Mr. Darcy stood alone in the study, a glass of brandy in his hand as he tried to drown out the noise of the ballroom and sense of impending doom. He knew that when his friend returned from dealing with his sisters, he would be in for a tongue-lashing and wasn't sure how to explain what had happened earlier so it could be understood.

The door opened and Mr. Bingley strode into the room with a look of frustrated confusion on his face. Mr. Darcy waited, his heart beating faster as he braced himself for the accusations that were surely to come.

"Darcy, what happened tonight?" Mr. Bingley asked.

Mr. Darcy took a slow breath and set his glass down on the desk. "I realize it looked bad," he began cautiously. "But I can assure you that nothing untoward has happened between Miss Bennet and myself. It was a misunderstanding, nothing more."

Mr. Bingley stared at him for a long moment before speaking, his face expressionless. "A misunderstanding involving Miss Elizabeth Bennet's legs on either side of you, your jacket undone and her legs exposed?!"

Mr. Darcy felt his cheeks flush as he cleared his throat awkwardly. "It — I — er it does sound bad when you put it like that."

"And how else should I put it?" Mr. Bingley was incredulous. "Good God, man! It looked like you tupped her against the wall! My sister is inconsolable, bawling in her room, and no one is dancing because they are all scandalized at what happened. You have caused ruin at my ball!"

Mr. Darcy was taken aback. He had not expected such a serious reaction from his friend. He tried to explain, "I know there are rumors swirling about our situation, but I can promise you that no harm was done —"

"Rumors?" Mr. Bingley spat back. "The hallway was clogged with people by the time you and Miss Bennet came out of the room! The door was wide open, everyone saw what happened! There is no rumor about it!"

Mr. Darcy had never been called on the carpet like this before, not even by his own father when he was a lad and had jumped on the back of his father's prize stallion and let the horse have his head chasing cattle and sheep all over Derbyshire.

Taking a deep breath, he explained, "It is exactly as I told you before and Miss Elizabeth explained. Her sister Mary locked her in the room I was using to take a break from the noise and annoyance of the ball. I was in the dark so no one would see me. I do not know how Mary knew I was in there, maybe she saw me enter the room earlier. It was all contrived by that blasted idiot Bennet girl! She locked us in and we couldn't get out. The only thing I am guilty of is being in that room when Mary employed her scheme to keep Mr. Collins for herself!"

Mr. Bingley was dumbfounded. "Mr. Collins?" he repeated, in disbelief.

Darcy sighed heavily and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Yes! That buffoon! Mary locked Elizabeth in the room and told her that she wouldn't allow her to have Mr. Collins all for herself!" He scowled, shaking his head. "As if anyone else would want to spend any amount of time with that pompous, servile fool!"

"So you—you didn't—" started Mr. Bingley, but Darcy cut him off with an emphatic, "No!"

"But it looked quite—"

"I know!" shouted Darcy, exasperated.

There was a long pause as they both considered the implications of this revelation. Finally, Mr. Bingley said quietly, "I suppose…you'll have to marry her now. I mean, you are well and truly compromised."

The thought hung in the air between them like a heavy cloud. Darcy sighed, resigned to his fate. This was not how he'd envisioned his future, but there was no denying the truth of the matter.

"But it's not all bad," Bingley added quickly. "She is uncommonly pretty. Not as beautiful as her sister Jane, but still, she is fetching."

Mr. Darcy nodded, his expression thoughtful. He had been taken with Elizabeth for some time and now it seemed fate had decided their paths would intertwine in a more permanent way. He had to admit, it wasn't the worst thing that could have happened.

"Well I mean it could be worse," Mr. Bingley said. "You could have been locked in there with Mary."

"No one else would have been idiot enough to come up with a scheme like that except Mary!" Mr. Darcy snapped, resuming his pacing around the room. The two men fell into silence, each lost in their own thoughts as the clock continued its steady ticking.

"I need to get back to the ball now. I am the host and with my sisters — well, I need to get back. To whatever ball is left." Mr. Bingley paused, then tentatively added, "Do you think that perhaps… you should make an announcement? Tell the people that are left what really happened so it doesn't spread all over that you er — well — with Miss Elizabeth?"

Mr. Darcy halted, biting back a gasp of outrage as color drained from his face.

