(Authors Note: I meant to post this chapter yesterday but I was terribly ill and am still recovering. Hope you guys enjoy it!)

Chapter Seven: Netherfield Ball Part II

Elizabeth couldn't help but glare at Mr. Darcy as he took her hand and escorted her to her place in line. The music had started, and the couples began the dance, a slow and sedate dance where the couples spent entirely too much time near each other, for her taste. She would have much preferred a quadrille. The partners danced for five minutes, neither saying a word to the other, nor taking their eyes off of each other.

"What could he mean," she wondered, "by asking me to dance, and then ignoring me?" Finally she had had enough, and placing a smile on her face, said, "Mr. Darcy, it is odd to dance an entire set without saying a single word. Perhaps you should comment on the weather we are having, or the number of couples?"

Elizabeth thought she detected a slight smile on his lips. "I am sorry but I do not speak unless I can improve the silence."

"Is that so?" Elizabeth laughed, "Well, would you permit me to sully the silence with my silliness?"

"As long as it pleases you," Darcy replied.

"Very well then," Elizabeth thought a moment. "And how have you found your stay in Hertfordshire?"

"Tolerable."

"I admit it is vastly different than town, but I do believe I much prefer the country than the bustle of London."

"I agree."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Please, elaborate."

"Very well," Darcy cleared his throat. "I much prefer spending my time at Pemberly, my home in Derbyshire. Its tranquil landscape and easy pace are much preferable than London. But a man in my position cannot hide himself away in the country if he wishes to maintain friendships and a certain standing in society, especially with a younger sister nearing her debut."

"Yes, I have heard talk of your sister. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst have praised every aspect of that fair maiden."

Darcy pursed his lips, "My sister is very precious to me. I wish for nothing more than her happiness."

"Even if that happiness brings you misery?"

Darcy looked at her quizzically but before he could respond the couples parted. They exchanged partners for a few steps then came back together again. Elizabeth didn't pick up where she left on their conversation, and neither did Darcy wish to extend it. Instead they danced in silence until Sir William, on his way to the punch bowl, spotted them and stopped while they were waiting their turn to walk down the line.

"This is a marvelous Ball, is it not?" He asked, puffing out his chest. "It is always a pleasure when friends gather together. I suspect it won't be long before we are all together for a much happier occasion." Sir Lucas indicated Jane and Bingley, who had just passed them down the line. Sir Lucas bade them farewell, then finished his journey for refreshment.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, hoping to take his mind off of the presumptions of Sir William, "I once heard Miss Bingley declare that you were a man without fault. Is that true?"

"That is not true of anyone, least of all me. I have never claimed to be so, though I do try to rid myself of those vices and habits that weaken ones character."

"Would one of those vices be pride?"

Darcy stared at her, sure she was trying to gain something from this conversation. Elizabeth rarely spoke unless she intended to glean information for herself, or for her own merriment.

"Unfounded pride is a vice but when deserved and well regulated, it is not bad."

"I see," Elizabeth said, then danced in silence.

"To what do I owe this inquisition?" He finally asked.

"Merely trying to sketch your character," she replied, as they made their way down the line, "I hear such varying tales about you, I wish to educate myself from the source."

Darcy frowned, "I would hope you would reserve judgment of my character until after you have known me more intimately."

Elizabeth's eyes widened, "I fear, Mr. Darcy, I may not have that happy chance."

Darcy opened his mouth to speak, but the last strains of music played out, and the couples bowed to each other. Elizabeth thanked him, then quickly walked away. Darcy followed her with his eyes, her graceful movement across the floor, her smiles at friendly faces. He felt a sort of yearning deep within him, a pull towards her as if she were the Sun and he a mere planet, forever rotating around her, yet getting no closer. Elizabeth took some refreshment and was soon joined by that Collins character. The yearning turned to rage, and Darcy promptly left the room for the balcony again, afraid of what he might do.

s-s-s

Around midnight the party retired to a dining room to take refreshment. Long tables were set out with everything one would desire to eat in order to sustain them for a couple more hours of dance and merriment. Collins had insisted on bringing Elizabeth a plate of food, and so she sat next to Jane and Charlotte, talking about the different couples, the proficiency of the musicians, and the graciousness of their host. Charles Bingley was walking around the room, making sure his guests were happy and Elizabeth caught Jane following him more than once.

