He noticed the look of concern on Charles' face. A nervous twitch that had him appear distracted, nervous. Nerves the likes he had only seen in men in love. Charles searched for someone as the receiving line continued. Darcy knew it was Miss Bennett, but the air of expectation unsettled him (and apparently Charles). Darcy was not in the line, as he was only a guest, but he watched Bingley carefully as he welcomes the neighborhood to the ball.

Expectation. That was it! Bingley must be planning on making an offer to Miss Bennett!

He resolved right then, during Charles' search for his angel, to ensure that he observe each of the objects closely. He wanted to test his own thoughts as to the level of regard Miss Bennett held for his friend. He could put his own taciturn nature to use in service of his friend's future happiness. The thought cheered Darcy to some degree and thus he was satisfied. His evening promised to be of use and some enjoyment. He might even secure the wicked imp's hand this night.

Would that not be a welcome pleasure?

His thoughts continued to be engaged in such a manner as he made his way towards the ballroom, barely attending to the onslaught of guests as the Bingleys and Hursts remained in the receiving line.

******TTLOR* *TTLOR* *TTLOR******

He felt her. She was there. He knew it in his core. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention. He felt flushed, blushing a deep crimson. He turned around and saw her, across the drawing room as she walked towards the ballroom and his face lost all color. As a point of fact, the entire room felt eerily still, the only noise to be had, his heartbeat gonging loudly in his ears. The demmed cravat felt too tight. He opened his mouth but shut it quickly as he saw her. It must have been a trick of the room for she appeared as if an angel of light. He would keep a watchful eye on her, but for a few fleeting moments, she was his in light and clarity. No space existed. Time stood still, everything of her was illuminated while the rest of the room languished in darkness. He followed her with his eyes, hoping she would seem him. She seemed to be searching, appearing as if sunshine passed through her hair.

Is she searching me out? Could it be that is I she seeks? She is smiling. She is biting that lip, her eyes moving about the room. Can't she see me right here in front of her. I am a mere 40 feet away! Right here! See me!

Her eyes pass over his person as if he was part of the background and he is crushed. She continues to search and Darcy continues to observe. She moves slowly while something, or someone flashes next to her. Blinking stupidly, he sees that her sisters are near her. The youngest, wildest one garrulously chattering in Lizzy's ear and then by turn commanding attention from the nearby cluster of redcoats huddled together and laughing. One of the redcoats approaches the ladies, greets them with a handsome bow, and commences to speak rather intently to them both. While the younger looked non-plussed, Elizabeth's face fell, for a moment. She recovered her countenance quickly and then smiled at, (what was his name?) Officer Denny. As her loud sister and her follower sister, followed the loud one on the arm of the officer, they leave her standing alone. She looked almost sad, forlorn.

She strides confidently over to her friend Miss Lucas and the two begin to speak. She is speaking closely with Miss Lucas now. The subject of their conversation is clearly causing heightened feeling in them both. Elizabeth leans in as Miss Lucas points to something, or someone. She is pointing (though subtly) to me, at me. The Lucas mage is at work once again, up to her familiar devilry as a smirk spreads across her face as she looks me directly in the eye. She knows what she is about. Charlotte Lucas leans in closer, raises her fan to her mouth, all the while holding my gaze. Elizabeth's eyes lift and her head turns towards the object of conversation. Me! Her eyes crinkle, her supple lips form a small pout and her eyes sparkle towards him with something he cannot put his finger on. She neither holds his gaze nor smiles in his direction. Instead, she rather quickly, returns her attention to Miss Lucas seeming to dismiss him out of hand mentally.

That will not stand madam! I will have my say. Darcy stalks around the room (like a ghost –The Spectral Spectator, HA!).

All the while, he keeps his eye on Elizabeth and her companion. The ladies are approached by the same greasy round man that flitted about for Elizabeth's attention on that fateful day he was spotted. Charlotte Lucas's eyebrows rise first towards her friend and greasy companion who slinks away after a very awkwardly execute bow. She then once again focuses on Darcy, subtly smiling and raising one eyebrow towards him. He is now beyond any doubt that Miss Lucas perceives his regard for her very delectable little friend.

Wunderbar! Now I liken her to food to be consumed. Will the indignity never end?

Darcy shivers a bit in remembrance of that terrible day and the horrible night that followed, his positively wicked imaginings. As he wanders about the room, not attending to anything or anyone except his object, he can hear distant chatter, like a buzz of dissatisfaction. He pays it no mind, his inattentiveness crossing the borders of civility. Is not general incivility the very essence of love? He recognizes a few of the attendees as men with whom he had spent some time during him and Bingley's supper with the officers. He gives a polite, but somewhat perfunctory nod and continues the circle the room. Somewhat to his amusement, as the strings of musicians begin to tune, he sees a look of discomfort in the eyes of his prey.

Prey? Pray, what can I be thinking?

He immediately understands as Miss Elizabeth is approached by the ridiculous man and led to the line up of couples for the first dance.

THE FIRST DANCE! HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?

Darcy is sure that steam is being emitted from his very own ears. His face is red, his jaw is tense, and his nostrils are flared. He studies the couple closely. Her face is nothing be politeness, with a flushed undertone of embarrassment. Again, her good manners come through and she attempts to look cheerful as the ridiculous man proceeds to misstep, not once but thrice (once on her toes, once on the toes of a lady very much not his own partner, and once into the chest of the other gentleman in their series). His mouth, filled with spittle, is moving quickly, undoubtedly in apology to all and sundry. What a spectacle. That Elizabeth can maintain her countenance during such a display is nothing short of a miracle, further testament to her good breeding and manners.

I should rescue her, right now. GO! No, stop! You would mortify her and yourself, practically declaring to all of these insignificants of your regard. Think man! Think!

He observes Charles and Miss Bennett in their dance. Their elegance is notable. Charles good humor is evident. Miss Bennett is smiling, as is her want. She truly has the most beautiful smile he has seen, but she smiles entirely too much. He briefly runs into another gentleman, again, as he is not attending where he is walking. He observes Miss Bingley in her dance with a local gentleman, handsome in his way, but a bit of a dandy. Miss Bingley's countenance oozes superiority as she looks down her nose at the man. He observes Mrs. Hurst whispering to her husband. They have opted to forego the first dance. He knows how much Hurst dislikes dancing. His preference is for more sedentary pursuits. As the dancers move towards the end of their steps, Darcy is struck by anticipation. Now is his chance. Miss Elizabeth is returned to the side of the mage, while her cousin slinks off into the direction of some other unfortunate young lady—Miss Mary, who politely smiles at his attention. Darcy is near enough to them to once again catch the eye of Miss Lucas. There it is again, that impertinent eyebrow.

Here goes nothing.