A/N Thanks for reading and reviewing, I enjoy all your comments! )

Part 4- '….Waltzes of the heart…'

Lord Herington must have thought himself on the verge of making a considerable amount of money when he had agreed to allow his estate to be used as the primary location for the film's settings. He had reason, however, after seeing the complete overhaul of his grand house, the building of false walls in the rooms to tie in with correct period, and the continued comings and goings of the multitude of people, actors, technicians, and the rest, to think his thirty pieces of silver dearly bought.

The Herington estate, settled neatly within the foothills of the Pennine Hills, straddling the border between Scotland and England, was perfect to depict the scenes of Celia's family life and wealth. The grounds were ample and though the interior had needed some adjustment, it was vast and perfectly suited. Though the grounds may have proved to be perfect, affairs on the set were proving less harmonious.

It had only been a week since the Bennet ladies' arrival, and Harry had already been held back physically on several occasions to prevent him from strangling Mrs Bennet. She made a mockery of his authority, was obnoxious and rude to Darcy, encouraged Collins in his attentions to Lizzy, despite the latter's wishes to the contrary, and continually embarrassed Jane and Bingley with all her insinuations.

The daughters were not much better. Lydia and Kitty flirted with anyone that offered them more than a passing glance, and Mary took it upon herself to offer tips on self improvement to whichever poor soul had ventured too close.

They were a continuous source of embarrassment to Lizzy, whose anguish was clear to everyone except them; they ignored her hints, subtle and otherwise, to leave.

But at least during filming, on the sets they were safe; Harry had appointed burly security men for exactly that, with specific instructions to be on the lookout for the dreaded Bennet quartet!

It was after a particularly heavy day of filming, during which Darcy and Lizzy were finding it – as usual – difficult to get along, that Lizzy would gain yet another insight into his character.

Harry had just called 'cut' much to the relief of everyone, and as a frustrated Darcy made his way off the set, he was stopped suddenly in his tracks by what appeared to be an extra. He stared at the man who stood in his way. Lizzy was watching it all and saw him turn pale with anger, and the stranger became red. He spoke to Darcy, and Lizzy could not fathom if it was the words that were spoken or the sight of this stranger, but Darcy, with more than usual alacrity and common rudeness, turned on his heel and walked away, banging the door with frightening force as he went.

Lizzy was astounded, and was thinking of the incident with some curiosity, when she was joined by one of the men in question.

'Excuse me…' Lizzy turned to see a handsome, tall man smiling at her. 'I'm sorry; I just had to come and speak to you…my name is George Wickam.'

Lizzy smiled in return, and he took that as encouragement.

'The Framed rose is my favourite book, and well I just have to say…I think you're perfect…' Lizzy laughed, embarrassed.

He shuffled and smiled coyly at her, 'That is…I mean to say that you are exactly how I have pictured Celia…'

'Thank you…that's very kind of you…' Lizzy couldn't help but ask, the incident between this man and Darcy was to her so very peculiar, 'I hope you don't mind my asking…but I couldn't help but notice…you know my co-star…?'

Wickam seemed cautious in his reply. 'Darcy..? Yes I do…are i you /i much acquainted with his character..?'

Lizzy was quick to respond, 'No…no, that is to say, we are forced to spend a great deal of time together, but I am as much acquainted with his character as I could ever wish to be…'

Wickam nodded sympathetically. 'I am sorry to hear it…though I can't say I'm surprised; you see, I have known Darcy all my life…'

Lizzy's astonishment at these words must have spoken volumes.

'You are surprised, I know, Miss Bennet. You must have noted our less than warm address…?'

Lizzy reluctantly admitted she did; she did not wish to appear prying.

'We are not on friendly terms…Darcy and I…, but, Miss Bennet, that is far too long a story, though it's one I would gladly tell you, if you would join me for a drink…if that is not too forward of me…'

Lizzy blushed, 'No...I would be delighted…'

Less than an hour later Lizzy and Wickam were seated in the far corner of the local pub talking intently. Her glass was still practically full, his stories had her riveted; he could tell a tale with the most pleasing accuracy and with such animation that Lizzy was left with little attention for the drink.

She was fascinated, more so when he at last reached the subject which interested her most: Darcy.

'We grew up together. My father was an assistant to Darcy's. As children we would run around the theatre, play under the stage and everything else…'

'What happened between you two…?'

'Old man Darcy died and all his son's fears and insecurities came to the surface; you see, his father was very fond of me. So much so that he left me a significant sum of money and a share in the theatre. But Darcy refuted all that and I was left with nothing…it is the reason you see me this way now, Miss Bennet, on the verge of abject poverty and forced to take jobs as an extra.'

Lizzy could not believe what she was hearing. 'Why…why would he behave so cruelly…?'

'I can only think it was because of jealousy, that his father should love me, perhaps more than him…'

'But to act so viciously to a childhood friend as to leave you destitute…Why didn't you seek legal help…?'

