A/N: Welcome to another Amalia-Improved chapter. I have been enjoying the speculation in the reviews, and several of you have guessed this segment. Thanks for keeping at it.

Wade

"Which do you mean?" and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: "She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."
P&P Chapter 3

In Brooks, Whites and a few other gentlemen's clubs in London, one could easily find any number of wagers involving Charles Bingley, Fitzwilliam Darcy or both. You could easily get twenty to one if you were willing to take a stab at when Darcy would be married. You could get reasonable odds for asserting that it might be through compromise, or which particular lady would manage to get the deed done. You could get reasonable odds by even betting when he would eventually dance a second set with the same lady. The friendship of the two gentlemen was so particular, that they had a lot more traction in the betting parlors than other more ordinary gentlemen.

There was an entire line of betting, side-betting and cross-betting about when and with whom Charles Bingley would eventually lose his temper. The gentleman was so mild mannered, his peers considered it nearly impossible to rattle him. You could have easily gotten a thousand to one if you are willing to bet that the time would be in the middle of an insignificant country assembly in a tiny market town in Hertfordshire, and the target would be Fitzwilliam Darcy himself.

Bingley heard the words coming out of his friend's mouth, looked at the expression on the young lady's face, and determined that he had just had enough. In a dangerously low voice, he stood very close to his much taller friend, and practically spit out his reply.

"I cannot believe those words just came out of your mouth. I thought you to be a gentleman."

Fitzwilliam Darcy, a man who had rarely been chastised for anything in his entire adult life, was a little bit surprised by the vehemence of the reply. His words would probably be considered a bit ungentlemanly, but considering how savage this assembly was, they did not seem all that bad to him. This was a typical marriage market, with some of the loudest, least subtle and most obnoxious matchmaking mamas he had ever had the poor fortune to encounter, and he was in no humor to tolerate them. It was his friend who was currently vexing him enormously with his incessant nagging about dancing.

He replied, somewhat caustically, "Leave off, Bingley. I rarely dance, and you should know that by now. Your hounding me to do so with some unknown country maiden is not likely to change that. The matchmakers of this town have had enough sport for the evening."

The words were said with a bit of a growl, and lesser, or perhaps less angry men might have moved on, but Charles Bingley, for the first time he could remember, was having none of that.

With fists balled in anger, Bingley hissed, "She heard you!"

Darcy, somewhat caustically replied, "She should not be listening into private conversations."

Getting darker by the moment, Bingley's voice came out in a cross between a growl and squeak, "She is not listening in to our conversation. She is sitting in a chair in the middle of a public assembly, for Christ's sake."

The introduction of cursing, as mild as it was, from a man who normally seemed incapable of upset, in the middle of an assembly, finally alerted Darcy that something unusual was happening. He was a bit flummoxed about why Bingley was so adamant about this particular topic. Darcy had said far worse things in the past with neither remorse nor censure, and the Bingley sisters said far worse things all day every day. Why was this specific assembly, and this specific lady so important to him?

Darcy was just about to reply, when Bingley moved even closer, and stared at him with a look that with other men could presage violence. The veins in his neck were standing out, his fists were balled up ready to strike, and for the first time Darcy saw that his amiable friend might not be as entirely amiable as he took him to be. Darcy was trying to work out whether this new more assertive Bingley would be good or bad, and what this newfound behavior would mean. All in all, Darcy was thinking it was probably a good thing, as the man was a bit too amiable, which allowed people to take advantage of him. Darcy had just reached this conclusion, when Bingley continued with his own statement, as adamant as he had ever been.

"By Christ, Darcy, this is my first night here and I seem to be the only well-mannered person in my entire party. You are supposed to be a gentleman, so by God, you will start acting like one and you will fix this. You will go over to that woman and apologize, or you are will leave… now."

Taken aback by the intensity of the statement, Darcy, for the first time, really tried to think about what he had said. He was a man who did very poorly in crowded spaces, and sometimes was not even certain what came out of his mouth. It was part of the reason he tried to avoid interacting with anybody at assemblies. He had just about determined that Bingley was actually in the right and he had not acted as a gentleman. He furthermore determined to go correct himself as Bingley demanded, when he saw Bingley's look of fury turned into one of perplexity.

Visibly puzzled, Bingley queried, "Where did she go?"

Darcy turned around to follow Bingley's eyes, and saw nothing but an empty chair. He had just worked himself around to being convinced he did in fact owe the young lady an apology and wanted to get the miserable chore over with.

Bingley said, "Darcy, this is most peculiar."

The speed with which Bingley went from murderous to perplexed, somewhat confused Darcy, who replied somewhat tensely, "Bingley, what do you find so odd? As you so correctly pointed out, I slighted a lady, publicly, and she decided to leave before she either heard more or watched you thrash me. Of the three people involved, she is the only one showing the slightest bit of sense."

Bingley shook his head a little bit, spent a few seconds trying to formulate his reply.

"I agree, that is the first sensible thing that has happened in these few minutes. That is not the peculiar thing though."

"So, what has you so flummoxed?"

The feeling of discomfort in the situation was rapidly being replaced by an entirely different and unwelcome feeling. He was feeling ashamed and guilty. All his life he had been taught to act the gentleman, and in this situation, he could not even make the slightest excuse for his behavior. Neither his attitude toward a young lady who had done him no harm and made no effort to attract him, nor his behavior to Bingley had any excuse whatsoever. Bingley was here trying to establish himself in the neighborhood, and the man's entire party was doing its best to sink his reputation before it even got started. Bingley was always loved wherever he went, but he brought two pernicious sisters, a drunken glutton of a brother-in-law, and apparently the rudest friend in the county.

