NOTES: Lizzy's POV, next will be Darcy's. The beginning of the ball, with lots of descriptions and DRAMA! No spoilers here, nope. Happy reading! :)

~Vinny

The ball at Netherfield began as it always did. The Bennet family arrived on time, and Lizzy quickly met up with her good friend Charlotte Lucas (who had been blessed with wisdom beyond her years, and cursed with a face much the same). They were greeted by countless family friends, who all oohed and ahhed over Lizzy's new dress. She took the compliments with a blushing grace, and deflected those that seemed too serious.

The dress was a deep blue, bright as paint and dark as the ocean, with sewn-on pearls that trailed around the hem. It matched Jane's (which was sky blue), and…. together… Lizzy felt.. actually pretty, in that dress.

And other people must have seen it too— Lizzy's first two sets were immediately snatched up! One by a very charming ex-soldier who was far too old for her, and the other by a second footman (who had been invited out of kindness) and who seemed to be too overwhelmed with the prospect of touching her skin to make conversation.

But the dancing was really only half of the excitement— the dramatics of it all made up for any discrepancies in the dancing!

Not half an hour in, and Mr. Knox (a fickle man with eyes like a cat) had already broken the heart of Miss Eleanor Michaels (equally fickle, but great fashion sense). Not to mention, little Tom Baxter (who was 13 and nicked a very expensive bottle of wine) getting chewed out by his long-winded mother, Mrs. Baxter, while his older siblings looked on in mortified acceptance.

Lizzy covered her smile with one hand as she was swept along by the crowd. How.. full energy, some people's lives were! How on display! That would never happen to her, of course. That was the sort of thing to happen to other people.

Suddenly, a collective gasp made its way through the crowd. The heavy doors at the front of the hall had been pushed aside, and a group of well-dressed gentlefolk were making their own way through the crowd. Unfortunately, the crowd was fighting back, pushing over each other to get a better look at the newcomers.

Lizzy, like everyone else, moved forward, craning to get a better look.

She saw a flash of ebony curls and then—

"LIZZY!" Her father appeared in front of her, as if he had been ejected by the crowd for dissent. Indeed, his expression was not one of merriment, but.. consternation.

Her brow immediately lowered in worry. "Papa?" She asked, gripping his shoulders gently. "What's the matter?"

Mr. Bennet set his jaw, teeth clicking together in agitation. "The guests," he said. "Mr. Darcy is here."

Lizzy felt all of the color drain from her face. Mr. Darcy. She hadn't thought of him in… Well, since her last nightmare.

Years ago— but still very vivid in her memory— Lizzy had dreamed that when she had stayed at his home, that horrible man had found out her plot to escape, and locked her in a dark cellar until she woke up. The worst part was she could hear William crying through the wall. That sweet, intelligent, kind boy… Left to grow up with no one but Mr. Darcy for company.

And now he was here. The man who had tried to send her to an orphanage when she was only ten years old.

To her credit, Lizzy didn't faint. No, she was made of stronger stuff than that.

She was not made of stuff so strong that she didn't hide under a staircase near the back of the party.

Lizzy, crouched down and hugging her knees like she was a little girl again, watched as the feet of dancers floated by, dangling, scuffing, kissing the polished floor with dainty steps. She buried her face in her knees. The song playing used to be one of her favorites.

Suddenly, her solitude was ruined by two pairs of immaculate shoes that stopped outside the staircase to speak.

"I say!" Said the shoes on the left, in a somewhat reedy, jubilant voice. "This ball is a smashing hit! Very good idea, if I do say so myself… and they were right!"

A grunt from his companion.

"Hm? Oh! They— my colleagues at the London club, that is— were right that the girls found in the country ARE prettier than the ones found in town! Rather charming manners, as well."

His companion spoke up then, and his voice chilled Lizzy to the bone. She remembered that icy tone all too well.

"Bingley, there are only ten tolerable people here, if that. I do not see the charming manners quite the same as you do."

The shoes of the left (they must have belonged to the elusive Mr. Bingley) let out a high-pitched chuckle. "Oh, but surely, Darcy… you… you saw the girl from before, yes? The one in the blue dress? I thought her… well. She's the most beautiful… She was a vision, Darcy."

If he was not so refined, Lizzy would call the noise Mr. Darcy made then, a 'snort.'

"Please," he said, and Lizzy could almost see him brushing off his waistcoat, like he had done after lecturing her or William. "The Bennet girl? I asked after her family, and was sorely disappointed."

