Once they arrived at the restaurant, Liz was impressed by the attention they received. The manager came out to greet them personally, and walked them to an impeccably prepared table. He offered them drinks, and the service was exceptionally fast. Once their drinks were delivered, and the couple began to peruse the menu, Elizabeth swept the restaurant with a searching look.

And, of course, there he was. Mr. Darcy sat alone two tables away from them. He was turned towards them, and was regarding her with an unwavering gaze. The intensity of that gaze – the yearning and the pain conveyed by it – made her feel guilty for her cruelty. But she sternly reminded herself of his own prior ruthlessness, hardened her facial features, and returned to the menu.

'She came with that boy,' was the first thing Fitzwilliam Darcy thought when he saw his beloved enter the restaurant. He knew, of course, that she would come with another man, even expected it to be Greg, but to actually see her with the young man who had incited his jealousy the night before was too much for him. Fitzwilliam drew a deep breath and attempted to calm himself. 'It's only a dinner. She just brought a friend.' At last, he calmed enough to fully appreciate Elizabeth's beauty in the alluring red dress. 'God, she's gorgeous!' The frustrating sensation of desire that accompanied their every meeting once again invaded his body. It was at this point that Elizabeth caught his yearning, pained gaze. In her glance, he thought he saw a fleeting softening, almost a trace of wistfulness or guilt. 'Could she feel bad for what she has done to me? Could she begin to soften towards me?' Fitzwilliam thought hopefully. But Elizabeth's eyes hardened immediately, and she turned away.

For the next hour, Fitzwilliam Darcy's full attention was fixed on the couple seated two tables away. He watched Elizabeth order and receive her food. He was pleased to see that the restaurant's staff had done their very best for her; the service was impeccable, and he was exhilarated to see the pleased expression on her face, as she tasted her meal. He then watched her chat animatedly with Greg. He hungrily took in her every smile, knowing that they were not directed at him. He was growing increasingly annoyed and agitated, and had barely touched his own dinner.

His observation of the young couple was suddenly interrupted by the waitress attending his table. With a seductive smile, and a hint of teasing in her voice, she addressed him:

"Mr. Darcy, you have hardly touched your food. Is it not to your liking?"

"It is entirely agreeable, thank you," he said, barely giving her a glance before turning back to the subjects of his study.

"Then you must have more of it, sir. It would not do to starve yourself. To abuse such a magnificent body should be a sin, sir!" The girl let out a small giggle, and Mr. Darcy realized that she was blatantly flirting with him.

Fitzwilliam then looked up and regarded the girl with lazy curiosity. She was undeniably attractive, even sexy. Long straight blond hair, large green eyes, a full figure, and ample bosom. He knew well her type: it was the type of girl he used to bed casually. Yet now he could not feel attracted to her; now his senses were receptive to one girl only, and that girl was chatting pleasantly with another man, openly scorning and despising him. He sighed and glanced at Elizabeth's table.

What he saw sent a cold shiver through his body. Elizabeth and Greg were holding hands, and leaning close to each other, speaking softly, with tender smiles towards each other. Jealous, enraged, and hopeless, Fitzwilliam turned back to his waitress. With an expressive wink, she picked up his appetizer plate and was about to leave his table. He took in her curvy figure, the sumptuous curve of her behind, and with no intention of doing anything other than boosting his uncharacteristically falling sense of self-esteem, he soundly smacked the girl's buttocks.

The waitress shrieked with excitement, and cooed something to the effect of "Oh Mr. Darcy, how playful you are! But later, sir, we can do that later." Fitzwilliam was hardly paying attention. His mind was reeling, trying to take in what just happened, and cursing his foolish right hand. His eyes were once again directed at Elizabeth's table, and he was mortified to see her laughing. Laughing, of all things! Greg regarded his date with confusion, and once her fit of laughter had passed, he leaned in enquiringly towards her. Fitzwilliam saw her smile at her date, lean in towards him, and respond quietly. He then saw Greg turn in his direction with a smirk, and understood that the couple was speaking about him.

