. The two had scarcely spoken ten words together since they had met in the park, but Maggie had quickly realized that Darcy was a man of few words to begin with.

Caroline mentioned that morning over breakfast that the family had been invited to a party at Lucas Lodge. She had looked at Maggie for a second, as if she expected her to say something.

Maggie realized what Caroline was waiting for her to say. "Who do we know there?" she finally asked, smiling at the silliness of having to ask when she already knew.

"You haven't had the misfortune of meeting Sir William Lucas," Caroline said. "He was once in trade until he was knighted. Now he's a pompous, foolish man."

"Caroline, that was unnecessary. He is a kind man, even if he is a trifle...long-winded."

You guys never met Miss Bates from Emma, did you? Now there was someone who could talk.

"At any rate, he has invited us to a party, and we shall attend, of course. There you shall have your opportunity to meet the famous Miss Bennets."

"I have heard of them," Maggie said. "They say the eldest two are quite lovely."

"They say all of them are lovely, but only the eldest one is. Jane Bennet is a sweet girl. I am certain you shall like her at once," Louisa said.

"What about her sister, Elizabeth?" I asked with a pointed look over at Darcy.

"It's funny you should ask that question of Mr. Darcy," Caroline said with a laugh. "After our first meeting with her, he said that he would sooner call her mother a wit than her a beauty." She and Louisa burst into laughter.

I frowned. "That wasn't a very nice thing to say," I told him. "About the mother or the daughter."

"But Maggie, you haven't met Mrs. Bennet, so you do not understand," Caroline said. "The woman disliked Mr. Darcy at once, for no other reason than he walked away from her without offering to dance with one of her daughters. She then proceeded to tell everyone how much she disliked him--loudly."

"And when she wasn't doing that, she was extolling the virtues of our brother's fortune," Louisa added.

"Perhaps the mother might have deserved it. But what about the daughter?" Maggie replied, looking again at Darcy. "What did she do to rate such a rude comment?"

No one spoke.

"Since she doesn't know what you said about her, I guess you shouldn't apologize. But perhaps you should take a second look at her and think whether or not her beauty is below her mother's manners." Maggie stood up and the gentlemen quickly followed. "If you would excuse me, I believe I shall be in the library."

Maggie was about to pick up her plate to carry it to the kitchen--that was a habit she had been unable to break-- when a servant took it for her.

"Thank you," she said, earning her several peculiar glances from the Bingley sisters, an admiring one from Bingley himself, and...

Maggie wasn't sure what Darcy's look meant, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. He was probably thinking her even more ill-mannered than he had the day before, although why that should bother her was beyond her comprehension. After all, he was destined for Elizabeth Bennet.

Maggie was stuffed into a light blue gown, and even worse, into a pair of shoes more uncomfortable than the ones worn for everyday things. Her hair was pulled into a knot at the top of her head, with a couple of curls hanging from it in a type of ponytail. When the maid had wanted to cut Maggie's hair so that she would have curls at the temples, she rebelled. She hated that style, and knew instinctively that it would make her look like more of a sausage than the dress did.

As Maggie looked in the mirror, she was surprised to see how lovely she looked. She had attended many parties back home, where she had worn makeup (she didn't have the nerve to ask if anyone had such things here, for fear of being scandalous), and she had never thought of herself as being anything more than wholesomely pretty. Now she seemed...more mature, but not too mature. Being too mature would put her in the old maid category, which she didn't want in this place.

Maggie asked for a moment of privacy, and immediately, the maid left. That was another thing Maggie liked about this place--if she wanted to be alone, they left her alone.

Glancing about her, she noticed her copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting on the dresser. She hadn't looked at it in two days, afraid to find that she had taken ill or, worse yet, run off with Wickham herself in order to save the Bennet family from ruin. But Maggie was first and foremost very curious, so she opened the book back to where she had stopped reading--with her meeting Elizabeth, which was about to happen very soon.

The evening progressed and Elizabeth found herself enjoying the company of Miss Bingley's cousin more and more. But she could not help but notice that Lydia had begun to expose them to ridicule by teasing some of the other dancers, so she decided to scold her sister for her behaviour. She and Miss Innsbrook began to walk in that direction.

She was only part of the way to her sister when she was accosted by Sir William, who entreated Mr. Darcy to dance with her. Elizabeth excused herself from dancing, so Sir William turned to the other young lady. Miss Innsbrook blushed charmingly, but refused to dance as well, saying that she was a truly dreadful dancer, and she would only shame Mr. Darcy by dancing, but thanked him politely.

Soon after this, Miss Bingley noticed Mr. Darcy gazing across the room at someone. She thought perhaps he was just thinking, so she said, "I can guess the direction of your thoughts."

"I think not."

"You are thinking how insupportable it would be to be in society such as this constantly, are you not?"

"My mind was more pleasantly engaged, I assure you. I have been meditating on the great pleasure a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow."

Miss Bingley, thinking that perhaps she was the young lady of whom he spoke, asked him to tell her whose eyes had inspired the comment.

"Miss Margaret Innsbrook's."

Miss Bingley was all astonishment, for she had not known that Mr. Darcy had admired her cousin to such an extent. The pronouncement left her without anything to say to him, so she walked away.

Maggie's eyes widened even more. Me? He's going to admire me? Why me? Why not Elizabeth, as he's supposed to?

Maggie was about to flip through the book to see what else happened to her when the door opened again. "Excuse me, Miss Maggie, but they are waiting for you downstairs."

"Of course. I am ready," she said, putting down her book and feeling less ready than she ever had in her life.

As she walked down the stairs, she looked at everyone. In particular, she looked at Darcy. And in his eyes, she realized with a quick stab of nervousness, was a deep admiration--for her.

"Shall we go, Maggie?" Charles smiled, extending an arm for her very gallantly.

Maggie smiled. "By all means, cousin," she replied, taking the offered arm and heading outside to the carriage.

Dear God, what am I going to do now? Maggie wondered as the carriage began pulling away from Netherfield.

Part 5

Long before the carriage arrived at Lucas Lodge, Maggie knew what she was going to have to do. Much as she might like the idea of Darcy admiring her (and she'd had several such moments), she knew that she had to put him on the right path--the path to Elizabeth. Now her only problem was of how she was going to do this.

Her only solution seemed to be the one she would least like to take--she would have to expose herself to ridicule. Maggie had no experience in this, since she preferred to think that for all her eccentricities back home, she was not considered ridiculous.

The carriage came to a stop, and she heard Mr. Hurst mumble something about this being damned tedious. You have no idea, she thought. The footman helped her out of the carriage, and Maggie took a look at the nice home they had been brought to. Not much in comparison to Netherfield, but she hadn't been expecting it to be.

The entered the hallway and were immediately greeted by Sir William and Lady Lucas.

"Sir William, I hope that you would forgive my presumption in bringing my cousin, Miss Margaret Innsbrook, to your party," Charles said.

"Not at all, sir! Lady Lucas and I are more than accommodating, especially to such a lovely young lady." Sir William bowed.

"I thank you, Sir William." Maggie smiled. Sir William immediately turned to Caroline and Louisa, and as Charles had said, it seemed as though he was never going to shut up. Mr. Hurst slipped away and went to get a drink, and Darcy moved on to get away from Sir William.

"Charles," Maggie snagged her...cousin's sleeve. "I was hoping you could introduce me to Miss Bennet. You have told me so much about her that I am almost bursting with curiosity."

Charles gave her a sunny smile. "Right this way, Maggie." He led her over to a young woman whom Maggie might have hated if she had met her back home, for the lady was unusually beautiful. "Miss Bennet, I have been entreated by my cousin to introduce you to her. This is Miss Margaret Innsbrook. Maggie, this is Miss Jane Bennet."

"It is nice to meet you," Jane said. "I had not known you were at Netherfield."

"I...arrived a couple of days ago out of...nowhere."

"Somerset is not nowhere, Maggie. Maggie recently came out of mourning for her parents, and since she needed an entre into society, I felt it only right to provide her with one."

"He is such a good cousin," Maggie said.

"His goodness is something I have long suspected him of having," Jane smiled.

Charles smiled, clearly a little embarrassed. A few seconds later, a pretty young woman joined us and asked, "Good evening, Mr. Bingley."

"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth."

Maggie's smile widened as she was introduced to Elizabeth Bennet. Charles and Jane immediately excused themselves, leaving Maggie and Elizabeth alone. After very quickly insisting that they would call each other by their first names, the two occupied a couch and talked.

Maggie looked at Charles and Jane occasionally, cheerfully thinking of what a wonderful couple they made.

"You seem as pleased about them as I am," Elizabeth remarked once, noticing her action.

"I am. Your sister is a very nice young woman, and I know how wonderful Charles is...very wonderful. There aren't many who would have helped me out..." Maggie didn't finish, since she honestly didn't have anything to stick in there for his helping her out.