"But you talked with her? Didn't you?"

"I didn't have the chance," Mr. Darcy sniffed. "But I'm not sure I would have wanted to. I am not of the correct mind to frolic with people I care nothing for— much less ones that seem nothing but vapid, tedious, and self-centered. That Bennet girl— the oldest?— was barricading herself in a corner.. among her own people!.. How uncharitable of her… Truly, Bingley, I want nothing less than to make any acquaintances here."

Mr. Bingley let out some shocked sound, and begun to take his companion to task for the comment (good man!), but by then the conversation was already moving away, leaving Lizzy Bennet beneath the stairs with a hollow feeling in her stomach.

Then, she shook herself off. She may have been cowed by the mere thought of her childhood villain, but she would NOT be beaten by a name-calling slug. She was going to dance, talk, and have fun this evening. And no one needed to know if it was out of spite.

Lizzy found Jane by the opposite wall, sitting with her hands folded in a chair. She practiced her smile as she walked up to her younger sister.

"Darling Jane," she said, stopping just before her feet hit the chair legs, "What are you doing out on the side? Isn't there an army of men, all clamoring for your dance card?"

Jane blushed, the pigment burning out scarlet against her pale complexion. She discreetly poked a slipper out of her skirt, and showed off the bruising around her ankle.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to dance for the rest of the night," she whispered, the blush even more prominent when her shining teeth emerged in a smile. "But.. Mr. Bingley already secured my supper set… and he insisted on dining with me regardless!"

Lizzy breathed into a smile, for her sister's sake. "How gentlemanly of him!" She said approvingly. "I do hope he turns out to be unlike his friend."

Jane's brow wrinkled in the most beautiful way a brow could. "Who's his friend?"

"Well, his friend is…"

Lizzy trailed off, scanning the ballroom, looking for the horrid man. Instead, her eyes locked (by chance) onto a familiar face.

Marsh colored eyes. Dark lashes. Skin like a Greek statue, hard, and pale. Black curls that washed over his forehead in a wave. He had grown up so much, but underneath the scowl and the fine suit, it was undoubtedly, unquestionably…

"WILLIAM!" She cried out, and— without even hesitating for a moment— bunched up her skirts and ran to him, vaulting herself up into his arms.

"LIZZY!" He exclaimed, his face lighting up as he caught her in mid-air.

Laughing like no time had passed at all, he spun her around and Lizzy was overtaken by his familiar scent. She had almost forgotten it— and he had almost drowned it in soaps— but it was still there. She breathed it in, and held him tighter before pulling away.

"I can't believe it," she breathed, unable to keep the grin off her face, "you're here! It's been so many years…"

"I'm here, Lizzy, I'm here," William agreed, that shy, beautiful smile of his making an appearance. He still had his dimples. "And I—"

He stopped, suddenly, stiffening like a toy soldier. He dropped his arms abruptly, melding them to his sides as he bowed formally. "Miss Lizzy," he said, in a voice that she didn't like, "It is a pleasure to see you again. Good day."

Then William turned around, and walked quickly out of the room. Lizzy was left bereft and confused until she noticed it: the silence. Every single person in that ballroom had stopped, and was currently staring her way.

Lizzy gulped, and the fear began to set in.

"We're old friends," she said, inadequately, into the silence. "We met as children. On a family trip to Lambton. I was ten years old."

That would hopefully quell some of the whispers, but already people were turning to each other, and speaking in low voices. Lizzy felt as though she might die of mortification.

Had she just been compromised? Surely... not? There was a perfectly reasonable explanation… And the people knew her character— knew she wasn't like that… But they had used each other's Christian names.. But it had been in front of at least 10 dozen spectators.. they could call them chaperones…

As the crowd began to break apart, and the music started up again, Lizzy drifted out to the side, worrying with the hem of her dress. No one dared speak from her, apart from Charlotte Lucas and her younger sisters— and they all were comforting, but obviously wanted to know more about Mr. Darcy, the younger. Her father was probably off somewhere having a miniature heart attack. Her mother was trying to stifle the gossip as best she could.

There was no sign of William from that point on.

Until, at the very end of the ball— one set left— when a large warm hand grabbed Lizzy's wrist, and pulled her through double glass doors, and out onto the balcony. She could feel warm breath on her face, and her heartbeat pulsed hard and fast in her ears.

And just like that, what people might think was the last thing on Lizzy Bennet's mind.