Chapter 4 – Getting to Know You

The moment Eliza stepped out of Tom's Mercedes and saw Bingley's happy, smiling, and completely harmless face, she heavily regretted what she had said to her sister. Jane deserved to be happy, and if Bingley couldn't make her so than no one could. She decided then and there that Bingley deserved her sister, as no one had ever deserved her before. She felt awful.

Tom tried to entwine her arm with his as they walked up the steps to Bingley's front door, but Eliza subtly shook him off and smiled at Bingley.

"Eliza! It's so good to see you!" he said warmly, even though it had been only two days since they last saw each other.

She laughed; every word he said was confirming his worthiness.

"And you, too, Charles," she said. Her smile faltered slightly as she stepped aside so that Tom could come forward and shake Charles' hand.

"Charles Bingley, this is my father's summer intern from Yale, Tom Collins," she said, careful to say nothing about how she felt about Tom; either good or bad.

"What a wonderful house you have, Charles!" Tom immediately began to gush. Eliza began to edge toward the door while poor Charles listened to Tom's raptures – "The Lady Catherine would adore these windows!" – and finally made her way into the house without being noticed. The front hall was very impressive for a beach home, with dark wood floors, and elegant grand staircase, and a sparkling chandelier.

"Oh, my dear Eliza!"

Eliza grimaced as she heard Caroline Bingley's voice calling to her. She turned to her left to see Caroline standing by the only door on the left wall, her skinny frame clasped tightly into a long, black dress. Eliza forced a smile and walked to her.

"I'm so glad you come… but where are all your family?" Caroline asked, her ample lips puckered in a haughty pout.

"They'll be here soon," Eliza told her, still smiling.

"Excellent. Your sister! What a doll, I don't know what I would do all the way out here without her!"

Eliza's face was beginning to hurt, but she continued smiling.

"Yes, isn't she?" she said, but someone else claimed Caroline's attention, and she was finally free to walk inside.

Eliza had to gasp in shock the moment she entered; it really was a ballroom. Set down a few steps, the enormous, high-ceilinged room had a creamy, white marble floor and another glittering chandelier. A veranda of sorts stretched around the room; the wall opposite her consisted of full-length windows that extended the whole length of the wall. Many people were already at the party, standing or sitting along the veranda chatting and drinking. She caught sight of Charlotte and hurried over.

"Can you believe this place?" she said to Charlotte, her mouth still agape.

"Isn't it incredible? Look at the orchestra!" Charlotte squealed.

A twenty-piece orchestra was set up on a raised platform at the end of the room, softly playing in the background.

"Wow," she breathed. "Wait until Jane sees this."

Stop it. Stop looking at the door. Who cares who comes to this party? There's no one here worth my attention… not yet, anyway. No, stop it!

William had been fighting with himself all day, and he knew he must have looked rather crazed standing in a corner by himself, staring hard at the floor. But he had to stare at the floor to keep himself from staring at the door, which had been doing nonstop since the party started.

Eliza Bennet's laughter had been ringing in his ears ever since the last party, and he hated how much it was distressing him. He had thought that "casually" passing her and her sister on the beach with Bingley would disenchant him; he would hear her speak some more, prove to himself that she really wasn't worth another thought, and that would be that. But although she had never spoken to him directly, she had spoken. And she had been intelligent and witty… and she had laughed, and her laughter had been even more wonderful the more he heard it. So now he was at Bingley's party, and any moment she would walk through that door… but, he kept reminding himself, he was in no real danger. For heaven's sake, she lived on Long Island! His family had been land-owning, title-holding, proper Englishmen for centuries, and he would rather die than disgrace his family. Exactly. She would be a disgrace… a disgrace… a disgrace…

With that calming thought, he finally looked up from the floor. What a mistake. His stomach flipped right over itself as he watched Elizabeth come through the door in long, satin lilac dress. No mind that she looked hassled and irritated; in fact, she looked even more beautiful that way.

No! Stop it! He shook his head forcefully, which cleared his senses enough that he nearly scampered away when he saw Elizabeth walking in his direction. If he stayed away from her, this silly thing would pass and life would go back to normal.

William spent most of the party trying desperately to keep his mind occupied, but no matter how many times he danced with Caroline or how many nonsensically boring people he met, his eyes somehow always seemed to find her. When the orchestra had first begun playing, he watched as the horribly disproportioned young man who had been hovering constantly by Elizabeth's side swept her onto the dance floor without even letting her set down her drink. He watched in dismay as the man began to do a sort of jig which he must have thought was a waltz, while Elizabeth looked torn between fury and humiliation.