"Mr. Bingley is a very agreeable man. I wish I could say the same for his friend."

Maggie looked at her. "Why do you wish? Is there something..." I can only hope.

"Oh, no!" Elizabeth laughed. "I would not admit this to just anyone, but the man insulted me before. His pride mortified mine, and I have no tender feelings for him."

"You know..." Maggie's mind was thinking rapidly. "I think he might be regretting his words to you."

"He didn't say it to me, that's what made it worse. He said it to your cousin."

"Then I think he might be regretting his words about you. It's something we must allow in him, given his upbringing."

"His upbringing?" Elizabeth frowned. "Arrogance isn't something that should be allowed, Maggie."

"Oh, I'm not saying that. It's just that...well, I used to be a lot like him. But something changed me...my parents died. And suddenly, I had nothing. Now, I think he's had the opposite reaction...that, since his parents have died, he's only had his pride to count on. It isn't until later that he thinks about the results of his actions."

"That was a bit too complicated for me to follow, Maggie."

"Then just leave it as he is sorry for what he said--since he doesn't know you heard him, he won't apologize--and maybe you could think about forgiving him?"

Elizabeth looked at me rather shrewdly. "I think you like him a bit yourself."

Am I that transparent? "Me? Oh, no. I'm waiting for the true love of my life to walk in the door, and I don't feel that when I'm with him."

Elizabeth smiled. "Then we are in agreement about what we want from marriage."

"Yes, we are."

A young woman came charging through the room, shouting, "Mary! Mary, stop playing this dull stuff! We want to dance!"

"Oh, Lord," Elizabeth mumbled.

"What's wrong?"

"That's my sister, Lydia. And the piano player is another sister, Mary."

The two sisters argued, which was resolved by an older woman calling, "Oh, play a jig, Mary. No one wants your concertos here!"

Elizabeth closed her eyes in frustration and some embarrassment. "I am sorry you had to see them that way," she said.

"That's all right. Lydia reminds me of my sister, Danielle."

"You have a sister?"

"Yes. She's still in boarding school."

"I wish my mother had sent Lydia to a boarding school. It might actually have done her some good."

"Or perhaps not. Boarding school hasn't done Danielle a lot of good."

The two talked for several more minutes, until something caught Elizabeth's notice. "If you will excuse me, I think I need to stop my sister from exposing us all to ridicule."

"I think I will speak to Sir William," Maggie replied as she saw that Lydia was beginning to act a little wild. She stood up with Elizabeth.

Maggie had not missed Sir William talking with Darcy just as Elizabeth had seen her sister, so she knew Darcy had said that "every savage can dance." Maggie, however, couldn't dance--not even back home. So if Elizabeth didn't change her mind and dance with Darcy, she would have to dance with him herself...

"Ah, Miss Eliza!" Sure enough, Sir William had latched onto Elizabeth. "Why are you not dancing?"

"If you would excuse me, sir--"

"Here is a wonderful young gentleman who would love nothing more than to dance with you."

Oh, Elizabeth, please dance with him. Please, please...

But as Maggie had suspected, Elizabeth refused to dance with him.

"Miss Innsbrook? Could I entreat you to dance with Mr. Darcy?"

"I fear that Mr. Darcy might be disappointed in me as a partner after not getting his first choice," Maggie said.

"It would be an honour, Miss Innsbrook."

"All right, then." Maggie closed her eyes as she was led to the dance floor, praying that it would be over soon.

The music started, and she tried to follow everyone's lead, but very quickly found herself falling behind.

Why couldn't this be like that dreadful old version of P&P, where one could dance a waltz and not feel like a complete idiot? I could at least fake my way through a waltz.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Caroline and Louisa laughing at something. She knew it was at her.

"I fear I should not have agreed," Maggie said. "I am a dreadful dancer."

"That is all right," Darcy replied. "At least you are trying."

Maggie began to think she was getting the hang of it, and she couldn't help but revel in the moment of getting to dance with this handsome man. But a few seconds after she felt that, she immediately reminded herself that she had a mission...and deliberately crossed the wrong way in front of Mr. Darcy, managing to step hard on his foot.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her cheeks flushing. "You should have tried harder to entreat Miss Bennet to dance."

The dance finally ended, and Maggie quickly walked away. She found Elizabeth talking to Charlotte Lucas (with whom she had briefly been introduced), who soon left to dance with an officer.

"I felt like such a fool!" Maggie cried.

"Do not feel like that," Elizabeth said. "You weren't too awful dancing."

"My cousins didn't think so." Maggie pointed to Caroline and Louisa, who were giggling.

"Maggie, have not you realized by now that those two are more pleased with themselves than anything else?"

"Oh, yes, I know. But I have to live with them."

"For that, you have my sympathies," Elizabeth said. "However, you might have been right about Mr. Darcy. He seemed much nicer than he did the last time I saw him."

"Then why did you not dance with him?"

"I did not want to dance," Elizabeth replied. "However, had I known that you hated dancing, I would have agreed, to spare you, my friend."

"Thank you." But it's a little too late for that.

Maggie saw Caroline walking over to Mr. Darcy, slowly, like a spider closing in on the fly. She couldn't let her get to him, so she tried to get across to the other side of the room before he could tell her whom he admired. Oh, God, no! I don't need Caroline to make my life miserable any more than it already is!

But she was too late. Caroline and Darcy were talking just as Maggie had managed to get past the last of the people separating them, and Maggie had clearly heard whose eyes Darcy had been admiring.

"Miss Margaret Innsbrook's," he said quietly.

Maggie's heart sank. It had all been for nothing, the humiliating dance. He still admired her, and she couldn't think why.

Caroline had apparently spotted her, for she gave her a murderous glance.

Oh, God! Now what?

Maggie looked disappointed and knew that the only way she was going to change this situation was to do something drastic. So she grabbed a glass of punch from a table and headed towards Darcy, stumbling as she went to appear drunk. Just as she was about to him, she pretended to trip over something, letting the glass spill all over his front.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Darcy," she said, with a slight hiccup. "I--hic!--I didn't see you was there."

Darcy frowned as he looked at his ruined shirt. "Excuse me, Miss Innsbrook. I need to--"

"Right...so sorry...can't understand how this could've--hic!"

Maggie almost smiled as she saw a slight look of distaste cross his face. That should keep him from admiring me anymore.

Caroline crossed the room. "How dare you get drunk!" she hissed. "You have exposed all of us to ridicule."

"Then take me home, but first let me say good-bye to Miss Bennet. It wouldn't be polite to just leave."

"You are in no condition to do anything."

"I'll decide what I'll do!" Maggie snapped in a slightly loud voice.

Caroline gripped her arm and wouldn't let go.

"Caroline!" Charles gasped. "Let Maggie go right now. You're embarrassing us more than she ever could."

Caroline let go of me, once again giving me a glare, then suddenly, her anger seemed to fade and triumph took its place.

She's just figured out the meaning of what I've done.

"You are right, Charles. Just...let's go home now."

"Quite right."

On the ride home, Maggie continued to pretend to be drunk, babbling apologies to Darcy and Charles and Caroline. Once they got home, Caroline politely said she would see me to bed.

"Thank you, Maggie," she said as she opened the door to my room.

"What?" Maggie replied.

"You are not drunk at all. You heard what Mr. Darcy said, didn't you?"

"About what?"

"Admiring you. Admiring your eyes. And since you know how I like him--you did remember, I knew you did--you decided to sacrifice yourself for me."

Well, no, not really. If it had been for you, a million dollars could have convinced me to do it. "Right."

"Thank you, Maggie. I hope this didn't cause you too much harm."

"How much harm could Hertfordshire cause me?" I asked.

"Excellent point, dear." Caroline smiled. "Good evening."

Maggie lay back on her bed, hoping that now Mr. Darcy would stop admiring her and start admiring Elizabeth.

That's the way it was supposed to happen.

Part 6

The following morning, Caroline announced that Jane Bennet would be joining the family for dinner that evening. Maggie looked outside and said, "I don't think that's a good idea, Caroline. It looks like it will rain." The moment the words were out of her mouth, Maggie wondered why she was being such an idiot. Of course Jane had to come to Netherfield, for if she didn't, Elizabeth wouldn't come and Darcy wouldn't...

"If it does, she will surely have enough sense to not come."

"Surely she will," Maggie agreed, knowing the determination of the young lady's mother to make her come no matter what.

Thus the invitation was sent and the morning was spent in preparation of Jane's visit. Maggie excused herself soon after Darcy took his morning walk because she had something better in mind. Elizabeth was coming, and Maggie had to make sure that Darcy had no interest in her own person whatsoever. This visit, he had to focus purely on Elizabeth alone.

Maggie reread the scene at the Lucases' party, which had, not surprisingly, changed to include her sudden pratfall because of her "drunkenness." But when she read the next chapter, the one that would bring Jane to Netherfield, she was startled to discover that Darcy had seen through her charade as easily as Caroline had.

