Chapter 1

You would think in a house this big you could avoid running into certain people. For better or worse, William Darcy thought, he would never be able to escape her eyes while they were both under the same roof. He was tortured by this fact, for however hard he tried to pretend it didn't matter to him, whenever he turned to her and for a moment took in the porcelain glow of her face, she would inevitably catch him and send daggers through those lovely blue-gray eyes into his heart. And as a scorpion strikes its feeble and hopeless prey, it stung him, body and soul. His heart would stop, he would quickly look away and feel warm blood come to the surface of his cheeks, then take a few deep breathes to re-orient himself in the room and focus on something else. Something, anything, to take his mind off of Lizzie Bennet. Such was life since she had come to Netherfield.

This would not have been a problem if he could make himself ignore her when they passed in the hallways, sat down to dinner, "relaxed" with the entirety of their party in the lounge... but this was as impossible a thing as asking him to go without water in the desert. Perhaps that would be more fun, he sighed, then being repeatedly forced to make a fool out of himself to this girl- this lovely and exhilarating girl-who obviously loathed him in every way possible. When he thought on their past encounters he considered what in his countenance or treatment of her had bourn such a hatred, such a sourness, toward himself. Lizzie was lighthearted and quick-witted; her ease of conversation and affable nature was almost comically opposite from his own. Perhaps she saw his inability to easily converse or throw himself into new situations as a flaw, smacking of superiority or pride. Perhaps she was insulted by how horribly he had butchered his first opportunity to speak to her at the wedding. That wedding. That cursed garter. He had sounded like a brain trauma patient, which probably came off as unpleasant, uninterested, and anything but happy to be dancing with her.

William Darcy realized that any sane individual in his position would have been elated to entertain the sole focus of a beautiful woman for two whole minutes. But while holding her in his arms, trapped in the gaze of her lively eyes, and sweating profusely with no ability whatsoever to compute thoughts into complete sentences- he truly wasn't happy to be dancing with her. He had grown up in a privileged family, been taught to purport himself as a gentleman, and had worked hard to show himself worthy of his position as head of Pemberley Digital. He was William Darcy, one of the youngest CEOs in the country- and he was being bested by a 24 year old graduate student who had earlier been cackling wildly after performing the robot for her sisters' bemusement. That this woman should render him speechless and incompetent made him embarrassed and angry. From that moment he had decided to reject any thoughts contrary to those reminding himself that she was too bombastic, at times silly and immature, as yet unaccomplished in his understanding, and short. Lizzie Bennet was... short. There, it would not do to dwell on her eyes or the way her dress framed the snow white skin over her collarbone, for she was entirely wrong for him in every way. Indeed, she was the last woman on earth that he could ever like, and that was that.

No sooner had he convinced himself and reassured Bing and Caroline that the middle Bennet sister had no draw for him, adding despite his initial appraisal of her beauty that she was only "decent enough," then he had occasion to see her relaying something of amusement to her friend Charlotte- which in the telling brought such beautiful expression to her face that he briefly lamented his indifference to her. Still, the awkwardness of the dance, and his being made to socialize with so many strangers who had all attained a prior level of comfort with each other he did not share, made it hard to find any further enjoyment in the night. He bid Bing continue dancing with the eldest Bennet sister, with whom he had noticed an entirely unacceptable amount of smiling for two people who had just met to be taking place. Not that he was entirely against smiling or laughter, as he had so often been teased by his sister and Caroline, just the affect of being too generous with them as to represent oneself in a certain manner not in true reflection of one's feelings. Despite his fears that Jane Bennet may be putting on an overly enthusiastic veneer, he did like seeing his friend happy, and decided to retreat to his corner so that the couple could enjoy the evening.

Lizzie spent the rest of the night distastefully eying the man in the corner, who in her mind, had basically refused to talk to her and called her ugly. She joked with Charlotte about how he had bruised her ego, but underneath there was something more upsetting her, she just couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.