A/N: To those who have left reviews, thank you once again for all the encouragement you have given me in regards to this story. I do not share this writing with people I know, feeling that the anonymity of this site assures me the most appropriate audience (other JAFF lovers) and also sincere feedback. I have sometimes wondered whether it would have been better to wait until I had this whole story completely done (I had most of it in rough draft but this chapter and the next were in a nebulous state). I am sorry for the delays and that it may have resulted in the timeline of this story appearing more protracted that it actually is. This whole "what if" occurs within a two week period, this chapter concluding the first week. So for those thinking that Darcy is being a little dense about it all, I hope it provides some reassurance. If anything I was thinking it might be questionable that he would be capable of the dramatic shift he will eventually make in so short a time period (yes.. HEA is not far off), but as one who has gone through a similar experience of questioning, I justify it by telling myself I am focusing on the tip of the iceberg. There was one review that did come across as being almost offended by Darcy's character. I mean it in the kindest possible way when I suggest that you might be better to let my Fanfic go. I began this story to help open up my own heart during a period of grief, and if it is doing the opposite for you then my style, or this story at least, is just not compatible with where you are at. Can I suggest you look through the stories I have marked as Favs, or better yet, find an author you do connect with and work your way through theirs. That is how I began navigating through this site. But trust me when I say that life is far too short to be reading fiction that stresses us out. I like to find ones that open my heart, suggest possibilities, perspectives, opportunities for growth and compassion, so I remember how it feels inside as I turn back to face my own life challenges.

Love and hug to all those reading :)

Wednesday, by all outward appearances, was like any other day at Longbourn; filled with chatter, sewing, music, reading, all of which was interspersed with the sound of Lydia's excitable feelings, this time regarding the possibility of a handsome rogue in Mr Wickham. Added to this picture of domesticity at Longbourn was now the art of evasion or forbearance of Mr Collins' compliments or admonishments. Elizabeth sighed as she tried to divert yet again, the threat of a fully-fledged sermon from their cousin. She was still unable to determine whether Lydia spoke so boldly in front of Mr Collins on purpose or if she was just insensible to his intermittent horror which her careless words were causing. Whatever her sister's intentions, it appeared evident that Lydia was not truly convinced of any genuine threat, her descriptors tending toward dashing romantic villains rather than tales inciting cautionary behaviour. But as she was abiding by their father's rules about staying within the grounds of Longbourn until further instructions, the stories she was dreaming up with Kitty had the meagre value of being someway conciliatory for their fettered freedoms. Elizabeth may have even laughed along with them had she not been so sensitive to the near truth and painful reality of Wickham's duplicity. When not forced to engage with Mr Collins or apply herself dutifully to practicing on the piano for an hour, which had now become a form of escape from the same man, Elizabeth's musings were with Mr Darcy. He would be writing to his butler and solicitor in London today, if he had not already done so last evening, and to a cousin who was a colonel in the army. Meanwhile, Sir William was to meet with some of the shop keepers in Meryton to suggest polite general caution when extending credit. With a sense of monotonous banality, Elizabeth accepted that there was nothing she herself could do at present to aid the situation other than wait to hear back from Charlotte, who had volunteered to accompany her father into town and speak to the apothecary's wife whom they both thought best trusted to consult regarding the welfare of young women across all social classes in the vicinity.

Thursday looked to be a copy of the previous day, the weak November sun still glimmering valiantly despite an ominous backdrop of gathering clouds on the horizon as they waited for news. Jane and Elizabeth were out strolling in the garden when they noticed the bustle that attended the arrival of visitors. They were met by the housekeeper as they approached the side door, immediately quickening their pace with smiles, upon understanding who was in attendance. Entering the sitting room they found the majority of the Netherfield company present, Mr Darcy and Mr Bingley quickly rising to their feet, while the two elegantly dressed sisters remained seated. Elizabeth greeted them all but it was Darcy's face her eyes returned to, scanning his features to determine if she could, how he was fairing. He seemed relaxed, content even, if the warmth in his eyes and amused smile as he watched her study his countenance, was anything to go by. Satisfied all was well, she lifted her chin, flashed him a quick impish grin, before forcing her attention back to the group. She slipped quietly towards the end of one of the settees, confident her mother's attention had never wavered from Mr Bingley who, in customary fashion, was a perpetual wellspring of affability. The special purpose of the visit, Bingley was relating as he settled Jane in a seat near himself, was to personally invite the Bennets to the Netherfield Ball which was set for the following Tuesday. This news was met with a cacophony of joyful exclamations.