He was not certain if she was interested in him or if she hated him, and if her ploy the evening before had been to snare his attention for herself or to further her cousin's interests. Yet he could not deny that for all that she was not a beauty, Miss Margaret Innsbrook was a truly fascinating young woman. Her luminescent green eyes sparkled with a rare intelligence and good humour, and did not bother to hide her quick mind, as a lady should have been taught to do.

Maggie frowned. How had he known that she had not been drunk? Well, she figured, if Caroline had seen through it that easily, she should have known that an intelligent man like Darcy wouldn't believe her act. The problem was, both motives he was apparently attributing to her were wrong. And he wouldn't believe--or be interested in--the right motive.

So trying not to act like a lady isn't going to work. What will?

Maggie continued reading through Jane's visit to Netherfield, which did indeed bring Elizabeth to take care of her sister. But instead of sparring with Elizabeth, Darcy ended up sparring with Maggie instead. In fact, he was rather friendly to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was friendly to him as well...almost as if the comment made at the assembly ball had been forgotten. All through that part, however, Maggie could see that she was trying to dissuade Darcy by being less than a lady, horrifying her female cousins and amusing Charles...and making Darcy even more interested in her.

Then I'm not taking the right approach at all. I should be...what? More ladylike? Or maybe, just maybe, I should be completely honest with him. Maybe I should tell him that he's just a character in a book, and that I don't know how I got here, but it's obviously a mistake, and that he should fall in love with and marry Elizabeth because I don't love him...

But what happens when you tell a fictional character that he's just a fictional character? For that matter, what is real any more, and what is not? I clearly don't know, and I don't think I want to know.

Maggie finally thought of something that might work. She walked to her vanity, sat down, and pulled out a small stack of paper, a bottle of ink, and a pen from a drawer. Dipping her pen in ink, she began writing with bold, unusual style.

The skies were gray and gloomy as Maggie headed out to find Darcy in the park. In her hands she held half a dozen sheets of paper, creased and looking older than the two hours that they were. She knew he had to leave to dine with the officers soon, but she hoped that he was still wandering, as he was every day.

Sure enough, a few minutes after she began her search, she found him walking down an unused path. Darting away before she could be seen, she sat down underneath an apple tree, kicked off her shoes, and began reading what she had written. A few minutes later, she heard Darcy approaching.

"Miss Innsbrook? What finds you out here on such a gray day?"

Maggie looked up and sighed. "Gray skies always remind me of Edward."

Darcy frowned. "Edward?"

"Mm-hmm. He's a fine man I knew in Somerset. We had a...well, I won't say an understanding, because we never got around to it. But before my parents died, I liked to think that we were close." Maggie gave him what she hoped was a dreamy smile. "We met on a rainy Tuesday morning, when he accidentally stepped on my shawl with a muddy boot. Quite ruined my shawl, you know. But I forgave him. I could forgive him anything."

"I...I did not know that you had..."

"Oh, I know. I haven't told Caroline or Charles or Louisa. Mainly because I haven't heard from him in a year, with my...parents dying, and he left to join a militia...I know not which one. He never mentioned its name in his letters." Maggie held one up to emphasize that. "He's a younger son, unfortunately."

"Not unfortunately. You are considered an heiress, Miss Innsbrook."

"I am?" Maggie wanted to ask how much of an heiress, but Darcy wouldn't be the right person to ask that question.

"Yes."

"Oh, yes! I quite forget that sometimes, when I think of how that...came about." Maggie's eyes filled with real tears when she thought about her parents dying. Her one great hope was that if...when she returned home that her parents would still be there.

Darcy said, "You have my deepest sympathies, Miss Innsbrook, for your loss."

"Thank you."

Neither spoke for a moment as the first crack of thunder was heard. Maggie stood up, pushing her feet back into the instruments of torture, as she called her shoes.

"Miss Innsbrook, may I speak openly with you?" he asked.

"Of course."

"Why did you pretend to be drunk last night? It clearly wasn't to further your interests if you have someone you feel close to."

"Uh..." Maggie wasn't quite sure how to answer the question.

"I should tell you something. I do not have any plans to marry your cousin, Miss Bingley. If that is what the two of you aim for, you should quit the plan now." He was clearly upset, as he walked more quickly, causing Maggie to practically break into a run to keep up with him.

"But sir--"

"Anything that bears affinity to cunning is abhorrent to me, Miss Innsbrook. I thought you above that."

"It didn't seem to bother you that I would do that to catch your attention for myself," Maggie snapped.

"So that is your intention? To marry me off to your cousin?"

"No, I didn't say that!" Maggie was getting frustrated. "Do you know what she and Louisa were doing while I was dancing with you? They were laughing at me! The entire time, and even afterward. I was so humiliated to have my own family do that. So why would I help Caroline when she doesn't have the decency to ridicule me in private, which she no doubt did as well?"

"Then why did you do it at all? It makes no sense, Maggie!"

Maggie stopped walking at his use of her nickname. He apparently realized what he had called her himself, for he turned around, dawning realization in his eyes.

"Unless you've made up your lost suitor in an effort to make me jealous."

Maggie groaned. "No, I didn't."

"Then what is this mystery suitor's family name? Or does he have one?"

Without thinking, Maggie gave him the first name that came into her mind. "Fitzwilliam," she said. "It's Edward Fitzwilliam."

"Edward Fitzwilliam? That cannot be."

"And why not? Am I not allowed to have a suitor you don't know?"

"Because he is my cousin, and he would have told me if--"

God! Why did I say Fitzwilliam? I should've remembered that that was his cousin's name! "I haven't seen him in a year. Maybe he's forgotten about me and only writes these letters out of duty."

Something flickered again in Darcy's eyes, and Maggie suddenly remembered what had happened nearly a year ago that might very well have taken her "suitor" away from her. And that was Darcy's sister nearly eloping with George Wickham.

"Now if you would excuse me, I'd rather not get rained on. I don't want to catch a cold." Maggie walked away from him, not bothering to look back.

Lord, what a muddle I made of that. Maggie walked into the house and ran up the stairs without greeting Caroline, who had been walking through the hall. When she reached her room, she slammed the door.

Flopping onto the bed, Maggie looked up at the ceiling and thought, I want to go home. I just want to go home and have everything go back to the way it should be! Why am I here? God, what did I do to deserve this?

She lay there for quite a while, not moving, not thinking of anything else but her deep desire to go home and occasionally hearing the rain beating on the windows. Finally, she heard a timid knock.

"Come in."

The maid came in. "Excuse me, miss, but Miss Bingley told me to tell you that Miss Bennet has arrived, and Mr. Darcy left you a note."

Maggie leaped off of the bed to take the note the maid held, then said, "Tell Caroline...er, Miss Bingley, that I'll be down directly."

"Yes, miss."

Maggie opened the note and read, "To Miss Margaret Innsbrook. Forgive me for my rude behaviour towards you earlier in the park. Speaking freely, I must confess that I had some feelings towards you and was disappointed to discover that you had a tendre for my cousin; however, you clearly care for him and I cannot deny that or wish to ruin your happiness, or his. Your ploy of last evening was, I see now, an attempt to get me to stop admiring you. As for my other accusation, that you were trying to gain my favor for your cousin, I also apologize, since I know the pain and embarrassment you felt at the hands of your cousins last evening in dancing was real. My greatest hope is that we should be friends, for I know you are hoping--and I hope as well--that we should one day be cousins. You have an intelligent, lively mind, one free of deceit and guile, and I was wrong to accuse you of such. Please accept my forgiveness, and I would understand if you were uninterested in continuing our relationship as friends.---Fitzwilliam Darcy."

Maggie smiled as she read the note. Friends. In another life, in a real situation, my dear Mr. Darcy, we could have been more than friends. But if we are more than friends here, I don't know what would happen. So friends we are. And maybe, soon, I shall persuade you that there is another intelligent, lively mind...belonging to a lovely young woman named Elizabeth...

Maggie folded her letter, stuck it in her book at the place where she had stopped reading, and headed downstairs to join the ladies for dinner.

Part 7

The following morning brought Elizabeth Bennet, saddened to see her sister in poor health but pleased to see her new friend. Maggie couldn't help noticing that Caroline had little reaction to Elizabeth's arrival--she still made scathing comments on the other's dress, appearance, and stamina, but she could not help but commend (very reluctantly) that Elizabeth's concern was touching. The malice was absent...for the present.

During a long interval in which Elizabeth nursed her sister, Caroline and Louisa sat in the drawing room, working on what Maggie called arts and crafts but was undoubtedly one of those "accomplishments" she was never going to have if she lived to grow old in this place. Maggie excused herself from such tediousness and went on another of her daily walks. She had chosen a different path to walk on each day she had been at Netherfield, and each day, she discovered something different. But today, Maggie had a greater interest in knowing what was going to happen during Elizabeth's stay, so she took her book along with her and stuck to a familiar path.