"Oh er—" sputtered Mr. Bingley. "Ah, well perhaps not all of them think that. I'm sure many, a great many, believe you to be an absolute gentleman —"

Mr. Darcy flattened his lips. "You know making any sort of announcement, publicizing my private life to any sort of scrutiny is anathema to me."

But Mr. Bingley persisted. "People will write letters and this will go far and wide if you do not try to head it off now. Many people have already left, but — what will happen to your sister if she cannot have a season because of your reputation from this?"

Mr. Darcy closed his eyes, running his hands down his face. For his sister, he would do anything. Even if it meant embarrassing himself by baring his most mortifying experience to the public.

With a heavy sigh, he ran his hand through his hair and finally spoke. "Very well, I know there is no other option if I want to salvage any semblance of my reputation. I shall announce the truth in front of the remaining guests at the ball. Let us go now before I change my mind."

Gulping down a fortifying swallow of brandy, Mr. Darcy followed his friend through the halls of Netherfield. Each step seemed to become more difficult as the painful reality of what had to be done weighed heavily on him. The sounds of excited conversations, filled with scandalous words such as ravished, rake, duel, and compromised, grew louder as they approached the ballroom.

When they entered, a thick silence quickly filled the room. Every eye was immediately upon them, everyone eager to witness and speculate about the events unfolding. Mr. Darcy stood in the center of the room, feeling angrier than ever at Mary Bennet for making such a spectacle of himself in order to save his reputation. He felt exposed and vulnerable amongst the murmurs and whispers surrounding him.

Mr. Darcy cleared his throat. His voice echoed off the walls as he spoke. "Ladies, gentlemen. As many of you have heard or seen, there was a rather embarrassing misadventure this evening. I'd like to take this opportunity to explain the true story of what happened." He paused for a moment, looking around the room.

start here — rewrite the above adding more detailed description and narrative

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet was locked in one of the rooms by her younger sister, Miss Mary Bennet. A room that I had been — er taking a break from the ball. I had kept the room dark as I did not want to draw attention to myself or invite company. However, we were accidentally locked in, and no one heard our cries for help. We were in the process of climbing out the window when her sister and Miss Bingley opened the door finding us in what looked like a compromising position."

Complete silence fell over the room as he delivered his announcement. He felt an uncomfortable pit in his stomach, as this was easily the most awkward event he had ever been a part of. It seemed to stretch on forever, and just when he thought it could not become any more unbearable, even Mary's singing earlier that evening would have seemed like heaven compared to this.

Sir Lucas stepped forward, his presence commanding attention. Heads turned and all conversations hushed as he made his way through the assembled group. His stance was proud yet concerned and his authoritative presence commanded respect. The faces of those gathered around him mirrored his deep concern for Miss Elizabeth.

"Pardon me," he said firmly yet gently. "We are all very concerned about Miss Elizabeth. You are a fine upstanding gentleman and we all here know you will do right by her?"

The room filled with nods and murmurs of agreement. It was more a statement than a question, causing Mr. Darcy to clench his jaw while trying to keep his cool. He felt trapped, his dark eyes reflecting his inner turmoil. How had he ended up in this situation? He had managed to avoid being entangled in any of the machinations of the enterprising mamas and debutantes of London society only to be ensnared by a Hertfordshire girl who wanted to be married to him less than he wanted to be married to her. Mr. Darcy gritted his teeth and nodded. "Yes," he replied. "I plan to call on Mr. Bennet in the morning to go over the particulars."

At this news, the room erupted into a cacophony of cheers and applause. Sir Lucas walked towards Mr. Darcy and patted him jovially on the back, offering his congratulations on such a fine match. "I'm sure it was a jest on Miss Mary Bennet's part. One that did not turn out quite as she had planned with you already in the room. Oh well, but Miss Elizabeth will make a fine wife!"

Mr. Darcy merely nodded brusquely before turning away and making his exit from the room, ignoring Mr. Bingley's call for him to stay. His thoughts were a confusing jumble of emotions, as he had been forced into a marriage with a woman he barely knew and he was uncertain of what the future might hold.

He made his way to the study, the only place where he could find some peace amidst the chaos. He poured himself a glass of brandy, hoping that the liquor would help to dull the events of the evening and push away the images of Elizabeth's fragile exposed calf and ankle, and the way her trim waist felt beneath his hands, which kept intruding into his thoughts.