For all the world there was only one thing that Darcy wanted than anything else, that one thing would have naught to do with him; for it was that one thing that detested him most of all for actions, for honor, exacted with justice and justice alone. It was his honor, upon his trust and love for a friend and family that he had acted in such a way. The one thing, she, Elizabeth Bennet, did not understand. She detested him like a lady did the most disgusting filth found on the bottom of a horse’s hoof, loathed, and for all intents and purposes she had every right to abhor him so.

He watched her. She was alone, walking in Meriton without even knowing that he was near her. He was near enough to almost catch her scent. To hear the slight whisperings as Elizabeth talked to herself. He heard his name upon her lips. Her brows were furrowed in her thoughts, in her own musings of him. Darcy could only hope that she was turning her mind to thinking of his wellbeing, of the good he has done, and of him as he truly was in this life. Darcy was nothing more than a man in love with a woman, who tried to do right by all, and was so zealous in his protections of those he loved that often there could be mistakes made upon other’s loves. For Darcy himself, he felt no shame in what he did; only the shame that brought about the separation of one of his heart’s most desired presence. The loss of an acquaintance in which, against his better judgment had been stolen from him because of said judgment. A judgment that he always had held in such high regard as one of his best assets which was a particular benefit to his person as to ascertain the trust and love of many friends and acquaintance before. Now it was his undoing toward the one beloved that he had ever met. His judgment had wronged him in such an injustice that he was hardly himself. Not only had he faced the loss, the abrupt manner of Elizabeth’s righteous anger towards him, but he was no longer capable of finding the truth of judgment in order to help himself or his acquaintances.

Here he was, following Elizabeth Bennet, with only the hopes of watching her while he could for as long as her feet carried her within the confines of town. Darcy could only hope that she would long stay in the paths of shops and wander hitherto forever within his sight. He feared for her seeing him, as much as he feared for her not seeing him. Such speculations, such untoward fears were nonsensical and ridiculous to him, but he could not help such feelings where she was concerned. He could not stop these feelings just as much as he could not wish the stop the beatings of his pained heart.

She entered the dwelling of her aunt and uncle. Fearful of being seen Darcy escaped into a shop nearby, just where he could see into the window of their sitting room. Elizabeth was just sitting there looking at the animated face of her dear aunt, but not being animated herself. Darcy could not help but wonder if she were ill. For her to hold her tongue while a loved one so demanded her repose was so unlike her manner that Darcy felt that he should burst into the room and call for the nearest physician. Holding back by the merest tether of restraint, Darcy watched as Elizabeth calmly exited the room. Darcy panicked, to be cut so short from the sight of her, probably never again to chance upon her in such a way again. It was then that he saw movement from the window upstairs. He watched, as Elizabeth paced back and forth in front of this window.

For hours he watched her, growing in her agitation as she seemed to. Darcy could not help but wonder why she was at such a loss from herself. He wished to go to her aunt, to inquire about his beloved health. For surely her health was indeed in time with his. Such feelings of hopelessness was tied into her, hence why she paced back and forth, her agitation. He could hardly hope that it was because she was thinking of him in a new light. Soon she turned away from the window and Darcy could see from the shadows on the wall that she was about to bed. He turned, not wishing to have more of her in his mind than what already was, her image burned in his head oft enough.