Maggie opened the book and read it as she walked along. The moment she came to the part she was looking for, she stopped suddenly, for once again, what she saw startled her, for after being so long horrified by the things going wrong because of her presence, Maggie read that things were going right.

But still going wrong.

Miss Innsbrook spoke of Mr. Darcy in such a light that Elizabeth could not help but wonder if maybe there was something redeeming about the man. She confided in Elizabeth that twice the two of them had met in circumstances that could be considered less than proper...and both times, he had not mentioned anything to anyone about them, nor treated her with anything less than respect.

For a moment, Elizabeth suspected the young lady of having an affection for Mr. Darcy that she kept hidden even from herself, but soon after, when the two were on the subject of other gentlemen, Maggie also confided in a lover of her own, a young man named Edward, to whom she had high hopes of someday becoming engaged.

Maggie continued reading, slowly walking along. Darcy didn't immediately take much interest in Elizabeth, until the discussion of a young lady's accomplishments.

Darcy could not help but notice that Miss Bennet had been reading, and after Caroline Bingley listed her criteria for an accomplished lady, he added, "And to all this she must add something more substantial in the improvement of her mind through extensive reading."

Elizabeth could not help but think that there were very, very few women in the world who could fit all the criteria. She noticed something in his gaze, however...admiration for her choosing to read over playing cards? Or perhaps he had noticed the book she was reading--not Fordyce's Sermons, or some book on ladylike deportment, but something intellectually stimulating, maybe a favorite book of his.

As she pondered what his look meant, she thought about what he had said at the ball. "Tolerable...but not handsome enough to tempt me."

Later, she told Miss Innsbrook as they were walking alone, "I still cannot get over the insult he paid me at the ball."

Her companion replied, "Oh, I know. I'd be mad too if he said that to me. But I think I would forgive him in the end...if I could get to know him."

"The difference is, you have the opportunity--and I do not," Elizabeth said.

"Well, what do you call this? I'd call it an opportunity to get to know Mr. Darcy."

Elizabeth smiled. "You know, your cousins would be furious with you if they knew you were encouraging me in any way."

"Who cares? They've never liked me, anyway."

The two laughed as they continued walking through the park...

So Elizabeth's interest was beginning to turn favorably. Maggie smiled as she continued reading, but she saw a bench nearby and decided to rest for a moment. She was about to sit down when she heard someone call, "Maggie! Maggie!"

She stood and turned in the direction of the voice. It was Elizabeth.

"Oh, hello, Elizabeth," she said.

"I have been trying to catch your attention for five minutes. You, however, were lost in your book."

Maggie stifled the urge to hide her book in the bodice of her dress or something else equally nonsensical.

"May I have a look? It must be a good story to be so engrossing."

"Uh...quite dull, actually."

"Oh?" Elizabeth clearly didn't believe her.

"Right. It's a book of deportment for young ladies," Maggie said, remembering what she had told Darcy. "Caroline suggested that I read it following the incident at the ball."

"I can only imagine what it must be about, then," Elizabeth said, grimacing. "Why did you bring it with you out here on such a day, when the weather might spoil a good long walk?"

It was another gray day, and Maggie wanted to kick herself for not bringing her faked letters with her. But then she thought of something, and wicked smile brightened her face. "I was hoping the rain would ruin the book," she said.

Elizabeth laughed along with her. "Shall we return to the house or take our chances with the rain?" she asked.

"We'd probably better go back. It must be close to lunch, and you'll probably want to check on Jane again," Maggie said.

"Quite right."

"How is she?"

"She's not much better, but as I'm sure you have heard, your cousin invited me to stay at Netherfield until she is much better."

"I had heard, and I'm glad you'll be staying. Well, I'm not happy that your sister's sick, but I'm glad you're here. Sometimes, being with Caroline and Louisa 24-7 is enough to drive me nuts."

Elizabeth gave her a peculiar look before she was able to understand what Maggie had said. "Perhaps, when Jane is better, you might be able to spend some time with us at Longbourn."

Maggie nearly said, "And stay with your mother? Not likely," when she decided not to. Elizabeth might get mad.

"Perhaps."

They reached the house in due time, and Elizabeth excused herself to check on Jane. Maggie nearly ran to her room. Once there, she hid the book in one of her dresser drawers, vowing not to look at it unless she was alone in her room. Then she walked back downstairs and headed for the library in search of a good book to read.

The sound of Darcy and Charles walking into the library woke her up. She had been reading the infamous Fordyce's Sermons when she had fallen asleep. The book was so boring that she couldn't help it. Hidden by the chair that faced the library window, neither man saw her as they started talking.

"I hope Miss Bennet begins to feel well soon," Charles said.

"As do I." The sounds of two glasses being turned over, and liquid being poured into them. "Bingley, I must ask you, how much do you like Jane Bennet?"

"Anyone may know of my interest in her, Darcy. Especially my friends."

"That is what I have worried about. The longer she stays here, and you in Hertfordshire, the more you grow attracted to her."

"Is something wrong in this?"

"Only that you need to think about what this might do to your family. They want so much for you, and I do not think marrying Miss Bennet--"

"If I choose to marry her--which I have not decided to do, even though she is the most agreeable young lady I have ever met--it will be my choice and no one else's."

Maggie frowned at the angry note in Charles' voice. She had never thought him to have a temper, but...

"You are quite right, Bingley. Forgive my intrusion."

Silence. Then--

"You think Caroline and Louisa would not be happy if I married her?"

"I do not."

Maggie's thoughts turned angry. She knew that this was only the beginning, that Darcy would eventually convince Charles to leave Netherfield and go to London, breaking Jane's heart...and everything else would be set in motion. Both Jane and Elizabeth would suffer unnecessary heartache, all because Darcy thought he had to watch out for his friend's interests...

So focused was she on her anger that she almost missed when Charles left the room, leaving Darcy alone with her. She heard him scuffling about the room, getting another glass of...well, whatever he was drinking. Maggie rose from her chair.

"Miss Innsbrook!" She had startled him.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy?"

"What--how did you get in here?"

"What does it matter?"

An invisible wall shifted between them. "I suppose you heard me talking to your cousin," he said.

"I did."

"You should not have eavesdropped, Miss Innsbrook. It is not ladylike."

"Who cares? You should not be meddling in my cousin's affairs." Maggie stood right in front of him.

"It is kindly meant. Besides, if I do not, who shall?"

"Have you ever thought that maybe Charles could do his own thinking? That you might be breaking Jane's heart as well as his by your 'kind' intervention? How dare you, sir!"

"Miss Innsbrook! You forget yourself."

"I know who I am. I just wondered who the he--who do you think you are? Why should Charles not marry Jane Bennet if he loves her, simply because she doesn't have a dowry? It wasn't so long ago that I didn't have a dowry."

"You've always had a dowry, Miss Innsbrook."

"It didn't used to be as good as it is now, much as I regret its increase. That isn't the point."

"Then just what is your point?"

"The point is, if you persuade Charles to leave Jane, you'll do more harm than good--to both him and her. And I don't think it's right."

"You don't." Something...guilt?...flickered in Mr. Darcy's eyes. And something else that Maggie couldn't name, either.

"No. People shouldn't be kept apart if they love each other just because of a lack of dowry or good connections."

"I had not thought--"

"And thank God for it! Jane Bennet has managed, through no help of either parent, to make herself a lady worthy of...of a duke. And here you are, standing in judgment on her because her mother's family was in trade and she has uncles who live in Cheapside and Meryton...and--"

Maggie was finally able to identify the other emotion she saw in Darcy's eyes. But she wasn't able to do it until he bridged the now small distance that was between them and kissed her with a fierceness and passion that startled them both.

Part 8

After the past several days, when what she wanted and what she knew she had to do, had warred furiously within her, Maggie was ready to give up the fight when Darcy kissed her. She thought he would just end with one stolen kiss, but it didn't seem as though he would. She couldn't pull away from his as the kiss continued, his hands on the small of her back, trying to pull her closer, but even pressed against her they were not close enough to satisfy either.

Never before had the tedious, clumsy kisses and caresses of past boyfriends made her feel like this man's kiss did. For once, she thought, I'm just going to enjoy this for more than just a moment.

Unfortunately, whatever had driven Darcy to kiss her had apparently disappeared, for he pulled away from her. Maggie felt a deep sense of disappointment as he stepped away.

"I should not have done that, Miss Innsbrook," he said. "It was very wrong of me, especially given what you have told me about...I am sorry."

Sorry? You just kissed me with enough passion to be felt to the ends of my toes and you're sorry? "I guess I'm sorry, too," Maggie said finally, a slight edge in her voice.