Elizabeth's position on the settee put her at an impossible distance for any dialogue with Mr Darcy, however as conversation tumbled forth from various sources she found it allowed her easy access for studying the Netherfield guests. Suspicions were soon confirmed as to there being multifaceted motives for the presence of the Bingley sisters. They had appeared genuinely happy to see Jane upon her entering, but currently displayed only polite tolerance as they watched their brother single her out, compliment Mrs Bennet, smile unceasingly regardless of who spoke and generally present a perfect display of gentlemanlike sociability. Miss Bingley's and Mrs Hurst's forbearance was tried to comic proportions when their brother extended the ball invitation to Mr Collins upon learning he would still be residing with the Bennet family. Elizabeth suspected they were not even mollified when Bingley credited his confidence in the wonderful success the ball was assured of being, to the careful preparations made by his sisters. Indeed, he exuded so much kindness and charitability that Elizabeth could not imagine how he did not fail to inspire all those present with a similar energy. Her admiration of his contagious goodwill soared to new heights when he directed his sole attention back to Jane.

'Miss Bennet, may I have the very great pleasure of engaging you now for the first two dances?'

Elizabeth instantly felt Jane's pleasure, and though embarrassed by their mother's audible gasp of 'Oh, Jane!' she could well relate to the emotion. Bingley gave no indication he registered anything beyond Jane's smile, her calm composure appearing all the more graceful within the Longbourn sitting room as she gave the warm affirmative response, 'It would be my honour, Mr Bingley.'

Darcy, who had been glancing toward Elizabeth at irregular intervals, was captured anew by the loveliness of her expression now brimming with pleasure. When she threw one of her quick bright smiles his way, he caught her eye and gave a questioning tilt of his chin. She paused, her smile softening into something more personal, the remembrance of their conversation in the Netherfield gardens bridging the otherwise populated distance between them. Her eyes shone in a way that was so familiar to him it almost felt like home, and she gave a single nod. Darcy knew with an unwavering certainty he could not explain, that she had understood his unspoken request and the supper dance was confirmed as his. He felt like laughing at this curious way of communicating but contained it within a smile. Unbeknownst to them this silent interchange was witnessed by Miss Bingley who looked confusedly between the two of them.

Mrs Hurst noticed her sister's unease and sought to appease it. She rested her hand on Caroline's. 'Jane dear, Caroline and I are so pleased you will be opening the ball with us,' exclaimed Mrs Hurst, with the intent to draw the conversation back around themselves. 'It is such a comfort to know you will be alongside us for the first dance and there is no one in this neighbourhood I believe, who could carry it off with the necessary grace and elegance other than yourself.'

Elizabeth looked over at this vocal dichotomy of overt approval and covert disapproval; compliment and insult in one single sentence.

Miss Bingley instantly saw an opportunity. 'Why, yes,' she preened. 'It was the particular wish common to us all that you have that honour with Charles, as Louisa is to dance with Mr Hurst and I am to open the ball with Mr Darcy.' Miss Bingley then threw a triumphant look at Elizabeth who did her best to hold back a laugh.

Surprisingly, this intended provocation toward Elizabeth made it unexpectedly easy for her to offer the transparent woman a warm compassionate smile. Had Miss Bingley known how empowering it was to find the barb so completely ineffectual in threatening her equanimity, Elizabeth suspected she may have preferred to hold her tongue. 'That is just as it should be Miss Bingley,' Elizabeth graciously offered. 'I am so pleased for you all; a propitious beginning for what is sure to be a wonderful evening.'