"I hear Bingley has asked for the last dance?" Elizabeth asked, startling Jane.

"Yes, he quite insisted." Jane smiled then absently picked at the food on her plate.

Mr. Collins returned with a small plate for Elizabeth, "I have just heard that Mr. Darcy, the guest of Mr. Bingley, is none other than the nephew of Lady Catherine De Bourgh. I feel it my duty to inform him of his Aunt's good health."

Elizabeth made to protest, but before she could get a word out, or even rise from the chair, Collins was headed towards Darcy, who was at the other end of the room. Mortified, Elizabeth didn't know whether she should bow her head in embarrassment, or view the social faux pas which was to occur. She glanced up in time to see Collins bow extremely low, lower than she had ever seen him bow, to Mr. Darcy, then speak to him.

Mr. Darcy glared at Collins, "No doubt because of his low station." Elizabeth muttered.

"Excuse me," Elizabeth said, then hastily left the table. She had no idea where she was headed. She had gained a familiarity with the house having lived in it for a week, but now being merely a guest at a ball was unsure as to which rooms were off limits and which were free for her to access. She had spent much of her time in the small library, alone and sequestered from the rest of the house, and decided perhaps she could escape there for a few moments.

Opening the door to the library, she was relieved to see candles were lit, with a fire raging away in the fire place. Seeing these things as a good sign, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. She walked along the wall of books, allowing her fingers to skim the spines as she passed. How she loved the smell of books! Perhaps because of all the time she spent in her Father's study, either reading, or discussing philosophy, art, or any other branch of academia. On more than one occasion she recalled her Father staring at her in a faraway looks, as if wishing her to be the son he had never had.

Elizabeth stopped at the fire, warming her hands with the heat from the flames. They danced and twirled along the logs, giving both light and heat, but she was ever aware of the danger if left unchecked. Sometimes she felt her life was like a fire, burning bright and full, and at other times she could feel it getting so out of control, it threatened to destroy everything around her. How could one man upset her so? How could he come into her life, shake her up so that she acted in the most rash ways?

The opening of the library door startled her. She turned around and could only make out a silhouette against the door frame. She squinted her eyes, detecting a male form. Mr. Collins? No, the shade was too tall. Perhaps Bingley? Would he leave his guests? The form moved further into the room but it wasn't until he was mere feet away that Elizabeth saw it was Mr. Darcy.

s-s-s

Darcy could not remember ever having been accosted as he was by Mr. Collins. A man he knew nothing about, introducing himself in effect claiming an acquaintance. And what was this nonsense about his Aunt, Lady Catherine? He didn't care if this was the King's own physician, he did not wish to be treated with such familiarity! Darcy's eyes looked towards Elizabeth and saw her get up and leave. Darcy excused himself hastily, and followed her out the room. Once in the hall he wondered where she had gone. Then he heard the library door close. Slowly he made his way to the door and touched his hand to the knob. Elizabeth was in there, alone. Should he join her? No, he should not. He dropped his hand as if the knob had been made of fire. What he should do was go directly to his room and go to sleep. Soon he would be far away, and surely then Elizabeth would never again enter his thoughts.

Darcy made to turn around, but he could not move. His feet were planted firmly in front of the library doors. Inside was Elizabeth. His wood nymph! His Elizabeth! He could not picture her with any other man beside himself! He would not! Before he could lose courage he turned the handle and entered the room.

Ah, there she was, before the fire. She was lovely, with the soft glow engulfing her. Never had he seen her so beautiful. He made his way towards her, slowly, afraid to ruin the moment.

