One afternoon, a week or so after the dinner party, Elizabeth and Miss Darcy sat together in the Longbourn drawing room, doing some needlework and talking amiably.

"I suppose," said Georgiana, "you and your family will be attending the evening party tonight at Lucas Lodge."

"Yes," answered Elizabeth. "Do your set intend to go also?"

"They do, and so I will be obliged to spend the evening at home alone again."

Elizabeth glanced up from her work at her friend. "I did not think you were so anxious to be out in society."

"I'm not—not really," Georgiana sighed and faintly frowned down at a half-embroidered leaf. "But it does get rather tiresome to have only second-hand intelligence of all that goes on."

"That does sound tiresome. I am sorry I cannot keep you company, but I gave Charlotte my assurance that I would be present tonight."

"Oh, please do not trouble yourself on that point; I will be quite alright on my own. Besides, I quite rely on you to tell me all that happens tonight. Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst are always happy to recount their evenings out to me, but they are rather— well, your manner of relating events and conversations is much more diverting."

With a laughing smile, Elizabeth lifted her needle to resume her work. "Then I will be as attentive an observer as I can possibly be so that you may be sufficiently entertained when I deliver my report. Perhaps I could even generate some mischief myself to ensure the evening does not pass without incident."

The friends giggled, and though they did spend some minutes inventing impish schemes that would not fail to produce an amusing description after the event, they eventually decided that, wiping mirthful tears from their eyes, such behaviour would never do from respectable young ladies. Georgiana took her leave in good time for Elizabeth to dress for the evening, and by and by the Bennets departed for Lucas Lodge.

Not long after they arrived, so too did the Netherfield party. Bingley handsomely paid his respects to the master and mistress of the house, and then moved directly to greet Jane and partake in her conversation. She received him with serene pleasure, and though other persons approached and engaged Bingley in conversation, and though he greeted and spoke to all with frank cordiality, he did not stir from Jane's side. It was impossible for Elizabeth to watch this with any other feeling but joy for her sister, and so she could hardly keep herself from glancing at them as often as she could without giving offence to her aunt, with whom she was conversing. But her aunt Philips was not likely to be offended, even if she had noticed how frequently her niece briefly looked over at Bingley and Jane, for she was glancing at the couple with like regularity herself. In time, Mrs. Philips excused herself to seek out her sister so that the two could animatedly discuss the prospect of a Christmas wedding for the young couple; Elizabeth smiled to herself at the rapidity of her aunt and mother's expectations, but calmly released her.

Standing alone for the first time that evening, Elizabeth looked leisurely about her. The room, glowing with the golden warmth of many candles and a comfortable, crackling fire, and filled with the pleasant tones of indistinct chatter and mirth, was made cosier by the remembrance of the cold, crisp autumn evening that pressed against the windows from without. Elizabeth sighed contentedly, but then her scanning eye fell upon a solitary figure standing erect in a corner of the room. She had not spoken to Darcy since they had sat together at the Longbourn dinner party, though that was not due to any disinclination on her part. When the gentlemen joined the ladies after dinner, she secretly hoped he would come to her, and for a moment she thought he would, but for whatever reason he did not. She was sure she had felt his gaze upon her as she poured the coffee, but when she looked up to meet it he was looking at some indeterminate point on the wall as Miss Bingley spoke to him. Elizabeth would not admit to herself that she was disappointed, but when he brought his cup back to her himself, she could hardly deny the elevation of her spirits. Before she could say anything to him, however, Sir William returned his own cup and, after giving some exclamation about what a pleasure it was to speak to him at last, entreated Darcy to come give his opinion on some matter. Elizabeth had given a soft huff of impatience at Sir William as she watched the two gentlemen walk away, and then gave another at herself for being so silly! Not long after, the tea-things were cleared and the card tables placed. Anxious to atone for her neglect earlier that evening, Elizabeth offered her services to Colonel Forster as a partner in a game of whist, if he was inclined to play. He answered that he was, and so Elizabeth spent the remainder of the evening confined to the card table. Perhaps if Mrs. Bennet's hopes of inviting Bingley and his friends to remain for supper had been realised, Elizabeth would have been able to speak to Darcy again, but as it was theirs was the first carriage prepared and so they were the first to take their leave. Though Elizabeth had called on Georgiana at Netherfield Park a few times since, Darcy had always been out hunting with the other gentlemen or attending to some business within, and so she never saw him, which would have been a great disappointment if she had not called solely to see her friend; Mrs. Bennet's disappointment at her daughter never meeting with him on those occasions was another matter.

As Elizabeth observed Darcy in the drawing room of Lucas Lodge, she could not help noting how dour he appeared. There had been mutterings in the neighbourhood, she well knew, regarding the apparent pride and general disagreeableness of Mr. Darcy, and though she did be no means concur with those reports—at least not anymore—seeing him in that attitude made her comprehend how others and her former self could have formulated such an unfavourable and mistaken conception of his character. It would not do.