This was not going to go well, and Darcy had to own up to his responsibility. The young lady must have been quite distressed, and he had to admit that if it had been his sister that was thus slighted, he would probably have his housekeeper bandaging his fists by now.

Blowing out a bit of a sigh, he said, "You are absolutely right, Bingley. I owe both you and her an apology, mostly her. Tell me what you find so confusing, and then I will get on with it."

Somewhat belatedly, Bingley looked around to make sure no one else was within hearing distance, and then replied.

"It was most singular. From the beginning of the conversation, she was laughing at us. I do not mean just laughing inside of her head, she was outright laughing at us. It was quiet, but it seemed as if you were the most amusing thing that she has witnessed in years. The more outrageous you got, the more amused she looked. She did not make a sound, or do anything indecorous, but she was shaking and trying her best to not let it explode."

Darcy did not know whether to be amused or offended by that, but said, "It sounds like she is more substantial than your typical young Miss. At least she has a keen sense for the ridiculous."

Bingley replied, "It all continued until I mentioned your name. Then her face looked like I just shot her favorite dog, and literally the next second, she was just gone. I swear, I blinked my eyes, and she was not there anymore. Were you introduced to her?"

Darcy just shook his head and asked, "And you?"

"No. I believe she might be one of the many Bennet sisters, but she was not there when the introductions were made. I can only guess her name from overhearing it. That is why I was going to suggest we get Miss Bennet to introduce her. I believe she is Miss Elizabeth, the second eldest, but I could be wrong."

Darcy only thought about it another second, before replying, "Well, of one thing you are both certain and correct. I need to find her and apologize. There is not a moment to lose."

Both gentlemen, acutely conscious that they were attracting more attention that they wished, and both hoping not to make things even more distressing for the young lady, split up and circled the assembly looking for her. They quickly agreed that if Bingley found her, he would simply keep her in one place long enough for Darcy to get to her. If Darcy found her, he would commence apologizing immediately; after of course finding someone to introduce them as was proper. With respect to good manners, it was better late than never. Of course, it would have been better to follow Hippocrates' 'first do no harm', but that ship had already sailed.

After at least three circuits around the assembly hall, the two gentlemen met near the door, and exited to wander up and down the halls. They eventually came back together in a small alcove next to the cloakroom to discuss the situation in whispers.

"I cannot find her. She seems to have disappeared."

"She must have been either more hurt, or more offended by that comment then it seemed, but really Darcy, there was something about your name. I would swear that she knows it. Perhaps your reputation precedes you."

Darcy sighed, and said, "My reputation has preceded me all my life. It is unfortunate that it very rarely matches reality, but the world is as it is. Everybody seems to think they know something about me before I ever get there. In this particular case though, if my reputation was that of a badly bred, ill‑mannered lunkhead, I would have lived up to it admirably."

"Agreed… Do you think this is a case of reputation, or something else?"

Darcy just gave a grim chuckle, and said, "What does it matter, Bingley. I acted ungentlemanly. If you will oblige me, go back to your angel and see if you can find out if it was in fact her sister. If not, beg her on my behalf to find out who it was, or introduce me and I will ask. I cannot allow this to go unapologized for a single day."

With a nod, Bingley turned to head back to the Assembly Hall. Neither gentlemen saw the young lady sitting on the floor of the cloakroom just a few feet away, and neither realized the entire conversation, and in fact nearly everything they had said to each other, had been overheard.

The gentlemen would have both been distressed to see the combination of a cascade of tears and an expression of white‑hot frustration in the lady's face. Elizabeth Bennet was a woman who did her very best to follow all the rules of propriety, protect herself and her sisters, and never act badly. She had always tried to follow her Aunt Gardiner's example of how a lady should behave. Now, twice in less than an hour, she had been forced into a position of hearing conversations about her that she would rather not have heard. She was not an eavesdropper, but both times, the men left her with terribly unpalatable choices. Confronting them directly would earn her the reputation of being a shrew. Subtly directing them towards better behavior would require more influence and patience than she possessed. Ignoring them seemed impossible if they insisted on hunting her down like a frightened rabbit. At that moment, all Elizabeth wanted to do was get somewhere that was entirely free of any gentleman other than her father.

As soon as they left, she exited the cloakroom, quietly went to the door of the Assembly Hall and looked for one of her friends. Luck was with her, as she found her sister Mary, who was doing her best to avoid any type of excess frivolity. It was the work of a moment to convince Mary that they had done enough dancing between them for the evening. It was a pleasant night in early September, and the moon was well over half full. Both ladies decided to switch their dancing slippers for boots, and they walked the mile back to Longbourn. Their mother would be unhappy, but it was easy enough to get one of the servants to pass a message on to Mrs. Bennet. It would be neither the first, nor the last time Mrs. Bennet would be vexed with one or both of her middle daughters.

The next day would probably prove interesting but frightening, and Elizabeth was not in the least looking forward to it. She was not finding the idea of playing the part of the fox in a hunt appealing at all, and desperately wondered how she could keep Mr. Darcy away from her without raising too much suspicion. This was not an acquaintance she could afford to have. She had too many secrets that must be kept away from the world in general, and Mr. Darcy in particular. She could not be outright rude to the man, as that would show manners as bad as his, but she needed desperately to insure they never had a substantive conversation.

Even when doing her best to avoid the gentleman, she was gradually concluding that it might not be enough. Only the week before, a farmer had been hanged just ten miles from Meryton. He was convicted of killing a merchant in a brawl over damage supposedly done to his daughter. The score in that matter now stood at one disgraced daughter left alone in the world, and two dead men, with neither being likely to have deserved their coffins, but received them, nonetheless.

The reminder did nothing to improve her confidence in the situation.