"Mr. Darcy!" She cried.

"Miss Elizabeth," he felt his heart quicken within him. They were alone, wholly alone. Never had they been like this since their first meeting.

"I am sorry, but I needed a moment alone and felt this was the only room in the house I might achieve that solitude." She looked pointedly at him.

He barely registered her words, let alone the meaning behind them. He knew, deep within him, that any connection to her would be detrimental to himself and his family. The only benefit of an alliance between them would be entirely on her side. She would gain his name, his good standing, and all the stability his wealth could achieve. He, on the other hand, would gain nothing…excepting herself. He looked down at her hand, gloved within white satin. How he yearned to pull that offending garment off and place his lips to her hand; to feel the warmth and smoothness of her skin. He took a few steps closer, suddenly surrounded by her lavender fragrance. Intoxicating! Women as beautiful as Elizabeth shouldn't be allowed to wear such scents!

"Are you quite alright?" Elizabeth asked, looking up into his eyes.

"Yes," he said, "No." He amended. How did she do this to him? She left him feeling inadequate to the point of speechlessness. "Miss Elizabeth, I must confess how much I admire and love you." Did he just say that? "I know my standing in society all but prohibits me from attaching myself to a family such as yours. I have relations who would be greatly disappointed in my choice. Even I have tried to fight my desires by recalling the many instances of embarrassment your family members have exhibited. I do not care! You must make me the happiest of men and give me your hand in marriage."

s-s-s

Elizabeth stared at him, open mouthed. Did he just insult her couched within a proposal? Oh, how absurd! If she hadn't been so offended she might have found it hilarious.

"Mr. Darcy," she spoke as calmly as she could, remembering her promise to Charlotte to be civil. "I thank you for your proposal. I am well aware of the benevolence of your offer, but I must decline it."

Darcy's face, having before shown signs of happiness, now was replaced by his trademark frown. "Decline? May I ask why?"

"Oh, bother," she thought. "Mr. Darcy, I do not wish to be the wedge that comes between you and your family. Nor do I wish to be forever reminded of the low station you so graciously plucked me from."

Darcy turned away from her, and paced the floor. "This is all? I state the truth of what our union would be and you take umbrage?"

"Umbrage?!" She said aloud, thoughts of being civil having long departed. "You say I will cause discord between your family, that I am lower than you, but never mind because you desire me? I would have passed this off as mere ridiculousness among the rich and entitled, but it is your pride that so detests me and causes me to refuse you. Your pride, sir, which has oozed from every word, every gesture you have made since we first met. Indeed, stories of your pride have reached my ears from Mr. Wickham, a man who has been debased and most grievously abused by your pride. But the fact is I do not love you. No sir, I shall not submit myself to be your wife for I would find it degrading and beneath myself, and nothing on this Earth could make me change my mind."

With those words Elizabeth departed the room without looking back. Darcy stumbled to the nearest chair to digest all that had been said. He had spoken truly. Lady Catherine and the Earl of Matlock would most likely voice their displeasure with his choice of bride. It would be the cause of some discord at least for a while, among his family. And her situation in life was decidedly below his. These are truths and no amount of hurt vanity could make it otherwise. And his pride was warranted, to a degree. The mere mention of his familial name opened doors within society. But that she would take whatever the vile creature, Wickham, has said about him as gospel without verifying any particulars! Her prejudices against him were set forth early on, and he had no doubt Wickham played off of them like a musician commands his instrument.

A mixture of emotions swirled within him; anger, disappointment, jealousy, doubt. That a mere girl from the country could render him so! He had the power to wipe away the bleak future that loomed over her head and she dismissed him like a mere boy. Well, among his characteristics she had failed to notice his stubborn nature. He was not yet ready to admit to the faults within his pride, but his anger caused him to declare Elizabeth Bennet would be his, by any means possible.