A few scenes got cut from the final project, but they live on here, for your enjoyment.

Elizabeth woke just after dawn, as she always did. She rolled toward the window and pulled the sheets up over her shoulders. Mr. Darcy had only been gone two days. Aunt Gardiner had called early on each day of his absence, but she was still lonely. It was not as though she had never been alone before, she had, many times. But never before had it mattered.  No one had ever been so necessary for her happiness.  She had been necessary to make others happy, but…had she ever been truly happy before?

No, she had not. She had only mistaken the absence of…of…pain for happiness. How could she have been so mistaken?

Enough lying abed. She strolled to the window and sat on the dainty bench. The curtains parted, allowing her a view of the mews and garden. The morning sunshine caressed the shrubbery, much like the woods outside Rosings in the morning. That was what she needed, a little ramble amidst things green and fresh. She slipped into her morning dress and made her way outside into the garden.

From the street, none might suspect the exquisite bit of wilderness that hid behind the sophisticated town house. So like its master, who hid so much beneath a staid and elegant face. Underneath, there was a touch of raw and unbridled passion. How much longer until he returned home?

She buried her face into a huge, many-petaled peony blossom. Did the Pemberley gardens boast these? Perhaps the housekeeper would know. 

“Lizzy.”

She froze. No, not …, it could not be. The woody stem sprang out of her grasp, raining petals on her feet.

“Lizzy!” Light footsteps approached.

No, it was!

“Am I no longer to expect the courtesy of a reply when I call?”

She turned slowly. “Papa.”

“That is better.” He stared at her with the expectant look he usually wore, the one that demanded without words and flooded her with guilt if she did not immediately attend to whatever he was thinking but did not deign to say.

“How did you get in? Why are you here?”

“Is that any way to greet your father? I strolled in from the mews through an open gate. If you do not wish visitors, then you should advise your staff to keep the gate locked.”

“I believe Mr. Darcy informed you that he did not wish to see you here again.” Were that he was here now to reiterate the sentiment.

“What men say in a fit of pique is not to be trusted.”

“Do you speak for yourself as well?”

Papa’s face colored, soon it would be full on crimson. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You speak readily enough for others. I merely wondered if it was true for you as well.”

“My, you are disagreeable this morning.”

“You need to leave.” She tried to dodge past him, but he caught her elbow.

“I am shocked and appalled at your manners, Lizzy. I would not have thought you to already be putting on airs.”

She yanked her arm from his grasp. “I am obeying the will of my husband.”

“You are not yet married.”

“What do you want?”

“Miss de Bourgh is dead. I will be moving your mother and Kitty to London whilst I work on acquiring the Earl of Matlock’s patronage. They should very much like to stay here with you whilst I do that.”

The spleen! “I am sure they would like that, but it is impossible.”

“If you petition Darcy—”

“I will not.”

“You owe—”

Her hands balled into fists quivering for something to express themselves upon. “I owe you nothing, or have you forgotten how you threw me away? What do I owe you for that?”

“Stop being missish and petty and tell Darcy—”

“No. He has said he does not want you here and I respect his wishes.”

“He will do it if you ask.”

“It matters not, as I shall not ask.”

“I expect obedience.” He reached for her.

She danced away. “You shall find none here.  I no longer owe you that allegiance.”

“Then convince him to write me a proper letter of character.”

“He wrote exactly what he should have, an honest reference, describing you in the most candid way. Is that not what a character letter is supposed to be?”

“What he wrote is unconscionable!”

 “And breaking the seal to read it is not?”

“This is not about me or my behavior.”

“Yes it is, it always has been. Everything is about you, and what you want. I will have no more party to it. If you cannot respect my husband…and me…then you may remove yourself from this house immediately. I do not wish you here either.”

“I will not be spoken to in this manner.”

“Nor will I. Good day, sir.” She spun on her heel and marched toward the house.

His footsteps followed.

From the corner of her eye, the coachman ran toward them. “Madam! Forgive me!” He caught Papa’s arm. “Do you know this man?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“Tell this brute to unhand me, Lizzy.”

She swallowed hard. “He is not welcome here. Please show him out and see that he does not enter the garden or even the mews again. Mr. Darcy will be very displeased to know he was here at all.”

“Yes, madam.” He dragged Papa away.

She ran the rest of the way into the house and slammed the door behind her.