'She was laughing at me!' Fitzwilliam thought with mortification. 'She saw my thoughtless, desperate action, and she just laughed at me. Oh God, what must she think of me? And now that little boy of hers is laughing at me too!' He fervently hated himself. 'How on earth did I manage to do something stupid and thoughtless again? Why am I so moved by jealousy? Why am I so moved by her, or God's sake? I have never lost my self-control so thoroughly before, and here I am – losing it two days in a row!' He shriveled up in his seat, and spent the remainder of dinner without uttering another word, simply watching the woman he loved with a brooding face.

After Fitzwilliam's indecent display, Elizabeth's mood lightened. She was confused by the fact that she had so utterly misunderstood his attentions. Clearly, he was not desperately infatuated by her as she had thought; indeed, he had treated her as he had treated the pretty blond waitress. Was not grabbing her thigh equivalent to the unceremonious slap he had just placed on the waitress's bottom? 'But then why pay for my dinner with another man, and sit by himself, watching and brooding?' She thought, perplexed. The man did not make sense to her, but one thing was clear: he was not as deeply in love with her as she had thought. While that foiled her plan of revenge, it brought her unexpected relief. She was beginning to feel guilty for her cruel intentions, and had almost begun to reconsider them. Now, her guilt was suddenly removed. She was not hurting Fitzwilliam Darcy; she was not hurting anyone; now she could guiltlessly enjoy her dinner with Greg, whose company she found most pleasant.

They were almost done with their meal, amicably sharing the two deserts they had ordered, when Lizzy became aware of the fact that several waitresses had congregated a few feet away from their table, in a gossiping session. They spoke quietly, but were near enough for Liz to inadvertently overhear the entire conversation.

"God, he's gorgeous! Why would he ever dine alone?" She heard a short redhead whisper.

"Well, he's mighty brooding tonight," a tall brunette answered in a hushed voice. "But still magnificent."

"The blond young man at the nearest table is pretty cute too," a young black-haired girl pointed out, undoubtedly referring to Greg.

"Cute, perhaps, but nothing to Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth noted that this smug voice belonged to the blond whose behind had been graced with the illustrious man's smack.

"Of course, but then no one is anything to Mr. Darcy," the brunette whispered dreamily. "What I would give to feel his arms and lips upon me… I wonder what it's like to make love to him."

"Well, Larissa may well soon find out," the redhead replied with a wink, elbowing the blond, whose name must have been Larissa. The name sounded familiar, and, observing her face more closely, Elizabeth vaguely recollected that the girl went to her school, and that the two had not gotten along.

Larissa attempted a demure smile, which nonetheless came out quite smug. "It was only a playful spank, Cindy." She then added as calmly as she could, "But I think there might be more tonight."

"Oh God, Larissa!" The black-haired girl exclaimed. "Are you serious? If you bed Fitzwilliam Darcy, you will be one lucky bitch."

"You'll have to tell us all the saucy details," the redhead Cindy demanded. "I wonder what positions he likes. Mmm, and how big he is."

"Oh, he must be quite big," the brunette asserted. "Just look at him: such a sexy, imposing man!"

At this point, Lizzy, tired of the girls' explicit comments, interjected disgustedly: "Ladies, if it is not too much trouble, would you mind taking your dirty gossip elsewhere?"

The girls were affronted by the disdainful quirk of Elizabeth's lips, but said nothing. Only Larissa, whose self-assurance had been inflated by Mr. Darcy's small attention, smirked at Lizzy, and replied sardonically: "I am terribly sorry, ma'am. But I find your tone quite unacceptable."

Elizabeth was stunned by the disrespectful response of the waitress, and asked calmly: "And on what grounds do you find yourself justified to object to my tone in such a disrespectful manner?"

The girl smirked. "On enough grounds, believe me. For one thing, I do not see why a favorite of Mr. Darcy's should suffer derision from a petty little thing like yourself, Lizzy. This time, I won the hottest man." Hearing the distaste with which Larissa pronounced her name, Lizzy realized that the girl was holding a grudge against her. Thinking hard for a moment, she recalled that Larissa had developed a crush on Matthew Dean in eleventh grade, but her every attempt at securing his affection was thwarted, since Matthew was quite keen on Elizabeth. He was a good-looking, intelligent boy, and Elizabeth agreed to date him in senior year. Apparently, Larissa had never forgiven her.