The two of them looked at each other for the longest minute...and then she knew that he wasn't sorry, that only his breeding and his morals had led him to say such a thing. If given the chance, he would continue kissing her.

And that made everything all right again.

"Does...does Edward ever kiss you like--"

The mention of her invented, but somehow real lover, brought everything back with a thud. "Oh, God, don't talk about him now! Please!"

"Of course...sorry. If you would excuse me, Maggie...Miss Innsbrook. I should...get away."

Maggie nodded, unable to move her eyes from the beautiful rug on the floor. What would they have done if common sense hadn't taken over? Would he have made love to her on that rug? And what would have happened to her--to them both--after that had happened?

Maggie waited until he was safely out of the room before sinking into the chair again with a sigh. A thought struck her. She stood up and almost immediately ran upstairs, back to her room, back to the drawer where she had hidden Pride and Prejudice. Knowing she would have privacy in the library, she went back down there in case someone wanted to speak to her. When she flopped back into the chair she had been sitting in, she opened the book. She didn't bother trying to find the chapter she had stopped at, even though she knew things had radically changed. She had to know now how it would end. Maybe there, she would figure out why she was trapped in a literary world.

So Maggie read the ending.

It was many years before Elizabeth could bring herself to ask her friend if she had been the mysterious benefactor who had given her the means to marry her beloved Mr. Wickham.

"Oh, dear God!" Maggie gasped. "Elizabeth and Wickham? How could that have happened?"

Mrs. Darcy confessed that she had convinced "her William" to give Wickham another chance, believing the man to be sincere when he said he had been redeemed himself through the love of a good woman--Elizabeth. And even though he had refused to have Wickham as his own rector, citing the severe hardship it would cause his sister, he had provided him with an opportunity elsewhere. It was Mrs. Darcy herself, however, who had given Wickham the "inheritance" which boosted his fortunes.

"My dear Maggie," Elizabeth said with a smile, "how can I ever thank you?"

Maggie groaned aloud, then went back to where she had been when she stopped.

The first evening of Elizabeth's stay brought a startling announcement from Mr. Darcy to those present--he had, at some point during that day, made an offer of marriage to Bingley's cousin, Miss Margaret Innsbrook, and she had accepted. No one said anything--not for lack of words, but merely their own astonishment, for no one had known how long Mr. Darcy had had an attachment to the young lady. Least of all the lady herself, Maggie thought.

Then, in a flurry of emotion, Bingley rose and shook Mr. Darcy's hands in congratulations, his words confirming his actions. He was, Elizabeth noted, genuinely pleased with both his dear friend and his lovely cousin. Elizabeth also took note of the Bingley sisters' reactions--first that of Louisa, who looked on mutely in shocked horror, and then Caroline Bingley, who was not only horrified, but infuriated. And, being such a lady, incapable of saying anything more than the briefest of felicitations on Margaret's good fortune. Maggie knew that Caroline would tear her hair out the moment they were alone.

As for herself, Elizabeth knew not what to think. Although she did not care for Mr. Darcy, she noticed that his appearance had...softened. He suddenly did not seem the man who could make such a callous remark as he did at the assembly ball, and it was remarkable to Elizabeth that such a short period of time had changed him. Still, she thought, a woman's love changed many a man's heart, and Mr. Darcy appeared to be no exception. And she also had to admit that the future Mrs. Darcy was the picture of happiness and contentment. Elizabeth was able to offer her best wishes with deepest sincerity and belief that they would be happy.

Maggie set the book down, troubled. If Elizabeth didn't marry Darcy, then what was the book about? What was the point? Before she had been thrown into this world, she had known what the book was about and how it would end better than she'd known anything else. And now, it seemed, the old adage of "every action having an equal and opposite reaction" was true. Every time she screwed up, something changed in the novel. Her arrival had caused Darcy's interest in her. Their kiss this afternoon, apparently, was going to bring a proposal. And their marriage...their marriage...

Their marriage would send Elizabeth to Wickham. And only God knew what would happen then, to Elizabeth and Wickham, and to herself. Why would Elizabeth marry Wickham anyway?

Maggie continued reading, and soon it became clear. Her appearance triggered a completely different story for Elizabeth. She met Wickham, who tried to turn her against Darcy again, but the day after she met him, Maggie mentioned that she had heard he was there and confided a secret--he had tried to elope with her sister, as well as Darcy's. He had no money, and he was a wastrel. Maggie wouldn't have been surprised to read that Elizabeth spurned her knowledge as being misled by Darcy, but she didn't. She believed her, for the same reason she had believed Darcy--because to reveal the "truth" would cause a scandal.

The rest of the novel, then, was a peculiar story about the reformation of a rake. Wickham soon realized that he was in love with Elizabeth, and tried to mend his ways. Soon, however, he cannot escape his past, and runs away. Instead of Lydia eloping with Wickham, creating scandal for the Bennets, Elizabeth realizes that he has changed and tries to...

Dear God, this is so stupid! Jane Austen would never have written this! This is so Gothic-like, so vapid, so...ridiculous!

It seemed as though she had never looked at the book she was holding before, because it was no longer Jane Austen's book. The author's name was missing altogether, something she hadn't noticed since she had arrived.

Maggie sighed. So much was going wrong that she just needed a long minute to take it all in. Darcy was, at any moment, going to ask her to marry him. Saying yes would bring about everything that this novel was suddenly saying. Saying no...

God help me, I don't want to say no. I want to say yes, my darling William, if I may call you that, I want to marry you and be your wife and bear your children and live happily ever after. I don't want to have to do any more working in nine-hour shift on my feet, waiting tables and kissing up to people so they'll leave me a little something when they're gone. I don't want to wonder what I'm going to do with my life when I'm done with college. I just want to be with you always because I love you.

Maggie sat up suddenly. Did she love Darcy? He had always been the embodiment of the man she'd love to marry--well, in the end, anyway. But love? So soon? To a man that she knew wasn't real? But as she had asked herself so many times--what was real?

Right now, he was real. And so was she. And she knew with absolute certainty that she was in love with him.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. She heard the footsteps, and then a cautious voice saying, "Miss Innsbrook? Maggie? Are you still in here?"

Taking a deep breath as she stood up, Maggie said, "I'm still here, Mr. Darcy."

"Good...because I believe we need to talk about something very important."

Part 9

Maggie was ready to scream. No, not now, not when I don't know what to do! Not when everything inside of me tells me to say yes, and I know in my mind that I have to say no!

"Miss Innsbrook?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy."

"I know what you must be feeling right now. I have felt it, too...very confused, unsure of yourself. I must confess, I had no intention of...well, I did not intend to kiss you."

"That's all right. I didn't intend to kiss you, either."

"Miss Innsbrook, I know how that must have sounded--"

"Yet you care to tell me not to take it the wrong way."

"I care all too much, Miss Innsbrook. And that is the trouble." And then came the words that Maggie was all too familiar with. "In vain have I struggled..."

"Stop!" she cried. "If you have had to struggle, perhaps it is for the best that what you're about to say remains unsaid."

"I must say it now, or I may never have the chance to do so again." Darcy cleared his throat. Maggie could tell by the way he couldn't even stay in one place that he was nervous...but he didn't seem to be confident, which Maggie expected he would be.

After all, he took more liberties and showed more affection to me than he ever did to Elizabeth, and his proposal to her was almost a statement and not a request.

"Miss Innsbrook, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

"What? You've barely known me a week!"

"I've known you for almost two years! Since you were presented to society--do you not remember, Miss Innsbrook?"

Oops. My mistake. I've barely known him for a week.

"But we have not had much opportunity to..."

"Well, I know--" He seemed to struggle to find the right words...finally, he found what he wanted to say. "I love you, Maggie. I'd denied to myself for so long, saying you were too impulsive and you did not have the proper...well, you must admit that you have a tendency to treat people of rank the same way as you treat the servants."

"Considering the fact that I treat the servants very well, that should not be too bad. And if you're insinuating that I don't treat your pompous aunt with respect, that's because she doesn't respect me. I don't respect those who don't give me the same courtesy."

"That is why I love you! You are one of the most honest people I know, which is not a trait society likes, but...I do. I like a little honesty in my life. I like being liked for more than just the fortune I inherited. And you're so open. You have little reserve, you bring out the best in everyone...especially my sister. Do you not remember when you first met her, she was only fourteen, and so shy. Within days, you had her showing off her skills on the pianoforte to everyone who was visiting, and she was not nervous at all."

"I remember, Mr. Darcy."

"Don't call me that. At this stage, please, call me William. It is what I prefer." Maggie merely nodded, although she had no plans to do so anytime soon. "Maggie, I had feelings for you then, and I tried to resist them, because I knew I was supposed to marry my cousin, Miss Anne de Bourgh. She's been expecting it for years, and her mother all her life. But when you stumbled back into my life...into my chamber...a few days ago, I could not help finally falling in love with you." He moved in closer. Maggie could not bear to take the step back she knew she should take.