Miss Bingley, rather surprised by this liberality, could think of no other response than coolly redirecting her attention back to Jane. In a subtle attempt to distinguish whom they deemed worthy, the Bingley sisters then proceeded to provide a fulsome display of warm affection toward Jane alone, declaring they had missed her company exceedingly since she took leave of them last Sunday and plying her with multiple questions about what she had been up to.

Elizabeth got the distinct impression they were all dismissed, the main objective of Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst now being a vigilance over all interactions with the Bennets. Any comments offered by Mrs Bennet into their conversation was duly curtailed with new questions directed at Jane. The younger girls were also ignored, and when politely possible, the ladies would teasingly interrupted their brothers efforts to engage others. The regular glances toward herself and Mr Darcy also suggested they were under surveillance. Elizabeth could only smile to herself and then even more broadly when her eyes occasionally met Darcy's, who was clearly aware of their managerial exertions. There was a delicious feeling of conspiracy between Mr Darcy and herself, something they both knew Miss Bingley could not touch.

Mr Collins' voice suddenly broke through the charm of such reflections.

'Mr Darcy,' he began, 'I did not have the presence of mind at our introduction to mention my delight in finding we have a mutual connection. I am the rector of Hunsford, an honour afforded to me by the beneficence of your most esteemed aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I wish to inform you that she was in the best of health when I last spoke with her after morning service on Sunday. Your cousin, the beautiful pearl of Rosings, was also in fair health and even condescended to wish me a pleasant journey. Had I known you were in residence here at Hertfordshire I would have offered to carry a message to you. Lady Catherine always appreciates the offer of such courtesies and I would be pleased to afford you the same service, if you would find it to your liking.'

Darcy knew Elizabeth would be smiling at this speech and watching for his reaction, but he had not anticipated the sudden lull in conversation as all eyes turned to him. He attributed the cause to it being the first time he was to speak since their arrival and belatedly realised how remiss he had been in his social duties by failing to converse with any of the party. He wedged open his old reticence and nodded his head in acknowledgement. 'Thank you, Mr Collins, for your offer. I am pleased to know they are both well and will mention your offer of service to me, when next I write. I trust you have been enjoying your sojourn with the Bennets.'

'Yes, the visit has met all my expectations and before my departure, I trust all my hopes as well' and he glanced briefly in the direction of a proud looking Mrs Bennet and gave a slight incline of his head. 'But I am not one to let my present happiness outweigh the pleasure of assisting others, so let me assure you once again, Mr Darcy,' he continued, 'of my willingness to be of service to you. I will be residing here until Saturday week and would be happy to carry the letter you plan to write to Lady Catherine with me on my return. You have but to ask. It would gratify me exceedingly to be of service to one such as yourself and to be the means of forwarding the strength of familial bonds. Lady Catherine speaks with the utmost praise of your person and abilities. It is indeed an honour to be in your presence. Perhaps when you next visit Kent I might have the honour of introducing you to the mistress of Hunsford and benefit from the privilege of your presence at my Sunday service.'

'You are married?' asked Darcy.

'Not yet, but the Lord has bestowed me with a generous living and choices abundant, so it is my respectful intention to fulfil my duty in this manner according to the wisdom of the Holy Word and my ever attentive and benevolent patroness.'

Darcy was saved from replying by the sound of Elizabeth's voiced enquiry.

'Miss Bingley, Mrs Hurst, have you had the pleasure of meeting Lady Catherine de Bourgh? I understand from Mr Collins that she is a remarkable lady and that her daughter, the heiress of this great estate, is credited as possessing that special something which I believe you once spoke of, which marks her apart from the common.' At their cool negative, Elizabeth smiled, unperturbed. 'As close friends of Mr Darcy and admirers of Pemberley, you would perhaps appreciate a description of the grandeur of Rosings Park. We are told it is rather majestic and there is one particularly magnificent fireplace that is so noteworthy that I suspect I could not do the description justice. Mr Collins, this is your point of eloquence that no one could match. Do share with them all the splendour of Lady Catherine's abode.'