Fitzwilliam Darcy had heard the exchange between the two girls, and was suddenly sitting upright, alert and ready to act. He could not bear to see the impertinence with which that little waitress was addressing his Elizabeth, and was about to walk over and put the stupid girl back in her place, when he heard Elizabeth's calm, controlled voice.

"That is quite enough, Larissa. I would like to speak to your manager." Her request was immediately granted, and with the manager's arrival, she spoke softly but firmly. "Mr. Johnson, I have asked your wait staff to relocate their sexually explicit gossiping session away from my table, and was met with some rather unprofessional remarks from" she paused for a moment, recalling Larissa's last name from her high school yearbook "from Miss Walker here. I am afraid the young lady holds a grudge against me from school, and while I respect her feelings, I was under the impression that one's work environment was not the place to voice such concerns." She finished as calmly as she began, and eyed Mr. Johnson with a stern gaze, and an insincere smile on her lips.

From his place, Fitzwilliam Darcy was amazed at the graceful yet dignified comportment of his fancy. His admiration grew as he fell back into his seat, realizing that Elizabeth required neither his support nor his protection.

Mr. Johnson's countenance darkened, and he addressed his staff: "The accusation of sexually explicit gossip during working hours within earshot of respected customers is a heavy one indeed, and will be dealt with accordingly. In the meantime, Miss Walker, I would like you to vacate the restaurant's premises. Your services will no longer be required here." With that, he directed the rest of his staff to return to work, and with an apology to Elizabeth, waited on her table himself. He remembered well Mr. Darcy's demand that the lady be treated with utmost respect throughout the evening, and was mortified at the discourtesy his wait staff had shown.

Distressed and frustrated, Larissa collected her purse and coat and headed for the door. On her way out, she passed Fitzwilliam Darcy's table, and slipped a piece of paper into his hand. She then halted next to him, and gave him a wide seductive smile.

Fitzwilliam glanced at the paper, and noticed the girl's phone number written carefully on it. He looked up, and said coolly: "That will be unnecessary, Miss Walker." He noticed confusion on the girl's face, and added: "Please accept my apology for my behavior earlier. I had no desire to have any physical intimacy with you, and I am sorry for having touched you. Please believe me that it was done in an irrational fit of jealousy at watching the woman I love smile at another man. It was not directed at you; you simply happened to be there." He knew that he was hurting the girl with his words, crushing her self-esteem and her dignity. But after the way she had behaved towards Elizabeth, he felt justified to be cruel towards her. He had also been disgusted with his own behavior when he slapped her behind, and was now taking his frustration with himself out on the poor girl. "So think no more of the ill-fated smack, Miss Walker, and please do not delude yourself: I wish to have nothing further to do with you. Good bye." And with that, he dismissed her.

Noticing that Elizabeth and Greg had by now finished their desert and departed from the restaurant, he stood up with a heavy sigh, gave Mr. Johnson a pained smile, and left. Inside his car, Mr. Darcy attempted to clear his mind. He had now acted despicably yet again, and it was impossible to believe that Elizabeth would ever forgive him. Yet he would not give up on her – he could not. His thoughts were unwaveringly occupied by her, and she had become his only desire.

Fitzwilliam Darcy had never given up before, and he was not about to start now. No, he would continue to woo her, but clearly he must change his tactics, or he would only continue making matters worse. Reflecting on his actions thus far, he realized that his mistakes stemmed from his possessive attitude towards her: he could not take her rejection of him or her flirtatious smiles towards other men. Every time things went wrong, he exploded and did something impulsive and stupid. No, if he wished to court Elizabeth Bennet, he would have to do so with patience, calmness, and humbleness. And with that, Fitzwilliam Darcy was determined to acquire all three of those virtues, and through them the woman he had somehow come to so ardently love and admire.