Author's Note:

Hi, guys! Thank you so much to those of you who always review! Even if you only write: "cute" or "I like it" or whatever, it still means that you're still reading and that you still like what I write, so thank you!

So, here's the ball! I hope you enjoy having our aloof and distant Darcy acting as Mr. Knightley, saving damsels in distress who are in need of a partner. Also, I read in many fics that during regency times, married couples were only allowed to dance twice together. I have looked it up and found nothing, but it makes sense. I think married couples would not even dance as much since dancing was a form of courtship.

Anyway, I hope you like this chapter and I'm sorry for the "cliffhanger" (though I'm not sure if it could be called that, but… well, you'll find out what happened next chapter).

Stay safe!

Jen

Fitzwilliam groaned as if this comment only added to the torture and she could not help kissing his throat before stepping away so as not to scandalise their poor parents. Fortunately, Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne were already walking to the carriage.

"You shall pay for that, Mrs. Darcy," he whispered back and helped her into her cloak as she laughed in delight.

16.

The Darcys entered the ballroom and paid their respects to their host and hostess. No sooner had they done so that they were intercepted by many who were seeking an introduction to the new Mrs. Darcy. Elizabeth could not believe the pride Fitzwilliam exuded; a more positive sort of pride that the one he had shown in Hertfordshire. It was in the way he seemed to puff his chest out and stand taller as he said: "This is my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy," "Have you met my wife, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy?" "Come meet Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy, my wife." She found it the most endearing thing in the world and could not help but smile and blush each time. She took delight in the way he always said "wife" and the fact that he pronounced her whole name as if he still needed to say out loud that it was Elizabeth who was now Mrs. Darcy.

Lady Anne and Mr. Darcy were by now used to the idiosyncrasies of the ton and so they walked through the ballroom behind their son and daughter as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They wanted to assess Elizabeth's reception and to make sure she was not uncomfortable.

However, Elizabeth's reception was varied: some people spoke kindly and amiably, some were distrustful and wary, and some were extremely ill-mannered and insolent. This last group asked impertinent questions ranging from how much had her dowry been and what connections had she brought to the marriage. Fitzwilliam and even his parents were always next to her to intervene, but Elizabeth tried to defend herself and was not very bothered by the insults of those who were so proud and conceited. She did the same she had done to Miss Bingley at Netherfield: she smiled, teased, and fended off each offensive remark or question with grace and wit. This only made her husband more proud of her and he stepped back—metaphorically, he still did not leave her side—to allow her to stand up to them herself. He should have known his independent Elizabeth would be undisturbed and would wish to fight her own battles. This was the woman he had fallen so madly in love with. He decided to stand next to her to offer his support implicitly. He would only intervene if she was insulted directly or if she showed any sign of discomfort.

"Mr. Darcy!" said a man as he approached them. "Lady Anne, Darcy," he bowed to the family, who returned the greeting before he turned Fitzwilliam. "I have not been able to take my eyes from this exquisite creature," he smiled seductively to Elizabeth. "Tell me she is your sister and not your wife."

"She is my wife, Lord Brooke," Fitzwilliam replied. This time, his tone was not proud and blissful, but unmistakably unfriendly. "Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy," he added, with a clear emphasis on the honorific and her last name. With a gentler tone, he addressed his wife: "Elizabeth, this is the Earl of Brooke."

"Pleased to meet you," Elizabeth said with a polite curtsy.

The Earl was tall and handsome, probably in his early thirties, she believed, but she could feel her husband's hostility pouring out of him.

"I assure you, the pleasure is mine," he bowed. "You have just broken my heart, Darcy. Where did you find such a beauty?"

"I am from Hertfordshire, Lord Brooke," Elizabeth replied when she felt her husband was in no estate to do so.

"A wonderful county, I dare say! Well, you are one lucky fellow, Darcy, to be caught by such an English rose," he nudged at Fitzwilliam before turning to Elizabeth. "Tell me, Mrs. Darcy, does the belle of the ball, by some sort of miracle, have a free dance in her card?"

Elizabeth looked at Fitzwilliam but knew very well she could not reject a dance—especially with an Earl. Fitzwilliam had reserved her first and her supper dance, but married couples could only dance twice together—a tradition they both found ridiculous. However, he had promised his wife he would try to be social and dance with young ladies who had no partners.

"I do not know about the belle of the ball, my lord, but I do have a free dance," Elizabeth finally replied.

Lord Brooke smiled. "Then I shall take it, no matter which one it is."

"The fifth one, my lord."

"I shall look for you, then," he bowed and left.

"Insufferable man," Lady Anne scoffed.

"Breathe, Fitzwilliam," Elizabeth said and reached out to take his hand. "I thought him bold and rude. Is he so very bad?"

"I never liked him," Fitzwilliam replied, tracing small circles on her hand as he calmed down.

"I am sure I can stand a half-hour of empty compliments."

"Fitzwilliam is right, Lizzy," Mr. Darcy said. "I do not like the way he looks at you. We shall keep an eye on you when you dance with him."

Elizabeth nodded and it was not long until the first song started. Fitzwilliam finally smiled and offered his hand to his wife.