"Tell me you do not feel the same way."

Maggie searched her mind for anything to say. Finally, she thought of something. "But Edward..."

"I know not how or when you met my cousin, because he has not once mentioned you."

"Does he mean nothing to you, because you have never heard him speak of me?"

"What does he mean to you? How can you profess to care for someone as you say you care for Edward and at the same time allow me to--"

"It was a mistake on my part, I confess. One I shouldn't have made, but--"

"So you felt nothing?" Darcy's voice lowered, uncertain, hurt. Maggie had always thought heartbreak to be a figure of speech, but she would've sworn that right then, she felt her heart literally breaking.

"I'm not saying that, either."

"Then what are you saying, Maggie? I am, for my part, so confused now that I do not know what is happening. All I do know is that I love you, and you would make me the happiest man alive if you would consent to be my wife."

He'd finally done what he'd set out to accomplish. He'd actually asked her to marry him. So now what do I do? she wondered. She supposed she could give him the song and dance about "not being unaware of the honour," and all that garbage, but he deserved better and she knew it. Besides, he probably wouldn't accept that for an answer.

When Maggie failed to answer for a minute, Darcy asked softly, "Do you love me, Maggie?"

"Why are you doing this to me?" she cried aloud, more to God than to the man who was standing before her. "Why am I here? Why can I not be at home, with my parents, and this book going the way it's supposed to go! Why did I have to come between you and the woman you are supposed to fall in love with? Why is she going to marry Wickham? Why!" Maggie burst into tears.

It took her a moment to realize that Darcy had pulled her into his arms had held her close, in a comforting embrace. Maggie didn't care. She just continued crying. "It's all right, Maggie love. It's all right," he crooned, burying his face in her golden red curls.

"It's not okay," she said. "You don't understand. This isn't supposed to be happening. I'm not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to...this isn't the way it's supposed to go."

"You mean you...do not love me."

"No! That's not what I'm saying at all."

Darcy's eyes brightened. "Then you do love me?"

"I--that is beside the point. I..." Dear God, what am I doing? I can't tell him that he isn't real! He'll think me mad! Maybe he'll tell Bingley to send me to an insane asylum! Maybe that's where I belong!

"Maggie, you are still confusing me."

"I do not mean to, I just..."

"Then please. All I want is an answer to my question. Do you love me or not? You do not even have to agree to marry me today, I shall not care. I just want some assurance that my endeavor has not been in vain."

Maggie wished with all her heart that she knew what the right thing to say was. Saying yes meant dooming Elizabeth to an unhappy life with Wickham, since Maggie sincerely doubted that he could ever reform. Saying no meant breaking Darcy's heart...and yet...

"Do you?"

Maggie took a deep breath, steadied her courage, and without any fear (well, none that she would acknowledge), said, "Yes. Yes, my darling William, I love you." Closing her eyes as tears began rolling down her cheeks, she whispered, "But I can't marry you."

Part 10

Maggie could sense Darcy's confusion. "But my dear, why can you not marry me? I do not understand."

"You said you would accept my love and not press the marriage issue," Maggie said. "Please don't go back on your word."

Darcy frowned. "I would leave you alone, except you said you cannot marry me. I think I am entitled to know why you said that."

Maggie pulled away from him. "Look," she said, "I am not supposed to be here. This isn't the way it's supposed to go."

"You've said that before, and I am more confused every time you say it. What are you speaking of?"

"I wish I could tell you."

"You may tell me anything, Maggie."

"No, I can't! I can't tell you this. You wouldn't believe me...you might send me away, and I don't want...I need to...maybe that would be best, anyway!"

"I would never send you away."

"You...listen to me. I don't know how I came to be here or why it happened, but this isn't real. This didn't even get written about in the book. And every time I think something is real, it gets changed."

"If you think this merely a dream, Maggie, fear not. It is all real. I assure you that I have thought many a time that this might be a dream, that I shall wake up to find the passionate, intelligent woman I fell in love with to be gone. But it is all real, my darling. You are real, and so am I. There is nothing to stop us from being together."

Maggie had struggled greatly with what she had to do. Finally, she picked up the book, took a glance at it again, and gasped in horror.

The title of the book was gone altogether. The cover of the book was blank, with nothing written on it at all. Maggie quickly opened the book, where she saw that instead of typewritten words and Jane Austen's prose, there were handwritten words...in her handwriting. Maggie sank into the chair, reading the opening page.

I awakened this morning into the strange world of Netherfield. I am unsure of why I am here, why my parents are now dead and I am left alone in the care of cousins, but I no longer curse my fate as I once did. I must confess, for a moment I panicked--and accidentally ended up in Mr. Darcy's bedchamber. I was so humiliated that I fainted again.

Yet Mr. Darcy himself has changed. He was..polite, if a bit astonished, at our meeting again in the park later that day. Of course, it would have helped if I had been wearing more than just a thin dress. Lord, how could I have done that? How mortifying!

Tears once again welled in Maggie's eyes. Now the only proof she had that he was only a fictional character was gone. And she was trapped in Netherfield--forever. She burst into tears again, and again, Darcy comforted her.

"Please excuse me," Maggie said quietly. "I need---I need to be alone."

"Forgive me for pressing you to answer," Darcy said. "I should have been more gentlemanly."

"No, no. It isn't you. It's me. There's something really wrong, and I...I cannot help but..." Maggie didn't finish, but rather returned to her room, running past a startled Caroline Bingley, who called after her to stop running. Maggie ignored her, slamming her door behind her.

Coming to her bed, she collapsed on it, sobbing. I'm never going home! My parents, my sister...my life there. I want to go home! God, why are you doing this to me? How long she spent crying, Maggie didn't know. But after a while, she looked at the book which had caused her so much grief, and she noticed something peculiar.

Pride and Prejudice. Still no author, but the title had returned.

What is going on here? Why did the title and contents disappear just as I was about to show it to Darcy? Why do things change every time I do something? What am I supposed to do to make things right now?

Maggie opened the book, and once again, saw that the first line was the one she was familiar with. With trembling hands, Maggie turned back to the first evening of Elizabeth's visit.

Elizabeth noticed something between Mr. Darcy and her friend, and the tension was evident to the others of the party as well, for Miss Bingley did not hesitate to cut her cousin down the moment she was out of the room. Elizabeth could not help but think that it was very rude of her to say such things about a cousin, but did not reply. She knew Miss Bingley's reasons, foolish though they were.

Maggie read a bit further until she reached the second day of Elizabeth's visit. And it was there that she got her great idea.

The following morning, as everyone was sitting for breakfast, a maid came in, her terrified voice crying out that Miss Maggie was missing. Miss Bingley insisted that her cousin had merely wandered off somewhere and had gotten lost, and she would eventually find her way home. Her brother, however, thought that perhaps they should search for her, and Mr. Darcy was equally adamant that they do so.

Breakfast and any other morning activity was spoiled, disappointing Mr. Hurst, who had wanted some sport. Miss Bingley reluctantly agreed to help look for her cousin, and then tried to join Mr. Darcy in his search--but he would have none of it. He knew which paths Miss Innsbrook took, he said, and he would search them. Miss Bingley would be better off going with her sister and brother to search. Miss Bennet, concerned about her sister yet just as concerned about her friend, asked a servant to look after Jane so she could search for Miss Innsbrook. She meant to look for Miss Innsbrook in the park as well, since she was not a great horsewoman as the Bingley sisters were.

Maggie smiled. Of course. She would run away, and maybe, in that park, Darcy and Elizabeth would get to know each other better. Perhaps she could arrange...but she would have to have money in order to run away.

Are you not an heiress? Just how much of an inheritance are we talking here?

Then, the more sensible side of her thought, you wouldn't survive two minutes in this world. You know no one, and nothing.

But Maggie wasn't caring. She had to get away from Darcy, and she had to get him together with Elizabeth. She just knew that the story had to turn out right if she had any chance of getting home.

Maggie joined everyone for dinner, and following the meal, asked Charles if she could speak to him privately.

Once they were alone in his library, she asked, "Charles, how large is my fortune?"

"Maggie, you needn't concern yourself--"

"I know, but I need to know. Please?"

"Well...with your holdings...the estate was not entailed away from you. You have a clear fortune of thirty thousand pounds, and the estate of Shawcross, which provides about two or three thousand a year."

Thirty thousand...that's about fifteen hundred a year. "What about Danielle?"

"She inherits with you. She has her separate fortune, just as you do. But your parents always felt that you would eventually take Shawcross, as you always considered it home more than Danielle did."

Maggie nodded, smiling. "Thank you." Maggie began making her plans right then.

And she refused to be scared.

Part 11

Maggie made her escape after the servants had gone to sleep. It was nearly one when she quietly opened the door and darted out of the house.