Wickam sighed remorsefully. 'Because it would have inevitably turned into an ugly court battle, and I couldn't bear to bring the theatre into disrepute, and Miss Bennet, I loved and do still love the memory of his father too much to risk exposing his son…'

Lizzy smiled empathetically and thought him the noblest, most self-sacrificing creature in the world. Her thoughts returned again to Darcy. 'I never thought him as bad as this…and I wonder how he can so successfully trick his friend into believing in him so fully. Mr Bingley is his closest friend, and no fool…he is one of the kindest men I have ever met…I wonder, Mr Bingley can't know what he really is…'

'You forget Darcy is an actor, a highly skilled one at that, he may make Bingley or anyone else he wishes to believe what he chooses…'

Lizzy agreed, 'Yes of course, you are quite right…Do you know Mr Bingley?'

'A little. I have heard something of him…Darcy's publicist as well as his friend, I believe…' he smiled quietly, 'Bingley may prove to be one of those rare creatures to make an impression on our Darcy…' Lizzy's quizzical look pressed him to add more. 'I believe Darcy has him in mind as a potential husband for his sister Georgiana…'

Lizzy's thoughts at once flew to Jane; a potential rival could prove trouble for her heart. She did not think to question how Wickam could have come to know such information.

'And Bingley…what of his response…?'

'Well, I know that he is fond of her at least…'

It was easy to see Lizzy's interest was particularly piqued now. 'What is she like, Miss Darcy…?'

Wickam recalled thoughtfully, 'Very pretty. I wish I could say better, but I believe she has turned out too much like her brother, haughty and reserved…'

Lizzy stood staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her thoughts were indelibly fixed on the conversation of a few days ago with Wickam. Harry had given them the weekend break off filming, and Lizzy was more thankful for it than anyone could have imagined. Seeing Darcy again so soon, after all that she had heard about him, probably would have resulted in her slapping him again or worse. She had gone to stay with her family at her Aunt Philips' boarding house.

The only condition to the break had been that they attend a charity ball organised by Marcie, yet another publicity shot. It was the reason she was standing in front of the mirror, giving more attention to her dress and makeup than she had ever done before. She wore her hair down; the tousled locks she thought were her best feature cascaded about her shoulders and the thin straps of her bottle-green dress.

Lizzy had extended the invitation to Wickam; they were allowed to bring a guest and as it was already a given that all her family were already invited, she looked forward to seeing him there.

Of Darcy's behaviour towards Wickam she, at the latter's behest, had not breathed a word to another soul…except, of course, to Jane. She had been careful to leave out mention of Georgiana; it would have only caused needless worry. Everything else she related, and Jane's reaction showed her tendency to think the best of everyone. Jane was sure there had been some sort of mistake, it was all tragic error, and no one could be blamed.

Elizabeth strongly disagreed with her; there certainly was someone to blame…Darcy.

The dinner proved more of a torturous affair than Lizzy could ever have feared. She soon discerned Wickam was not among the crowds, and from then on any anticipation of enjoyment was entirely done away. He had assured her that he would come, in spite of Darcy, that he was not afraid of him and Darcy ought to be the one to leave if he wished to avoid him. Darcy was, of course, there, standing in the corner and as usual avoiding eye contact with everyone; the sight of him now provided Lizzy with added resentment.

She found her place, a table in the centre of the room, in clear view of everyone. The name card next to hers was to add to her despair: Fitzwilliam Darcy. There was no escaping him. Lizzy soon ascertained the whole thing to being Marcie's handiwork, who made a point of smiling and raising her glass to her. Lizzy forced a smile in return.

Thankfully, Darcy appeared to be in a more sullen mood than she, and aside from a few comments in the beginning on the starter and the excellent wine, said precious little thereafter. The various speakers on the charity were listened to in silence and Lizzy thought she could breathe a sigh of relief when it seemed Darcy would leave without speaking to her at all; she would have found it hard to keep a civil voice in her head.

He got up after the speeches, and Lizzy was likewise considering leaving when Darcy returned and addressed her. 'Miss Bennet…as the band has started up, I wonder…I do not claim to be much of a dancer, but I have been told I'm very good at the waltz…'

His application was so sudden that she found it hard to reply. He repeated his request, holding out his hand, 'Miss Bennet would you do me the honour of dancing with me…?'

A turn of her head and she spied Marcie, staring wide-eyed at her and, it appeared, mouthing words of encouragement; it was impossible for Lizzy to answer otherwise.

'Thank you…yes' and placing a cool hand in his, she allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The space was empty; by all appearances they looked like the handsome young couple setting an example. They were soon joined by other couples.

He held her close, her hand rested on his shoulder, their heads almost touching whilst his arm encircled her waist. Marcie was delighted; publicity like this could not be bought, and she was soon directing photographers towards the film star couple dancing intimately.

Darcy had no wish to speak; this was too delicious, holding Lizzy as close as this, his lips almost caressing her ear, feeling her warm breath in the nape of his neck. The soft rise and fall of her chest, pressed next to his…he breathed it all in deeply and, closing his eyes, swayed her gently in time to the softly playing music.

Darcy may have been enjoying the relative silence between them, but Lizzy saw it as too much of an opportunity to miss, she could not resist. 'We are a temperamental lot…' she began, 'we actors, are we not, Mr Darcy…would you agree…?'