With her usual light step that did not betray the strength of her resolution, Elizabeth approached Darcy and asked, "Mr. Darcy, why will you not make yourself more genial like your friend?"

Darcy glanced over at Bingley, and then impassively looked away as he answered, "Bingley does not make himself genial, he simply is. Likewise, I will not make myself what I am not."

"That would be very well, if I believed it, but I am afraid it does not quite stand with me. In all my recent interactions with you, I have not found you to be unpleasant company."

Darcy's eyebrows rose and there was a shadow of a smile on his lips as he looked at her. "Is this your way of informing me that I am being disagreeable?"

"Well," she smiled at him archly, "one could hardly call your manners this evening open and friendly, especially when you are determined to stand alone in this desolate corner with your hands stiffly clasped behind your back, to say nothing of that forbidding brow. It would take a person a great deal of courage to approach you when you look thus."

"I suppose you wish me to commend you for your bravery in coming to speak to me, in spite of my terrible severity."

"Perhaps I would, if indeed I thought your appearance so terrible, but I think I know you well enough to not be taken in by it."

"Are you implying that my appearance is a false one?"

"No!" Elizabeth laughed. "I know you would not deliberately deceive, but I do think that you give others a mistaken impression when you make yourself appear this way."

"And what way is that?"

"Why, uninviting, reserved, above the general company."

Darcy considered her a moment. "And you believe this to be a mistaken impression of my character?"

Elizabeth studied his countenance. The brow was still creased; the lips were still pressed. Had the eyes that met hers been cold, they would have combined with his other features to form a complete composition of cool indifference, just as they would have conceived a striking picture of burning resentment had they been smouldering with rage. Since almost the very beginning of her acquaintance with that gentleman, Elizabeth had found his countenance to be inscrutable, but never until that moment had it struck her how eloquent his eyes were, nor how, if one were not very careful, one could easily misunderstand the expression of his other features. As Darcy awaited her answer, his gaze that was fixed upon her was steady, expectant, and perhaps even searching, as though he hoped a look from her would divulge to him her reply before her voice could supply it. Elizabeth would have laughed to herself that a gentleman of such consequence as Darcy could be so curious of what she thought of him had she not been moved by his apparent interest to end his suspense.

However, before she could either grant or deny the general consensus on his character, Charlotte joined them and asked what they were speaking of so secretly in the corner.

Elizabeth turned to Charlotte and for a moment there shone a mischievous gleam in her eyes before she stated, "I was merely teasing Mr. Darcy to renounce his heretofore strictly observed solitude and return to mankind."

Elizabeth was not sure which diverted her more: the wide eyes of Charlotte that darted from Elizabeth to Darcy and then to Elizabeth again, or Darcy's suddenly cast down head and brief cough that seemed designed to conceal his amusement. Diverted as she was, Elizabeth was determined to look not at Darcy but at Charlotte, and with an air of sweet innocence. Once Charlotte had sufficiently recovered from her friend's audacity, she smiled at Darcy and said:

"Well, Mr. Darcy, you are in luck, for soon it will be Elizabeth's turn to be teased. I am going to open the piano-forte, Lizzie, and you know what will inevitably follow."

"You are a strange creature by way of a friend!" exclaimed Elizabeth with mock horror. Turning to Darcy she continued, "Mr. Darcy, I ask you, can you call someone a friend who is always making you play and sing before anybody and everybody?"

"If you were unqualified to give a performance," replied Darcy, "then no, I could not call one who constantly insists upon making you perform before company a friend. However, as I have, before now, had the pleasure of hearing you play and sing—and can earnestly call it a pleasure—I must only conclude that Miss Lucas's insistence now can hold no malice."

"Handsomely said, Mr. Darcy," approved Charlotte. "So, Lizzie, can you refuse to play after such a compliment?"

Elizabeth huffed and tried very hard not to smile; her efforts were in vain. "Upon my word, if my vanity had taken a musical turn, you both would have been invaluable. But as it is, I must maintain that I would really rather not sit down before those who are in the habit of hearing the very best performers."

"Is not Mr. Darcy," persisted Charlotte, "numbered among those who are, as you say, 'in the habit of hearing the very best performers'? He has no objection to hearing you sing and play again, and even goes so far as to call the exercise a pleasure. What can you possibly say to that?"

"I say that it does not bode well for me—or you either, for that matter—if listening to a musical performance from me is so taxing as to be considered an 'exercise,' but I will relent. If it must be so, it must." Glancing gravely at Darcy, Elizabeth concluded, "There is a fine old saying, which everybody here in the country is familiar with: 'Keep your breath to cool your porridge.' Well, sir, I shall keep mine to swell my song."

This time Darcy did not endeavour to suppress or conceal his amusement, and instead gave Elizabeth a private smile and bowed to her as she left him to follow Charlotte to the instrument.