Earlier in the evening, under the pretense of feeling ill, she had asked to be alone after dinner and had sneaked into Darcy's room, swiping a shirt, jacket, pair of breeches, and a cravat. The outfit was ridiculously huge, but the cravat held the breeches in place and the jacket covered up her feminine curves, and she intended to keep a cape close to her. To anyone who noticed, she might be a boy...except for her hair.

To take care of that, Maggie grabbed a hat that looked like a smaller version of one Abraham Lincoln would have worn...or should she say that he would wear in the future? By piling her hair at the top of her head, she was able to hide it with the hat. Now she just looked like a boy in his father's clothing, and she would probably not be noticed by anyone.

The one thing she felt guilty over was what she had had to take some money from Charles' study. He had a locked drawer full of money, and she had helped herself to some of it. Writing, "Sorry, Charles. I shall pay you back one day," and not signing the note, Maggie tucked part of the money in one boot (which was unfortunately a good fit--Maggie's feet had earned her the nickname "Bigfoot" in junior high), part of it in the other, and had the rest of it tucked in a knotted handkerchief in one of her coat pockets. In the other pocket was her copy of Pride and Prejudice.

And so she took off, not wanting to steal a horse even if she knew how to ride one. The darkness was a little unnerving, and the weather had turned--the air was chilly, and frost was forming all around her. Maggie pulled her cape, also "borrowed" from Darcy, closer around her. Still, she could not prevent her teeth from starting to chatter as she walked further away from Netherfield, hoping to get to Meryton before morning, where she could take a coach to Somerset, or London, if she had to do that.

Maggie kept off the main roads, for although she had taken a dueling pistol, she had no ammunition for it and wouldn't know how to use it if she did. She wasn't in the mood to run into highwaymen. And so her trip continued.

There was one thing working in Maggie's favor as she made her daring escape--the fact that very few who lived in Meryton had actually met her. She had not left Netherfield except to attend the party at Lucas Lodge, and hopefully, anyone who had met her there would not be awake in the early morning hour.

Maggie was afraid that nothing would be open when she reached the town at seven-thirty, tired, cold, hungry, and a little dirty. But her luck held, and there was a small, somewhat seedy boarding-house serving breakfast. Maggie walked in and asked to speak to the owner.

The proprietress was an older woman with several missing teeth and a suspicious look on her face as she took a sharp look at the slight figure. Maggie's cheeks were flushed with cold, which she hoped would keep the woman from noticing her appearance much. After a long look, the woman said, "Wot's a boy like ye doin' alone? Don't you 'ave family of yer own?"

Maggie wasn't sure if she should answer honestly or not. "My father died a year ago, wi' my mother," she said, hoping that she had been able to sound authentic in accent and in gender, for she had dropped her voice much lower. "All I 'ave is me clothes and enough money for a coach to London." Maggie gave the woman what she hoped was a 'leave me alone' look, which apparently worked, for the woman led her to a table and, a few minutes later, sent a serving girl with a plate.

Maggie ate with a hunger she'd never had, afraid that someone might take the plate from her at any moment. When she was finished, she paid the proprietress and was about to give the server a gold coin for her trouble when she wondered if she was supposed to do that. Back home, she definitely would have left a couple of bucks.

Deciding to drop it under the plate, she left quickly, not sure where she could find a coach to take her to London. She stopped at in front of a lawyer's office, where a man was unlocking his door.

"Excuse me, sir!" she called. "Could you help me?"

The man turned, frowning. "Go away."

"Oh, but sir, I need to get to London. Is there a coach or something I could take to get there?"

The man looked back at her again, taking a good look. "I have no idea. Now good day."

Maggie mumbled a curse under her breath and realized as she saw no one else around that she wasn't going to get any help. This is a complete disaster, she thought. Now what am I going to do? Not only have I made a complete fool of myself, but I've just given Caroline Bingley the ammunition to destroy me altogether. And the only thing Darcy will think is that I'm charming and high-spirited. Oh, God! I'm going to be here forever!

Maggie wanted to cry, but began to make the long trek back to Netherfield. Maybe she could sneak through the secret passage and get back to her room and pretend the whole thing had never happened.

The day was surprisingly warm, and Maggie took off the cape and tossed it along the way. Carriages occasionally passed along the road, and Maggie scurried away at the sight of each one. Twice on the path she had been able to hear someone coming before they saw her, and she ducked out of sight. But slowly, she began to find herself on familiar paths, and knew she was back at Netherfield.

It was along one road that she heard two voices coming her way. Once again, not wanting to be seen, she hid behind some bushes and listened. Occasionally, she could see something.

"Are you so convinced that she is somewhere here?" the female voice asked. "Mr. Bingley said that she had taken money."

"I know Miss Innsbrook all too well--it is just a ruse to make us think she is gone," the male voice replied.

Maggie almost smiled. So she had finally gotten Darcy and Elizabeth alone together. Too bad that they weren't more interested in each other.

"What if she is not? Did you not also say that she had taken some articles of...well, clothing, from you?"

"She...well, Maggie...Miss Innsbrook is an unusual girl. There are times when I think her mad, but others..."

"You thought that about her as well? Once or twice, I believe she has been trying to make me think better of you, and I cannot imagine why."

Darcy stopped walking. "That is what she was doing," he breathed.

"What?"

"Oh, Miss Bennet, it is nothing...but I do not know why..."

"You are not making sense, Mr. Darcy, and it alarms me. What did Maggie do?"

"What exactly did Maggie say that made you think that she was making you think better of me?"

"I should probably keep such things in strictest confidence, but I must confess that she made good causes for...er, Mr. Darcy, I must confess something else before...I heard what you said about me at the assembly ball."

"Oh, God...Miss Bennet, I apologize for my thoughts. I...I should not have said them. But you should not have listened to them."

"You spoke loud enough to be heard in Derbyshire."

"I did not."

"I heard you, and I was not all that close to you."

"You were going to say something about Miss Innsbrook."

"Right. She told me that you probably had not meant it, that it was only natural for you to say it, and you had probably...well, I think she may have been exaggerating when she said that you had changed your opinion."

There was a heavy silence, and Maggie was afraid to even breathe for fear of being heard and ruining this moment.

"You do not have to say that you have...I do not think you dishonest, and please do not prove me wrong by being so."

"Yet none of it was for herself..." he said.

"None of what?"

"Miss Innsbrook has been trying to...prove herself most unsuitable. I have taken...well, an interest in her, even though I thought that she was intentionally pretending not to be interested in me, which I abhor. And now I discover, only after she is gone, that she was never interested...surely she had to be. She said..."

"Mr. Darcy, perhaps we should adjourn to the house. I can see that you are unwell."

"That may be best, Miss Bennet. I am beginning to think you right when you said that she is gone from Netherfield."

The two began to walk away. Once she was assured that they were gone, Maggie stood up, brushing dirt and leaves from her jacket and breeches. She wanted to cry, because she knew that this might just well be the end. Darcy had realized that she had tricked him for a different purpose...and even though she'd said she loved him...

But she had to stay away. Darcy would eventually forget about her. Once he was married to Elizabeth, then she could return. Tears blinded her eyes as she aimlessly stumbled along an unknown path, Maggie found herself suddenly standing before a deserted cottage.

She had a feeling that she had just found her hideaway.

Part 12

The door to the old cottage opened easily, and with slow, tentative steps, Maggie walked inside. For all the cottage's outside appearance, it was actually rather clean. Inside was a large bed that had been made with fresh sheets against one wall, with a window high above the head of the bed. Next to the bed were two large cedar chests. Across the room from the bed was a small table, with two chairs. And of course, there was a fireplace--something Maggie would not be able to use, as the smoke might bring her to someone's attention. She had been able to see the top of the house from the door of the cottage, so although she was far away, she could still be seen.

Because the place was so clean, Maggie was afraid that someone else lived there, and that she would be forced to abandon her plan of staying. But when she opened the two cedar chests, one only held heavy blankets, the other was empty. No clothes. The place was abandoned, and Maggie would stay.

With a small sigh of relief and yet disappointment, Maggie flung her cape and hat into a chair. She pulled the shoes off her feet, careful with them because they still contained the money she'd borrowed from Charles. The coat and breeches soon followed. Left in only a long white shirt which fell to just past her knees and a skimpy pair of underpants, Maggie immediately felt cold. She dove for the apparent warmth of the bed, which was indeed warm and soothing.

Only then did she let herself think about what was going on. She thought about what she was supposed to do now that she was hidden from sight, and could not imagine how she was to bring it about. She had tried to detract attention from herself. She had tried to bring attention intentionally. She had tried to persuade both of them to think better of the other. And yet nothing had truly worked. Elizabeth might find Darcy less abrasive, but she did not feel anything close to love for him. And Darcy! He was in love with her! Not Elizabeth! Her He had not once thought of Elizabeth as being pretty since Maggie had stumbled into his life.