He looked at her curiously. 'Perhaps…'

Lizzy smiled, '…quick-tempered…and with our fair share of melodramatic prejudices and a taste for developing resentments…'

'I would not like to confess to such failings in a character…'

'Do you consider them failings…?' Lizzy looked at him intently.

He was unnerved by her frankness. 'Irrational prejudice, anger and implacable resentment…yes of course…'

'Perhaps it is precisely because we are actors. Our emotions are always called upon to be entirely on the surface…Would you consider that to be a viable excuse, if one were to behave unfairly…'

She had a curious tone in her voice Darcy did not like. He grew suspicious. 'Miss Bennet may I ask to what these questions tend…'

She tried vainly to reassure him, and laughed lightly, 'I am only trying to make out your character, Mr Darcy…'

'You have had the best part of six months. I would never have thought myself to be so complex…our time together has given you little opportunity for success?'

'It is confusing, I hear such different accounts of you, from such varied sources that…I do not know which to believe…'

Darcy's voice took on its own gravity now. 'I can readily believe it, Miss Bennet, and I would not wish to influence your decision. Choose whatever source you wish, it makes little difference to me either way…'

'A thoroughly admirable detachment, Mr Darcy…'

They descended once more into silence, until he began again, 'How was your weekend…?'

She sighed tiredly, and endeavoured to answer him with some semblance of patience. 'Uneventful, but a welcome rest nonetheless.' She smiled slyly, 'I did, however, have the pleasure of making a new acquaintance…' She looked forward to seeing his reaction when she announced Wickam's name, but he proved to have prior knowledge of the affair.

'You mean, of course, George Wickam….' He met her astounded gaze, 'You work on a small set, Miss Bennet, and gossip is a part of daily life…'

'Yes, Mr Wickam…' she was mortified that the crew had been talking about her.

'I do not doubt that he is one of the sources you mentioned…'

'Yes…' Lizzy regained her courage, 'his tale in relation to you was highly interesting…'

Just then the band finished their number and Lizzy gladly unwrapped herself from him. He looked at her closely. If he was about to say something, Lizzy did not wish to hear it, and she began to walk away. She thought she had safely made her escape, when a hand suddenly seized her tightly above the wrist.

Darcy had followed her, and now pulled her arm with such force that she twirled right back into his arms again! At that precise moment, the band started up with a series of dramatic sultry chords, perfectly timed. She later wondered if Darcy had given them a signal and planned the whole thing.

He held her tight, forcefully pressing her close; one hand still held her arm tightly, whilst the other he placed in the small of her back. Lizzy shivered involuntarily as he slid his knee between her inner thigh and nudged her legs further apart to adjust her stance. She could only stare at him, amazed, as he brought her face close to his and began the first steps to the tango.

It was clear from his expression he was angry and intended to make sure she knew it; the other couples had meanwhile stepped back and formed a ring around them, thinking they were about to be treated to an impromptu display of dance.

Darcy lips brushed her cheek as he hissed at her, 'Now let us be clear, Miss Bennet, I care little enough for your opinion of me and even less for that of your friend George Wickam…'

He quickened his pace at these words and before Lizzy could respond, swivelled her right around and leaning forward, pushed her back and then pulled her forward in a dazzling series of steps all in time to the music. Darcy suddenly dipped her low; her back arched and her long hair almost touched the floor before he snapped her back up again.

'You will find this out soon enough: Mr Wickam is blessed with those engaging manners and happy conduct as to guarantee him friends wherever he goes…'

Again he twirled her out of his arms, before catching her by the hand and pulling her back so close that their lips almost touched, '…but his ability to keep them is less certain..'

Lizzy grew breathless; she was not used to dancing like this. She felt herself being lowered into yet another dip, with his hand at the base of her spine supporting her, but this time as he brought her back up Lizzy seized her chance to speak.

'And wretched indeed is the soul that is as unfortunate as to lose the friendship of Mr Darcy, for it is likely to be an affliction they suffer from for the rest of their lives, as Mr Wickam has found to his cost…'

At this Darcy merely huffed and Lizzy was convinced she had silenced him. A strange feeling arrested her…could it be that she was enjoying this? Darcy danced so well, but the thought of praising this man seemed to betray her friendship with Wickam.

Another swing of the arms and Lizzy was propelled outwards, twirling prettily as she went. Fully expecting Darcy to catch and pull her back again, she stopped dead in her tracks when nothing happened…Darcy was not there to catch her.

In fact, she found to her horror he was not even on the dance floor, but instead she saw him making his way through the crowd and towards the doors without once looking back!

He was leaving…leaving her halfway through a dance…and with the crowds still looking on. Lizzy, humiliated and shocked, could only stare after him, mouth agape…and thanks to Marcie; dozens of photographers were there to capture it all.

Poor Lizzy…amidst the sympathetic looks and what seemed hundreds of flashing bulbs of cameras, she felt a deep blush creeping up her neck and spreading over her face. Though she would never admit it…she had begun to enjoy herself.