Elizabeth played one song and then, upon request, another. Though not technically proficient, she played and sang with an easy, unaffected air that could not fail to give pleasure to almost all of the company. Some, including Sir William, attempted to solicit a third song from her, but before she could respond, Mary eagerly approached the instrument and supplanted her.

As Mary began to play a rather lengthy concerto, Elizabeth joined Charlotte, who was conversing lightly with Colonel and Mrs. Forster. She had not been standing with Charlotte for five minutes when she noticed that Darcy, though still apparently determined to not speak to anyone, had removed from his corner and taken up a place very near her—so near, in fact, that Elizabeth was quite sure he could hear her conversation. Her heart fluttered and she missed what the Colonel had said which made his wife and Charlotte laugh. Elizabeth hastily joined her laughter to theirs and silently chided herself for being so stupid. For some minutes she valiantly strove to follow the conversation, but in the end the presence of Darcy proved too distracting. With a great deal of impatience towards herself for being so abstracted, and with a little reserved for Darcy for being the cause, Elizabeth decided that there was nothing to be done but to speak to the man.

"This is a positive step towards sociability, Mr. Darcy," uttered she sotto voce so that the others could not overhear. "Listening to the conversation of other people from a pace away is almost as good as engaging in conversation yourself. Do I have reason to hope that by the end of the evening you will be as lively a conversationalist as Sir William?"

"I would strongly advise you against such a hope, Miss Elizabeth, lest you be sorely disappointed."

At that moment, the concluding notes of the concerto rang out and Mary smiled at the spatter of applause offered her from all in the room who had patiently listened to the first page of the arrangement before returning to their own conversations. As she was the only plain one amongst her sisters, Mary had toiled to acquire knowledge and accomplishments to distinguish herself, and consequently was always anxious for opportunities of exhibition. However, she lacked both brilliance and discernment, and performed with an overscrupulous and vain air, so that, though Elizabeth did not play half so well as Mary, Elizabeth's playing had given much more pleasure. Before Mary could open another concerto, she was entreated by her two younger sisters to play some Scotch and Irish airs to which they could dance with some of the Lucases and two or three of the officers. The dancing began, and Darcy looked on in silent indignation.

Noticing the change in his countenance, Elizabeth asked, "Do you not approve of a reel, Mr. Darcy?"

It was clear that such a question Darcy did not expect, but he delayed only a moment before answering, "I do not approve of such a mode of passing the evening."

Elizabeth eyed him in a manner that was as sweet as it was satirical. "Ah, yes. We should all follow your example and spend the evening in grave silence, for I am sure that would be much more interesting than a dance. But look! Mr. Bingley does not seem to share your objection to the amusement."

Darcy looked to where Mr. Bingley and Jane were joining the dancers, and then back to Elizabeth who was watching them with open delight.

"Are you sorry to not be among the dancers?" enquired Darcy.

Elizabeth did not look away from the smiling progress of Jane and Bingley across the floor as she answered, "Not at all."

Darcy regarded her a moment. "I would be willing to dance with you, if you would honour me with your hand."

This secured the attention of Elizabeth from the dancers, for she turned quickly on Darcy with more than a little incredulity. "Willing? You said yourself that you deplore the amusement."

"But I see that you do not, and I would not deplore to have you as a partner, if you were inclined to dance."

"That is very generous—"

"Oh! but look at Jane, Lady Lucas!" came the audible whisper of Mrs. Bennet from where she and that lady sat together on a sofa some trifling feet away. "How handsomely she and Mr. Bingley do dance together! They will be married soon, I do not doubt. He is such a charming young man, and so rich! Only think, Lady Lucas: five thousand a year! You know, I told Jane that if she set her cap at him she could not fail to secure him, for she is so beautiful and such a dear, sweet thing, is she not? And once she and Mr. Bingley are married and settled at Netherfield—but three miles from Longbourn, which will be such a comfort—that must throw her sisters into the paths of other rich men. In fact, Lady Lucas, I am quite hopeful that my Lizzie will soon receive an offer from—"

"Miss Elizabeth," said Darcy brusquely.

The peremptory tone of his voice could not but immediately draw Elizabeth's attention to him, and though instinct rendered her powerless to resist looking at him, she dearly wished she had not. His countenance was fixed in the same severe way it had been when she first approached him that evening, only now, by an intensity of will to guard his expression, he appeared more grave than ever. Elizabeth had earlier thought that cold eyes would give his stern expression an air of indifference, she had not reckoned upon contempt.

"You have not yet answered me. Do you wish to dance?"

"Oh." She swallowed, hoping her voice would be strong and clear as she said, "No, thank you," but it trembled.

Darcy bowed to her shortly and strode away. When Elizabeth dared to look at him again some moments later, her eyes found him standing once more in his solitary corner in the company of Miss Bingley.