The story rating is changing. I'm putting it up to Teen, but it could possibly go up from there. The reason for this is a topic I plan to bring up later. I will put a warning in of what that topic is, and I will try to write it so it can be skipped if it offends you. No violence or sexual content, though.
Elizabeth flittered from room to room, dividing her time between avoiding Collins and Darcy, and searching for Wickham. She had little success with either venture. After managing to escape Darcy, she nearly walked into Collins. He proceeded to follow her around like a lost puppy until the music began and he could claim his dances.
While being led to these unfortunate dances, Elizabeth looked around her desperately in hope of salvation. Instead, she met Darcy's eye. She turned hers away quickly, but she felt his remain on her the entire time, refusing to lose her among the crowd.
The dance began, a lively Scottish reel, and Elizabeth continued her search for Wickham, but her eyes only ever seemed to meet with Darcy. With each turn of the dance, he seemed in a different place, and her eyes found him every time without fail. She was almost thankful when Collins began to speak with her, distracting her from those piercing green eyes.
"I am not fond of dancing as a rule, but I feel that every man of the church should exhibit an effort in my types of things. I am always searching for a chance to improve myself in acts such as this. As my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh would say…" Elizabeth stopped listening at the mention of Lady Catherine. She knew he would continue on that vein for a while, and she would not be required as a participant.
Elizabeth examined the crowd again, and this time her scrutiny was rewarded. She caught Wickham's eye and he winked at her, causing a blush to spread along her face. Darcy watched this exchange, his mind reeling with anger.
Who does that man think he is? How could he act so in public? And more importantly, why did Elizabeth blush? She was embarrassed by his conduct certainly.
Or she blushed happily at his flirtation.
Why must you ruin my every pleasant thought?
I am just speaking the truth, and judging from the way Elizabeth is looking at Wickham, I think it is safe to say she isn't embarrassed the least bit.
Damn him.
It's not his fault. She just doesn't like us.
Even if she doesn't love me, it doesn't mean I can't hate that man for flirting with her.
But you can stop being so obvious about it, and stop glaring at him!
I hate him.
"Darcy?" He turned around to see Bingley standing behind him. Reluctantly he turned his back on Elizabeth. Bingley led him away from the crowd and to a more secluded spot. "Are you well." Darcy nodded, but it was more of a reflex than an answer. Already he was scanning the crowd for Elizabeth and Wickham.
"Darcy," Bingley started again, but paused. Darcy gave his full attention to his friend. "I know you may not like him, but would you please stop glaring at Mr. Wickham, just until the ball is over. People are starting to notice, and I heard a group of militia discussing how long it would take before you challenged him to a duel." Darcy donned a thoughtful expression that immediately sent warning bells off in Bingley's head. "And you will not challenge him." Darcy continued to look thoughtful and Bingley grew nervous. As Darcy remained silent, Bingley was forced to try another way of extracting the promise out of him. "Until tomorrow, try to be civil. At the very least, don't challenge him to a duel in my house." Darcy finally relented, but only to the last order. He could promise none of the others.
Darcy heard the final notes of the dance, and ran from the corner where his conference with Bingley had taken place. Bingley allowed him to go, happy in the knowledge that everything was prepared for their departure early tomorrow.
Darcy scanned the crowd, his stature allowing him a better view than most others. His desperation mounted until at last he spotted the chocolate brown curls that he knew to be hers. His general presence allowed him ease of access through the mob of people, and he quickly arrived at her side.
"Miss Elizabeth." She stopped and closed her eyes, willing that the voice was all a bad dream. Squaring her shoulders, she turned and opened her eyes, but the nightmare had turned reality and he stood before her, expectant. "Might I have this dance?"
"I—well you see—I-," Elizabeth swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and at length she managed a coherent sentence. "I did not plan on dancing this set." She breathed a quiet sigh of relief, but it was lost upon him.
"Perhaps the next then?" Elizabeth just nodded, surrendering. Darcy did not move after securing her acceptance, so Elizabeth was forced to bolt, after giving him a polite curtsy. After escaping Collins as well, Elizabeth found herself out on the terrace, miserable. A stray tear trailed down her cheek. She jumped as she felt the tear being brushed away.
Spinning around, she nearly collided with Wickham, armed with a handkerchief. "Mr. Wickham!" He chuckled, but checked it quickly, seeing the emotion on her face.
"Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?" She turned back to the view of the Netherfield gardens with a sigh.
"I am not ill, but neither am I well." Her hand grew warm unexpectedly. Her eyes shot to it in time to see Wickham turning it over in his hand, until their fingers intertwined. Her heart rate sped up and she had to turn her head to hide the color that ran to her cheeks.
"What is troubling you?" Elizabeth thought of telling him everything, even things she had not told Jane, but she remembered that he was still a stranger and she knew very little of him.
"It's nothing. I'm just tired, that's all. Perhaps I shouldn't have come tonight." Wickham looked at her strangely, but he seemed to accept her excuse.
"That would have been a great loss." The music began in the background, but neither moved. The song continued and Wickham leaned his back on the railing, and watched the dancers. After another ten minutes of comfortable silence, Wickham turned back to her.
"Perhaps you will oblige me with the next set, Miss Elizabeth?" Elizabeth looked him in the eye as he began to speak, but turned away again as he finished. Now she wished more than ever that she had not promised Darcy the next dance.
"I would love to, but I am afraid that I already have a partner for that dance." Wickham just smiled, not put off in the slightest.
"Then the next perhaps? I am not surprised that woman of your beauty should have other men vying to dance with you. I am surprised that your card is not full. What a crime it is for you to have to sit out a dance." Elizabeth blushed again.
"For some it would be, but I would rather have only one dance with someone I like than a whole night of dancing with men I can't stand." Wickham let out a throaty laugh.
"A very excellent attitude. Not many women feel that way, or at least, if they do, they don't say it." Elizabeth agreed, and the conversation went on in this way, until the music signified the start of the next set.
"I am afraid I must find my partner for this dance." Wickham bowed to her, and Elizabeth stepped back through the doors, where she was immediately accosted by Darcy. Unbeknownst to her, Darcy had watched her go outside and waited to see when she would come back out. Fortunately he did not see Mr. Wickham go out there as well, or he might have broken his promise to Bingley.
"This is our dance, Miss Elizabeth." She sighed.
"So it is." She took his proffered hand and allowed herself to be led to the dance floor. Turning her head around, for one last look behind her, she saw Wickham glaring at Darcy's back and a hurt expression in his eyes as he looked at her. She grimaced at Darcy, sending him a silent message. Wickham smirked, and walked back out to the terrace. Elizabeth too adopted a smile, happy she could clear up that misunderstanding.