Maggie turned to the only thing she could turn to for a guide, even if it was getting more and more strange and might turn into something else at a moment's notice. Her dog-eared copy of the book was become more worn every time Maggie saw it, but since she practically carried it everywhere, that was not surprising.

Two mornings following the first of her disappearance, with still no earthly idea where Miss Innsbrook might have gone, Mr. Bingley was forced to send for a constable, telling him that he feared Miss Innsbrook had been kidnapped or even worse, killed by a robber when she had disappeared. The affect this action had on his party was not a pleasing one. His sisters were both contrite, as they felt they may have been the cause of Maggie's unhappiness. Why else would she have left? Charles himself was feeling unhappy, for he knew how much Maggie had hated being at Netherfield, and knew with absolute certainty that if he had left her in Somerset, she would have been happy. That must have been why she had asked about her inheritance. He sent a messenger to her home, and asked the people who lived in the small town near there to send him word if Maggie should appear there. But within the next couple of days, when there was no message, he feared that Maggie had not been able to get to Somerset. Or that it had never been her destination.

Mr. Darcy was especially depressed, for he had believed that he had driven Maggie out of the house with his ardour for her. With each day that passed, he could see her motives in a far more noble, yet far less understandable light. It was clear to him that Maggie had wanted him to court Miss Bennet, not her cousin, and certainly not Maggie herself. But why? She had barely known the young woman, even less than he himself knew her. It was a quandary he puzzled over for many days, and yet he could not help but find himself noticing Miss Bennet more.

As for Elizabeth, she was by turns concerned about her sister, who although better was still quite weak, and her friend, who was missing and whose fate was still uncertain. As four more days passed and Jane was well enough to leave her bed, and thus almost well enough to go home, Elizabeth asked her if she would be willing to stay at Netherfield until Maggie was found. Jane, of course, was more than willing to comply, and thus a note was sent to Longbourn, explaining not that Miss Innsbrook was missing (for their mother so dearly loved to gossip) but that the Bingley sisters had extended their invitation for a week, which they had.

Mrs. Bennet was quite delighted by the news, even if her husband was not. She wrote immediately, insisting that they were to stay even longer if the Bingley sisters would wish it. Mr. Bennet thought that perhaps at least Elizabeth could come home, since he was certain that she was not enjoying her time at Netherfield even with the company of Bingley's cousin, but he said nothing on the matter. In a small footnote, Mrs. Bennet mentioned that Longbourn's inheritor, Mr. Collins, was supposed to arrive within the next couple of days. But, she added, he would certainly understand why the eldest two were not able to meet him upon his arrival.

Maggie could not prevent herself from chuckling. That certainly sounded like the Bennets.

The constable returned the following morning to report that a young boy had been seen in Meryton the same morning Maggie was discovered missing. The odious woman who owned the boarding-house mentioned that she had wondered about him, since he was dressed very well and had left a coin for his server. Also, the clothes were far too large for his frame and, even indoors, the boy had worn a large cape which covered him from neck to feet. When asked about the color of the boy's hair, she seemed to recall that it had been reddish in color, but most of it was hidden by a large hat. Yet it was, in the end, the eyes which confirmed that the boy had been Maggie...green as grass, the woman said. When asked if she knew where the "boy" had been headed, she said that she believed he was headed for London.

Mr. Bingley immediately sent couriers to his house in London, and the one the Innsbrooks had owned for several years, even though he had thought Maggie would prefer returning to her country home. He also sent a message to the attorney who had been handling Innsbrook's affairs since Maggie was a baby, to tell him that Maggie might try to contact him and to inform Netherfield at once if she did. Yet the news of her destination did not lift the spirits of the family, for there was still a great deal of doubt. Maggie could still have been kidnapped or killed.

Maggie sighed. So much for trying to contact the solicitor to get some more money. Not that she really needed it now that she was staying in the cottage--at least until Darcy and Elizabeth found their way to each other. Perhaps that was what she was supposed to do all along--be a distraction that would eventually bring them together, yet not cause all the pain and heartache that would follow after the Netherfield ball.

If there was a Netherfield ball.

Maggie continued reading.

Every evening, following dinner, the party retired into the drawing room. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley were busy working on their needlework, strangely silent. Although Miss Bingley had the great opportunity to show herself to Mr. Darcy as someone who loved him in the absence of her cousin, she felt that perhaps, the subtle tactic would work better. So she remained quiet, except for her occasional sigh about hoping Maggie would turn out to be all right. Jane quietly played the piano, soft, sweet, yet sad pieces reflecting the mood and the young lady who had inspired it. Mr. Bingley chose music for her, and although they did not speak much on the subject, it was apparent to all that they were becoming closer. Mr. Bingley was surprised that neither his sisters nor his friend seemed to disapprove of his clear interest in Miss Bennet, yet he knew they were thinking of other things and would not approve were it not for them.

Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy sat on the couch, occasionally speaking about their friend but mostly keeping to themselves and their thoughts. Neither thought the other rude for doing so. Besides, both did much of their speaking and reminiscing on the paths together, when they met and continued on their futile quest to find their missing friend. Although it was apparent Maggie had planned to go to London, Mr. Darcy could not help but think that she might not have gotten there, either because she changed her mind or had found herself in trouble. So they continued to look.

Maggie sighed. Anything she did would be done in the dead of night, then. Or else they might find her.

As night fell, and all the lights in the large house were vanquished, Maggie put her clothes back on and headed for the secret passage that Darcy had told her about. One of the paths led straight into the kitchen, where the servants had banked the fire for the night. Maggie knew there wouldn't be leftovers waiting for her in a refrigerator, like there was at home, but she was determined to find something to eat.

Rummaging through drawers and cabinets, Maggie found a large loaf of bread, freshly-baked sweet biscuits that were to be served with breakfast in the morning, and cheese. Some roast beef had been simmering overnight, and Maggie helped herself to a some of it with the bread and cheese as she glanced every which way, praying she wouldn't be discovered. When she had eaten her fill, she took the remainder of the bread and cheese along with the sweet biscuits and headed for the wine cellar. She was going to need something to drink.

Several days passed in this fashion, just as the book had said they would. Maggie sneaked out in the evenings to find food, which she always managed to, and sneaked back. If anyone noticed what she had taken, they probably blamed it on one of the servants...which was not what Maggie would wish, but was something that could not be avoided. Twice, she had sneaked back to her own room to take a couple of dresses with her, without the stupid shoes or undergarments, except a chemise. She also took a nightgown and pair of slippers. One other time, she sneaked into Charles' library and took four thick books back with her to read. One of them turned out to be a book of Shakespeare, and Maggie voraciously began to read it first.

All in all, Maggie could not have asked for a better way to spend her time...well, if she could not have Darcy, and she knew she couldn't. She was warm under all the blankets, fed as best as she could be, and she kept herself entertained. Yet she could not keep herself from thinking about Darcy, about his rare smiles and his dark eyes and the way his mouth felt when he kissed her and how his body had felt pressed against hers and...and there she had to stop thinking. It was too painful. Every evening, she reread the book to see if anything had changed, and nothing really had (except for a small mention of the missing biscuits by Caroline--of course).

And then one late afternoon, nearly two weeks later, Maggie decided to have a bath. The cottage itself had no bathtub, but it was near a beautiful pond that Maggie had not discovered during her early walks in the park. Since she had not found it, she reasoned that no one else had, either. Therefore, it would be safe. As the sun fell low in the sky, Maggie knew that she had to have the bath now or else the sun and its warmth would be gone completely and she would catch pneumonia. Stripping out of the cape (which she wore every time she went out) and then the rest of her clothes, Maggie blushed a furious pink at being completely nude out in the open, but was determined to have her bath. Besides, you dolt, there's no one here to see you.

The water was a bit nippy, but it was not as cold as she had thought. Slowly, bit by bit, she accustomed herself to the water, then finally, she was completely immersed--except her head. She had taken some soap from one of the rooms, a sweet-smelling bar of violets. Soaping herself with that now, she wondered at the delicious feeling of being clean. she dawdled for a while, enjoying the feeling of the cool water. Finally, she wet her hair, keeping the rest of her face out of it. Then she began to lather her hair, a sometimes difficult task since her hair was so thick and difficult. She nearly lost the soap bar twice before she was finished.

By the time she was rinsing her hair, the sun had nearly finished setting, and Maggie was beginning to get really cold. She ducked her entire head under water, and swam around for a couple of minutes before reemerging. Wringing the excess water out of her hair and having water in her ears and eyes, she didn't hear when someone approached the shore...and didn't see who was standing there until she was almost completely out of the water.

With a quick rub of her eyes, Maggie opened them...

And there stood Darcy, half undressed himself, his dark eyes huge in his face...with a look of shock, fury, and awe in his expression.

Continued in Section II