In fact, almost as soon as she stepped onto the grounds at Netherfield, everything went awry. Of course, she didn't realize it at the time.

Elizabeth herself was captivated by a bluebird that circled overhead. She grinned up at it, pushing her cinnamon locks behind her ears, only to have them bounce back again. She laughed gaily, and mussed her hair, giving up on it entirely. She then walked with a bounce in her step, picking flowers and herbs from the wilderness around her, arranging them carelessly in her messy chestnut hair.

The day wasn't clear persay, but the clouds diffused into the blueness around the edges, light filtering through their fluffy, effervescent canopy. The air was warm and cool at the same time, and Elizabeth raised her arms over her head, stretching to enjoy the delightful breeze.

Someone else was enjoying their morning as well, though for a very different reason.

Mr. Darcy had not been his best self lately, and he knew it. He had been pugnacious and miserable, hating himself for not being happy. He had woken up that morning to find, to his horror, that he had NOT in fact erased all the ill-fated messages from his arm. He did so at once, disgusted with himself. Thankfully, he had done so fairly early in the morning, so there was a good chance Elizabeth hadn't seen them.

He had decided to take a walk to clear his head. The day was gray and a strange temperature that was strange somewhere between perfectly hot and perfectly cold. Darcy hadn't known what to wear. He thought about asking Elizabeth, but he didn't want to bother her with trivial matters. Besides, the last time he had sought her advice in regards to fashion (years ago, when he was still naive to her teasing abilities), Elizabeth had called him a Prissy Peacock. It had made him laugh for the first few days, but it got embarrassing after the second week.

So he had simply thrown on a waistcoat and jacket had headed outside without even brushing his hair. He had just needed to get away from it all. The confining walls, the strict social standings.. He just wanted to be free.

So when he saw the young woman from last night dancing through the field, he didn't turn his nose up in disgust as he watched her run her hands through her hair and smile up at the heavens. Indeed, he almost… he felt a pang in his chest. An uncomfortable warmth that pressed in on his sternum whenever her green eyes caught the light. He wished he was brave enough to say something to her.

He forgot all about her staring the other night, her lowly connections and lack of monetary value. He wanted her right then. So badly. But, he couldn't move. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. All he could do was watch this goddess on Earth skip through the fields, laughing at the sky with her eyes closed and making his cold heart twitch with an unnamed feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Mr. Darcy was so wrapped up in his thoughts that his dark eyes had glazed over, and he forgot where he was and what he was doing. He even forgot that this wasn't a dream, for a moment.

Reality came crashing back when the young woman, no longer a goddess but a human once more, ran right smack into him.

Elizabeth's reverie was abruptly shattered when she bumped into something solid and warm, that smelled like wool and soap and honeysuckle. She snapped her eyes open, and looked up into Mr. Darcy's stunned face, only inches away from her own.

She leaped backward as if she had been burnt —and indeed her face was as flushed as any victim of a fire— and mumbled an apology. Her mouth felt numb, like the words weren't forming correctly.

"Pardon me madam, I was not watching where I was going."

The man's cheeks were tinged an adorable shade of pink, and he looked about as flustered as she felt. Elizabeth chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

"I assure you sir, the blame falls entirely to me. If my gaze was obstructed by my own absentmindedness, you would have to lose focus in some way! 'An eye for an eye,' after all."

His lips twitched, and it looked almost like he was about to smile. "I do not believe this circumstance is quite what the saying had in mind, Miss…," he trailed off awkwardly. "Forgive me, I do not believe we've been formally introduced."

Elizabeth bit her lip to stop the biting response that was on the tip of her tongue. "Of course," she said with some difficulty, "My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

She watched him closely, and looked on with satisfaction as he started slightly, before schooling his features once more.

"A pleasure, Miss Bennet," he said shortly, "I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. In Derbyshire."

Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise did not react in any abnormal way. She thought he looked a little disappointed, but it may have been wishful thinking.

"Derbyshire. My aunt grew up there, I believe. Lovely country."

"Indeed."

He stood there for a second, staring at her with those catacomb eyes. She resisted the urge to look away, and instead met his scrutinizing gaze with the hint of a smile in her face, forgetting that she was supposed to be indifferent. Eventually, he cleared his throat and broke eye contact.

"Are you, uh, here to see your sister, Miss Bennet?"

"Yes. Will you take me to her?"

"Of course."

He offered Elizabeth his arm, and she took it, with only a little trepidation. She ignored the jolt of electricity that ran through her fingers as they came into contact with the fabric of his coat. It was rough, and she thought she could feel the muscles underneath working as they walked. She tried not to think about how close he was. How the warm, clean smell of him enveloped her like a hug, closing in around her doubts.

She leaned imperceptibly closer to him. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all.

Little did she know how affected the poor man was by her presence, how he was fighting to stay coherent and alert as his mind and heart waged war, neither realizing they were two sides of the same coin.

The two walked on, one hesitantly hopeful for affection, and the other losing his resolve to not show any. How well they suited one another. Fate could be a charming companion, in the world of love. Quite charming indeed.