Chapter 1 part 1

"Charles, do you truly mean to tell me that you were in earnest when you declared that you would allow a child to choose the date of your ball?" Miss Bingley demanded as she laid down her book, staring daggers across the sitting room at her older brother.

Her irritation at the very notion did much to silence the other conversations in the room, bringing all eyes upon her in a shocked moment of silence. And to think, Elizabeth had just been thinking that it was becoming rather dull, being trapped inside Netherfield Park with her hosts, Charles and Caroline Bingley, their eldest sister Louisa Hurst and her husband, Elizabeth's dearest sister Jane, and of course, the ever solemn Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. They were confined to one of Netherfield's many sitting rooms, content to pair up in quiet conversation, as Jane and Mr. Bingley had, or read, as Caroline, Louisa and Mr. Darcy were engaged in, or inwardly curse one's knitting needles and lack of patience for such pastimes, as Elizabeth had reluctantly chosen to do. Another stitch slipped and she had to bite her cheek to keep from sighing in exasperation, nearly ready to give up on the useless piece and find a book instead.

"And why should I not?" Bingley asked with some surprise. "I daresay Miss Bennet's youngest sister is quite capable of the task. Besides, there is little enough difference as to which date she chooses, is there not? What is one day over the next when in such pleasant company?" He finished with a small smile directed at Jane, who blushed prettily from her nest of blankets on the settee. It was her first trip downstairs since being ill, and none were taking a chance that she would catch any sort of chill.

Especially Charles Bingley.

They had been completely engrossed in their own quiet conversation for the past half hour, and Mr. Bingley returned to it posthaste, clearly loathe to relinquish the growing intimacy forming between them. Caroline watched their exchange with growing annoyance, her narrowed gaze flicking back and forth between her brother and the object of his affections. Finally she returned her gaze to her book, clearly put out that he would speak no more on the subject.

Mr. Bingley would be a good match for Jane, even if I daresay his sister does not seem to approve, Elizabeth thought. I am certain that she would eventually fall in love with my sister, though, for how could she not? Jane is perfection in itself. Unlike this sad, lumpy excuse for a scarf.

Surprisingly it was Darcy who spoke next, his head raising from his book to look at Elizabeth with the same disquieting intensity that had become his habit since her arrival at Netherfield Park. "I suppose that some would prefer a ball to take place sooner rather than later, simply for the opportunity to socialize in such a congenial setting."

Elizabeth nearly dropped another stitch upon her needle at these words, for she had not thought that Mr. Darcy enjoyed balls or anything else of a social nature. Indeed, it rather seemed that he generally took pains to avoid any appearance of congeniality, instead brooding quietly in corners or retreating altogether. Even in such intimate circumstances as they currently found themselves, he preferred to lend all of his attention to the book in his lap, despite Miss Bingley's repeated attempts to engage him otherwise. He had been equally antisocial the previous evening, ignoring her many entreaties to play cards and instead choosing to pen letters of business, much to her disappointment. That fact that he had roused himself enough to take part in this particular conversation was somewhat of a shock, and as his dark eyes met hers, Elizabeth could only wonder at what true meaning lay behind his words.

"On the contrary," she replied with careful amusement, "I should think that a later date would be of more of a benefit than one sooner. After all, it would be wise for Jane to completely recover from her illness before such an event, as I expect that she will be much in demand as a dance partner. She generally is."

Jane blushed most becomingly and raised her hands in laughing protest. "To make such a decree and, base the date of a ball entirely upon the state of my health is quite ridiculous, Lizzy! I should think the date would be chosen without any consideration toward myself at all."

"I would never dream of it!" Bingley cried, catching her hand on the pretense of tucking it beneath the blanket once more.

Elizabeth hid a smile and, taking pity upon her sister, fastened her attention once more upon Mr. Darcy, whose somber expression indicated that he quite regretted having spoken at all. "Be that as it may," she said, "I suspect the matter will be settled in a more practical manner than out of concern over the health of our oldest sister. Given the time of year, I will not be surprised in the least if Lydia chooses a Christmas ball. After all, it is only a matter of weeks until the holiday, so the timing is amiable. Indeed, I would be quite surprised if she chose another date."

Jane roused from her blankets once more, her face shining with delight. "A Christmas ball! Why that would be perfect, would it not?"

"Christmas?" Miss Bingley repeated the word doubtfully, exchanging a frowning with Mrs. Hurst, who seemed likewise surprised by the pronouncement. "Do people in the country celebrate Christmas with much enthusiasm?"

"I would be surprised if Miss Bennet did anything without enthusiasm," Darcy replied, and picked up his book again, to all appearances looking as though he intended to go on reading, conversation or no. "Especially Christmas."

Elizabeth stiffened, her shoulders going going back in indignation, for while Mr. Darcy's words were benign, his tone was something akin to censuring.

"Pay him no mind," Bingley commented, rising to throw another piece of wood on the fire, though the room was already warm. "Darcy has no love for Christmas."