Fitzwilliam Darcy…

Will watched in amusement at the way Lizzie stared at him in horror. Did she have a problem with dancing with him in general or did she have two left feet he was currently unaware of? He arched an eyebrow.

"To coin a phrase you utilized on me earlier, Ms. Bennet, I'm not asking to seduce you. I'm just asking you for a dance. Society is made up of dances. And, believe it or not, the way you dance also speaks a lot about the way you do business." Will remarked slowly as she looked up at him uncertainly, a stark vulnerability marking her gaze despite her attempts to shutter it. She was uncomfortable and he knew it.

"How so?" She asked softly as he smiled at her winsomely. The world of business was cutthroat. It was as dangerous as the streets he was sure she grew up in. It was time she became aware of that.

"Business is like a dance. Each move you make is choreographed, is planned out, is strategized. You can be moving left while your partner is moving right. If that is the case then your business will fail. But if you and your partner are moving in the same direction, if you learn the same steps as your competition then your business will succeed. It's not about right and wrong, it's about who dances the dance better. That is why the ballroom is also the place where some transactions can be created or some can be broken. We are as others perceive us, Ms. Bennet." Will explained evenly, watching as Elizabeth glanced around the room as if seeing it for the first time, his explanation sinking into her head as she gazed at the space. It seemed to make sense to her.

"Are you saying that the way you do the waltz can make or break a deal?" She asked incredulously as Will shrugged. It may seem ridiculous but it was true. That was the way the world worked in a society still ruled by old-fashioned stipulations. Old habits died hard.

"Precisely." He answered her quietly as her gaze came to rest on his slowly. She sighed.

"I don't know the waltz." She remarked matter-of-factly, causing him to laugh despite himself. She cringed as if insulted by his amusement and he took one of her hands in his before pointing down at her feet and placing her other hand where it needed to go.

"That's why you asked me to teach you propriety is it not, Ms. Bennet? There would no reason for me to teach you anything if you already knew the system." He remarked with a knowing grin, trying to put her at ease despite his own uncertainty at the situation they had allowed themselves to be put in. He didn't need to be touching her at all, didn't need to find himself at this proximity to her person.

"Without music, it's a little more difficult, but the steps are reasonably easy and can be counted out in your head. It'll make sense when there's music to follow." Darcy explained as he showed her the steps and tried to keep himself from smiling as she counted them out to herself underneath her breath as she moved. Stepping on his toe, she muttered a quick apology as he grimaced at the way her heel dug into his shoe.

"There's one advantage to being female, Ms. Bennet. You can allow the man to lead. Just follow me. Let the steps become instinctual. If you constantly have to count your way through a dance then you can't wager with your partner. For example, let's say you are dancing with a man you want to do business with. You need your wits about you to challenge his statements, to make deals with him, to counter his offers. You can't do that if you are counting." Darcy explained as Lizzie sighed before relaxing her stance. She seemed reluctant to give him any power over her but also seemed to realize the truth in his statement. She was beginning to see how the game was played on his turf. All in all, she was a fast learner and picked up the steps rather quickly, using his own strategy against him as she looked up at him suddenly.

"Why are you so determined to see me leave this branch of your company?" She asked quietly, surprising Will as she peered up at him inquisitively.

"Are you trying to bargain with me, Ms. Bennet?" He asked her wryly as she grinned up at him deviously.

"Just practicing what you are preaching." She remarked with an innocent shrug as he sighed. It was a legitimate question.

"It's not that I question your ability to do the job, Ms. Bennet. But this is a world you may never come to understand." He said in a low tone as she shook her head at him, each of them moving now easily across the dance floor as if they had always danced together. She frowned.

"Then you are questioning my worth over my ability. That's insulting, Mr. Darcy." She replied honestly. He didn't back down.

"I'm not defending myself, Ms. Bennet. Insulting or not, it's a fact that I cannot avoid in my position." He commented lightly, both of them moving faster in irritation without realizing it. Their anger was making them bold.

"You lie, Mr. Darcy. You are avoiding it. The fact is, I know I am not culturally or socially acceptable. It makes it hard to succeed in a business when the upper crust cannot accept the success of the socially inept. Which of us is actually prejudice, Mr. Darcy? Take away your money and you are left with just a man. Money does not make you a god. We are all, in the end, fallible." Elizabeth stated simply as Will looked down at her with a creased brow. She didn't understand.

"My favorite color is green, Mr. Darcy. I am addicted to candy corn. I am afraid of spiders, I hate the way some people like to chew on ice, I love classic movies, and I tend to tap my foot against the floor when I am nervous or agitated. Point being, I am human. I have a face, a body, and a legitimate desire to become successful despite what position fate and birth handed me. Tell me, does the infallible Mr. Darcy have a favorite color? Do your socks have holes in them underneath those perfectly shined shoes? Should I wonder if you are as much a robot as you are a man?" Elizabeth asked as Darcy stopped suddenly, letting her move away from him as he shook his head at her statement. Both of them were breathing hard.

"You forget, Ms. Bennet, that the world is not a fair place. It doesn't care what your favorite color is. It does not matter how I view you personally. Fact is, birth does matter, Ms. Bennet, no matter how much you or any of us detest the fact. Sometimes fate does come into play. That is the reason why I want to send you to another branch of the company. You have talent that I admire, a way with words that can take you places you can only dream about. But it, more than likely, will not happen here where birth does matter. Look around you. This is reality. And if you want me to be blunt, then it bites." Darcy replied sternly as Elizabeth shook her head angrily, glancing around the prestigious ballroom in agitation.

"This isn't reality, Mr. Darcy. It's a strange nightmare in the likeness to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland where the Queen of Hearts is shouting 'Off with her head!' You can dress it up how you want, but the fact remains that the only thing keeping others from succeeding here is the fear the elite make those, like myself, who try by pointing out our inferiority. What would you say if I told you that I wasn't afraid?" Elizabeth asked breathlessly as Darcy raised an eyebrow before leaning over suddenly to whisper in her ear.

"Then I'd tell you that my favorite color is blue, that I never have holes in my socks, that I fear only my own failure, that movies in general are rhetorical, and that I pray you can put on one hell of a show before the curtain falls on your delusions, Lizzie." Darcy replied stoically just as someone cleared their throat from the side of the room. Both of them looked up instantly to find Lady Catherine DeBourgh standing at the edge of the floor with her arms crossed across her chest authoritatively.

"I wonder, nephew, if I might have a moment of your time?" Darcy's aunt asked insistently as Darcy nodded before glancing back over at Elizabeth whose eyes were now wide with a mix between anger and surprise. What had just happened here? Were they angry at each other or…?

"I suppose the lessons are over?" Lizzie asked almost in a whisper as Darcy started to walk out of the room slowly behind his aunt. He shook his head.

"You suppose wrong, Ms. Bennet. If you are that determined to remain here, then they have just begun." He stated simply before continuing out of the room, hoping that they both could forget the slip he had made by calling her 'Lizzie.' The woman angered him to no end. He didn't need this complication. He looked up at his aunt's retreating back. It wasn't as if he didn't know what the old lady wanted. He was already berating himself for it. And yet as he walked, he found himself counting out the steps to the waltz.