"Will you do me the honour, Mrs. Darcy?"

"The honour is mine, Mr. Darcy," she smiled back.

Fitzwilliam led his beaming wife to the dance floor. They danced in complete silence, their eyes fixed in each other every time they could. He felt sheer joy and pride each time their hands touched, each time she smiled up to him, each time her eyes shone with love and merriment. He had in his arm the most intelligent, charming, teasing, and lovely woman in the room. At that moment, he was glad he had come to London to show off his wife; to boast and brag, for he could still not believe such a wonderful woman had accepted him, that she loved him as he loved her. It had felt such pleasure each time he got to say "my wife" and "Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy" that he was resolved to say it as many times as possible, and her blush and obvious satisfaction had only encouraged him. He did not care much that it clearly amused his parents. He was absolutely sure—though he had no evidence—that his father had behaved the exact same way when he was recently married. Maybe that is what they found so amusing.

Fitzwilliam, true to his word, danced with his wife twice, once with his mother, and a few times with women who had been sitting down the dance. It gave him pleasure when he saw the way Elizabeth smiled in approval to him. He found the ball mostly pleasant. He was no longer an eligible bachelor, so his dancing with a young lady did not have the same significance it had less than a year ago. Mothers did not throw her daughters at him and young ladies did not flatter their eyelashes in the hopes of receiving a proposal. He could see that Elizabeth was also enjoying herself, for when he was not next to her, he kept her in his line of vision in case she needed help with some of the most uncivil members of the ton. He saw her smile and dance, chuckle and twirl among the dancers, and marvelled at the fact that he trusted her and her love for him so much, that he did not even feel jealousy when she danced with other men. He trusted her and her heart completely. He was convinced one could not doubt or feel uncertain when Elizabeth Bennet—now Darcy, of course—loved you. Her love was in every smile, every touch, every look, every kiss. And so he observed her from afar as she danced merrily.

Both Fitzwilliam and his father observed her during her dance with Lord Brooke. She seemed unamused and uncomfortable at times and they suspected his lordship was offering more compliments than she felt were due. However, she did not seem too offended and so they did not interrupt their dance. When it was time for the supper dance, Fitzwilliam asked her about Lord Brooke and she confirmed his suspicion that he had flirted more than she felt comfortable with, however, she assured him it was nothing to worry about. He sat with her for supper and then they were back to dancing. He spotted Miss Cole sitting down a dance and looking at the couples with a bit of envy and so he did his duty and asked for a dance. He did his best, as he had been doing for some months now, to speak to his partner and be amiable, but halfway through it, he turned his head to look for Elizabeth and he noticed she was not dancing. He looked around to see if she was sitting down, but she was not. He looked for his mother, but she was in conversation with Mrs. Graham. He looked for his father and found him speaking to Mr. Peters. He looked at the punch table, but she was not there either. He felt a tightness in his chest, a weight on his stomach.

Something is wrong, his mind kept telling him.

But no, he was being ridiculous. He need not panic each time she moved out of his line of vision. He did not wish to be controlling and overbearing. If she needed some space, he would give her space. However, his heart did not agree. It was not that he missed her, per se—as much as his cousins teased him, he could stand to be away from his wife, even if he did not like it. No, it was not that. It was anxiety. It was the feeling that something was wrong, that she needed him. Instinct, perhaps. Maybe he should excuse himself from Miss Cole and look for her. No, that would be most ungentlemanly to Miss Cole and overbearing to Elizabeth. He did his best to swallow his trepidation and finish the dance before he went looking for his wife. Finally, when the set was almost over—probably less than ten minutes after he realised he could not find Elizabeth—he saw her entering the ballroom and looking for him. When her eyes met his, he saw her sigh in relief, which only increased his own uneasiness.

He bowed to his partner, begged to be excused, and walked to his wife.

"Fitzwilliam," she sighed, sounding even more relieved than she looked.

"My love, what is wrong?" he asked, taking her hands.

"Oh, nothing," she replied. "But I am exhausted. Can we go home, please?"

"Of course," he said. It was still early, but not so early that their departure would be considered impolite. He put his hand on her lower back and guided her to his parents. "We wish to go home. If you would like to stay, we can send the carriage back for you."

"No," his mother replied. "If you leave, there is no reason for us to stay. We are here for Lizzy's introduction. Must you leave so early?"

"Yes," Fitzwilliam replied, kindly, but firmly. "She wishes to go home."

"Very well," she sighed. "Let us say goodbye to our host and hostess."

Once in the carriage, Mr. Darcy and Lady Anne wondered at the sudden need for departure. They sat side by side with the younger couple in front of them. They knew Elizabeth was a social and extroverted person, and they thought it strange that she, rather than Fitzwilliam, would wish to leave so early. Although they had no clue as to the cause, they did notice the way both her hands clung to their son's hand.

I do not own any Pride and Prejudice properties, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.

Characters and situations, created by Jane Austen, are taken from Pride and Prejudice and from the Pride and Prejudice (1995) adaptation created by Simon Langton and distributed by BBC.

This story is released under the GPL/CC BY: verbatim copying and distribution of this entire work are permitted worldwide, without royalty, in any medium, provided attribution is preserved.