Just under a decade later, Elizabeth Bennet —no longer an impertinent little girl, but rather a lovely and impertinent woman— woke up with a headache. She groaned, and rolled over in bed.

She heard Jane's sweet voice from the other side of the room.

"Lizzy! Lizzy, are you ill?"

"No, I am well," Lizzy groaned, "it just seems this morning is not agreeing with me."

Jane laughed, a light, tinkling sound, and shook her younger sister's shoulder. "Oh dear. Will you be requiring the apothecary? Or will you simply need peace and quiet?"

Lizzy chuckled. "I do not believe either of those will be likely or required of me, no matter how much I might yearn for the latter."

"GIRLS! GIRLS, COME DOWN!" their mother's voice shouted up from the stairs, "I HAVE SOME MOST DIVERTING NEWS!"

Lizzy resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she sat up in bed. "Do you think she means for me to come down in my nightgown?"

"No, I am sure she would be disappointed if that were the case."

"Dear Jane, she would be disappointed even if I came down in the queen's finery, as long as my fingers are still black."

Jane smiled, if a bit sadly, and helped her sister change quickly. Elizabeth took a moment to check her arm for a message from Fitzwilliam. He had been rather distant lately; indeed, she hadn't experienced a silent stretch from him like this since last summer.

He hadn't told her all the particulars (as it was rude to ask for specific names and places from Soulmates), but had related to her that his younger sister had almost been taken advantage of by a scoundrel by the sea. Elizabeth had consoled him as best she could, but he remained rather cold and aloof. He still confided in her, but it was in a more somber, serious tone than their youthful banter. Almost like he talked to her out of duty, rather than pleasure.

This message was no different.

'I have just arrived in the country with my friend. It is passably pretty, but nothing to my home. I wonder if you would like it. Will be busy today; no time for conversation 'til evening. Good day.'

Elizabeth sighed at the briefness. She was hard-pressed to admit it, but she missed talking with Fitzwilliam. But, she understood he had been very busy as of late, and had not the time for drabbles over Latin anymore. Fitzwilliam's friend had bought a country estate, and Fitzwilliam was asked to travel along, to aid in the new business. Elizabeth kept the tidbit that her Soulmate was a land-owner to herself. Mama had already gone into fits when she got wind that Fitzwilliam had attended cambridge.

This idle train of thought was proven when Elizabeth finally came downstairs to find her mother in hysterics over a new gentleman neighbor. Oh, pardon me, I did not recite the full title. A new, RICH, gentleman neighbor.

"Oh, my girls!" Mrs. Bennet shrieked, "He will be perfect for my girls!"

"He and all his 5,000 pounds a year," Mr. Bennet muttered dryly, winking at Lizzy, who had to smother her laughter behind tightly shut lips.

"Oh, oh, Mr. Bennet, you MUST call on him! Immediately!"

"Why should I call on him? He is nothing to ME."

"But he must be made to marry one of our girls! If he is half as amiable as the rumors say, he would be PERFECT for our Lydia!"

"Wha'?" Lydia said, a roll blocking her voice and spilling out through her cheeks.

"Lyddie, dear, take smaller bites," Jane reprimanded quietly.

Lydia swallowed with great self-importance. "I do not know, Mama. What if he is ugly? I could never marry an ugly man, no matter HOW rich."

"Lydia!" both Jane and her mother exclaimed, though for very different reasons.

"Lydia, you will marry him if he asks, and encourage him if he doesn't!" Mrs. Bennet shrieked.

"Oh lord," the young girl grumbled, rolling her eyes.

Elizabeth would have scolded her if she didn't agree so much. With two daughters unable to marry, Mrs. Bennet took up matchmaking as a lifestyle rather than a hobby. To be frank, it was exhausting.

"When will we meet him, mother?" Asked, Mary, the middle child.

"Oh it will not matter when YOU meet him Mary, I'm sorry dear, but you're too plain to attract someone as wealthy as Mr. Bingley."

Mary nodded (the anything-but-subtle insult going unnoticed due to its unfortunate commonality). "But when will we meet him?"

Mrs. Bennet grinned, looking more like a wolf than a woman. "There will be a ball at Meryton at the end of the week. I'm sure he will dance with all our handsome girls!"

The girls she directed this last statement to, Kitty and Lydia, were absorbed in their own raptures at the mention of a ball.

"Eeeee!" Kitty squealed, bouncing up and down on the couch.

"A ball! A ball! We're going to have a ball!" Lydia gasped, her grin lighting up her face. "There will be dancing!"

"And punch!" Kitty added.

"And gentlemen!"

"Lots and lots of gentlemen!"

Both of the younger girls were quickly immersed in their own conversation, if you could call it that. They giggled and spoke in sharp, overlapping whispers. Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth rolled their eyes in perfect schrinezation.

Elizabeth, for her part, was looking forward to the ball. She enjoyed dancing, and even if it didn't have the martial prospects of her younger sisters. And she was happy to welcome new faces to the neighborhood; maybe there would be some intelligent conversations to be had, who knows!

'A ball could be a wonderful thing,' Elizabeth thought with a faint twinkle in her expressive green eyes, 'when one is not going in with expectations.'

However logical she might fancy herself however, there was always the slight, foolish part of her that whispered that maybe, just maybe, someone would show up in Hertfordshire who was special. Special to her. Someone with wit and tact, someone with a beautiful brain and inky black fingertips. Someone who would smile, and smile just for her.

Elizabeth shook her head. It was unlikely that she would ever meet Fitzwilliam in her lifetime. And even if she did, it would not be out in the country, at some ball with hardly 60 people in attendance.

She smiled, despite herself.

It couldn't hurt to hope, Elizabeth supposed. She just couldn't set her heart on something that would probably never happen. Never in a million years.