With a topic so dear to his heart, Mr Collins obliged with alacrity, pouring forth unrelenting effusions of praise both for Mr Darcy's relatives and for the glories of Rosings Park. The parsons attentions now fixed elsewhere, Elizabeth turned her own back to Darcy. He was looking at her with gratitude and admiration. With an almost imperceptible tilt of her head, Elizabeth let her eyes slide toward her sister Mary before coming back to meet Darcy's. He looked at Mary briefly then back at Elizabeth. She nodded ever so slightly.

Darcy rose and took a seat closer to Elizabeth's sister. 'Miss Mary,' he said in a quiet voice so as not to draw the attention of everyone else, 'did you know I have a sister who is also very fond of the pianoforte? I remember her learning the same concerto you played at Lucas Lodge a fortnight ago. It was Piano Concerto No.3 in C Minor, was it not?'

Once over the shock of being addressed by Mr Darcy, Mary cautiously replied in the affirmative.

'My sister Georgiana is constantly in search for more Beethoven but has a great fondness for Mozart as well. Do you have a preference for one composer over another?'

As Mary began to deliver the reply she had formulated, Miss Bingley's voice sung out slicing through all conversation.

'Oh, dear Charles, look at the weather! Those clouds are looking rather menacing. We really must be heading home before we are caught in a downpour,' and with those words she and Mrs Hurst were already rising to their feet. 'Thank you for your hospitality,' they said, addressing Mrs Bennet voluntarily for the first time since their arrival. They barely waited for a reply before Miss Bingley addressed another. 'Mr Collins, my apologies for the interruption but we really must be going. Mr Darcy, if you are ready to depart..?' She left the question hanging as she saw Darcy, who was sitting inexplicably beside the dullest of the Bennet sisters, instantly look toward Elizabeth. Miss Bingley followed his gaze, feeling a surge of irritation at the sight of Elizabeth's easy smile. Glancing back at Darcy, then to Miss Mary, Elizabeth once more, before back to Darcy, she could not fathom what was going on between them. There was an irritating feeling that they were communicating something right under her nose and yet she knew they had not uttered a word to each other this whole time.

Elizabeth, with no intention to be rude toward, nor cowered by Miss Bingley, turned her full attention to the ladies now standing amongst their midst. Rising to her feet, Elizabeth sensed rather than saw Darcy stand also, and walk in the direction of Bingley.

'Miss Eliza,' Miss Bingley clipped out coldly with an indifferent curtsey before turning away to the only Bennet she felt merited her real civility. 'Dear Jane,' she crooned as she clasped her friends hands, 'it has been such a pleasure to see you so well, hasn't it Louisa? And we shall look forward to catching up again very soon. I am sorry this visit has been curtailed by such threatening skies but we really must be on our way.'

All these sentiments were repeated by Bingley, who was startled into compliance at the sight of his sisters moving away from the settee. Jane said all that was right and walked with her friends to the door. Mrs Bennet and Mr Collins followed with Elizabeth, a quiet Mary cautiously trailing a little farther behind.

As they watched the ladies being handed into the carriage by a footman, the gentlemen made their adieus once again. Darcy tried to make sure he did not raise any suspicions in Mrs Bennet, but he treasured the bright smile he received from Elizabeth and appreciated the tentative one from Miss Mary. Turning to the carriage he saw Miss Bingley's dark look and actually pitied her. There was nothing Miss Bingley could do or say to impede the connection Elizabeth shared with him. It was a trust that had progressed beyond speech, and despite nary a word, he felt inexplicably satiated with the visit, settling into the carriage with quiet satisfaction.