In Pursuit of Happiness

Disclaimer: I don't own Pride and Prejudice. All recognisable characters, content, or locations belong to their respective owners. No copyright infringement intended.

Summary: Elizabeth Bennet has all of the societally appropriate attributes of a gentleman's prospective wife - connections, fortune, a (mostly) respectable family - but amidst social climbers, fortune hunters, and familial expectations, happiness for Elizabeth and the estimable Mr Darcy may not be so easily obtained. OOC AU.

Rating: K+ (for now).

Author: tlyxor1.

Part One: Grafton House

Chapter One: The Almack's Assembly

Almack's, Elizabeth Bennet decides, leaves a great deal to be desired. The assembly hall is known for an abundance of class and elegance, where the most fashionable of London's society gather to dance, to see, to be seen, to revel in the company of others of equal taste, sophistication, wealth and pedigree. As far as Elizabeth is concerned, however, the assembly hall has rather fallen short of its reputation, and subsequently, her own expectations. The rooms are cramped, the carpet and curtains faded and worn, the refreshments sorely lacking, and the company…

Well, between the unmarried gentlemen, the unmarried gentlewomen, and their assorted matchmaking mamas, the company is the most disappointing of all.

Thus disgruntled by thoughts of the effort she and Jane had expended to obtain season tickets, Elizabeth frowns behind her fan, and is subsequently reprimanded for the trouble.

"Smile, Elizabeth," Grandmother Grafton reminds her, and agitatedly flutters her fan, "You look as though you've just smelled something unpleasant."

"That is hardly out of the realm of possibility, Grandmother," Elizabeth answers. She doesn't understand how the older woman can possibly decipher Elizabeth's expressions behind the fan Elizabeth herself wields, but Grandmother Grafton enjoys her secrets, and Elizabeth has resigned herself to the fact that such mysteries of the universe will remain unknown, "It's awfully crowded in here, isn't it?"

At least it's warm. The weather outside is bitingly cold - the last dregs of winter determined to put up a fight in the face of London's encroaching Spring - but inside, the abundance of candles, the people, and the lack of proper airflow ensures that it is almost too warm, and Elizabeth suppresses an unhappy sigh.

It's not that she is determined to dislike everything about Almack's, or the Ton in general, but it is so very easy to find fault with both. She wants to go home, to leave behind the pressure to succeed, to escape the expectations and scrutiny and constant criticisms from strangers regarding her face, her figure, her many and varied flaws. She is 18 years old, relatively new to society, young and homesick, and it has been a very long night.

"Quite so. Such is the nature of assemblies at Almack's, Dearest. Here is Lord Mandeville. I expect your best behaviour now. Try not to frighten the man."

"I am hardly a monster, Grandmother," Elizabeth replies. It takes an exceeding amount of effort not to roll her eyes, not to pull a face behind her fan, to instead close the accessory in question, to smile graciously at her partner for the last set of the evening.

Elizabeth is pleased to see him, truly. Benjamin Montague, Viscount Mandeville, is a friend of Elizabeth's eldest brother Alistair, good-natured and charming in his way. He is also married, and it is a relief to feel free - if only temporarily - from the ubiquitous, unending pressure of London's marriage mart.

The reprieve won't last, of course, but Elizabeth welcomes it all the same.

Lord Mandeville steps into hearing range before Grandmother Grafton can reply with something appropriately reprimanding, and so the Duchess of Grafton grits her teeth, fixes a smile on her own face, and greets the man with all the civility in the world. Beside her, Elizabeth curtsies, Lord Mandeville bows in turn, and amidst idle pleasantries and an excess of people, he leads her onto the dance floor as the music begins to play.

"How are you enjoying London, Lady Elizabeth? Has it been all that you expected?"

"All that I expected and more," Elizabeth replies, and wryly reflects to herself that it is even true. "I've particularly enjoyed the theatre."

"How are the shows this year? I've only recently arrived in town, so I've not yet had opportunity to attend any."

"I am certainly no expert, but I found 'Much Ado About Nothing' rather enjoyable."

"I shall have to attend the show, then," Lord Mandeville acknowledges, "I do enjoy Shakespeare."

"I'm not surprised."

"Why is that?"

Elizabeth smiles, feeling impish despite herself. "I've yet to encounter anyone who doesn't enjoy Shakespeare."

"What is there to dislike?"

"Personally, I disliked 'Othello' a great deal."

Lord Mandeville's tone is droll, "Then you must be an oddity, indeed."

"That may be so," Elizabeth concedes, "But mayhap I am simply honest."

"Are they not one and the same?"

Elizabeth grins, tickled. "Touche, Sir."

Her dance with Lord Mandeville continues, as does their conversation. It's pleasant - more so than any other dance Elizabeth has enjoyed that night, certainly - and she almost regrets that Lord Mandeville is already married. Elizabeth is hardly besotted with him, though he is handsome enough, but she enjoys their banter, and she would not be opposed to improving their acquaintance. In due course, however, their set comes to a close, and Lord Mandeville returns Elizabeth to her grandmother's side.

Her sister, Jane, is already there, serene and lovely as she ever is, and she and Lord Mandeville - acquainted during one of Jane's earlier seasons - require no introductions. He doesn't linger, in any case, and so they part ways with a bow and curtsies, respectively, and Grandmother Grafton turns her attention to making their farewells to the appropriate parties.

"Have you enjoyed tonight, Lizzy?" Jane asks. Grandmother Grafton is in conversation with one of the Almack's Matrons - Lady Jersey, if Elizabeth remembers correctly - and neither woman pay the sisters any heed, "Your dance card was full, was it not? Did you dance with anyone of interest to you?"

"No," Elizabeth replies. Her dance partners were all either married, elderly, or exceedingly unpleasant, and overall, the night was rather tedious. "Did you? I saw you'd danced with Lord Beverley twice. He is quite taken with you."

Jane blushes, and admits, "I enjoy his company."

The residents of Grafton House have attended many of the same events as Lord Beverley this season, and he has sought Elizabeth's sister out at every one. He seems an intelligent, sensible man, his marked attention towards Jane has not gone unnoticed, and even Alistair - generally critical of his sisters' prospective suitors - has only good things to say about him.

"Will he call on you, do you think? Or perhaps he plans to court you across the dance floors of London?"

"He'll call," Jane answers, and her blush lingers, "He asked me tonight if I would welcome his suit."

"And are you pleased?"

"I am," Jane confirms, and her smile is content, "I look forward to a visit from him."

"I'm glad for you, Jane. You deserve every happiness."

"As do you, Lizzy."

Elizabeth smiles half-heartedly, and doesn't mention that she'd be happiest if she could simply return home to Hertfordshire, and to the friends and family whom await her there. Longbourn is where she belongs - where she longs to be - and the date of she and Jane's departure seems so very far away.

It seems, Elizabeth reflects ruefully, that despite all of the education she's received, the skills she's learned, the connections and heritage and personal fortune she can boast, and the best efforts of her Grandmother and Grandfather Grafton to imbue Elizabeth with an appreciation for the Ton and all it has to offer, Elizabeth Bennet is nought but a simple country girl at heart.

Amidst the 'quality' of London, can she truly be able to find a gentleman who shares her values, whom she can esteem, perhaps even admire?

Elizabeth, who already dreads the prospect of yet another season in town, doesn't believe that she could be so fortunate. She hopes, though.

-!- -#-

Author's Note: Nervous. Analysis paralysis. New fandom. Here's hoping I do all right. Until next time, -t.