That man doesn't deserve to even stand up with her!

Halfway into their third dance, Darcy was beginning to feel entranced with the man's flailing limbs when Elizabeth abruptly turned away from him and left the floor. He hurried after her, leaving a path of toppled dancers in his path. Elizabeth had gone straight to the bar, obviously trying to shake him off, but it was no use. William felt an insane urge to run over and save her, but checked himself. It would be almost as much punishment for him to dance with her as it had been for her to dance with the clumsy young man. His usual calm, sensible mind was slowly winning over his attraction to Eliza. Yes, she was nice to look at, and yes, her laughter did strange things to his insides, but what of it? His life was going just the way he wanted it to, and the thought of even having a fling with someone like Eliza would be something he would regret for the rest of his life.

"Who knew entertaining the village folk would be so easy?" a dull voice said at his elbow. Caroline draped an arm over his shoulders and laughed at her own brilliant wit. William made no answer.

"I mean, any small amount of quality seems to amuse them greatly!" she went on. She motioned toward the buffet, where many people were crowded. The bar was also swarming, and those on the dance floor were clearly having a jolly good time. William finally laughed, albeit dryly and without amusement.

"Yes, Caroline, you seem to have a knack for entertaining the rustics," he said.

She laughed as if he had told a great joke. "Yes, I do, don't I? But what about you, William? You seem so bored. What can I do to amuse you?"

But William's eyes had just caught Elizabeth again, who was looking distraught, and it was easy to see why: the young man was chattering nonstop to her.

"On the contrary, I haven't been bored at all," he said, suddenly wishing desperately that Elizabeth were next to him and not Caroline.

"Oh really?" Caroline said, not so subtly adjusting her dress as she pressed up against him. "Well, we haven't danced in nearly a half hour…" she trailed off hopefully.

But William's mind was far from dancing with Caroline. Instead, the sensible part of his brain just hatched a brilliant plan. Caroline lusted after him but didn't actually love him. So all he had to do was prove that his… feelings, if you could call them that… for Elizabeth were merely lust, and nothing more serious. If he would be proved wrong, then he was in serious trouble, but he highly doubted that. He was a man, a young man, and it was perfectly natural to find a girl's features appealing. Right?

It was time for William to save a damsel in distress.

The very moment Jane had entered the room, Eliza had bounded over to her, leaving Tom in the dust, and apologized profusely. Jane, of course, was understanding and insisted that it was all her fault. Eliza wanted to stay and talk a little longer, if only to stay away from Tom as long as possible, but soon the Bingley vultures had descended, and she was forced to leave. She tried to stay close to Charlotte whenever she could, be Charlotte was constantly being dragged away by her father to be introduced, which left Eliza to stand with Tom, whose voice she could tune out pretty well, but she knew others around them probably could not.

She had been on her second martini when the orchestra started up; Tom, excited beyond all reason, had grabbed her hand and dragged her onto the dance floor, martini and all. But she clutched onto it tight, because the moment Tom began to move, she felt she would need a whole pitcher of vodka in order to not die on the spot. It was worse than anything she had every imagined. He had grabbed her by the waist with both hands and began twirling in her circles, not bothering to notice who they crashed into or whose feet he stepped on (mostly hers). She had finally put her hands gingerly on his shoulders, when he grabbed her hands instead and began trying to do an odd turn/twist movement. It was horribly awkward – not to mention painful – but no matter what she said he would not stop. Three dances in, she had given up all resistance and had taken to just standing still while Tom danced around her. Unfortunately, she looked up from the dance floor to see William Darcy looking at her with a mixture of alarm and discomfiture on his face. For whatever reason, this made her feel mortified almost to tears and without saying a word to Tom, she turned and walked quickly off the floor, praying to God that he wouldn't follow. She went straight to the bar.

"Elizabeth, are you feeling alright?"

Eliza groaned audibly as Tom skidded to a stop beside her.

"I was just feeling a little dizzy," she said; well, it was the truth.

"Perhaps you should have some water," Tom said, and frantically began to try and get the bartender's attention.

Eliza collapsed on a bench nearby, wanting nothing more than to just sit there until she died, which was bound to be soon. She saw Bingley and Jane on the dance floor, waltzing away happily, and felt sick as Tom came back to her with a water. She mumbled her thanks, but the moment he sat down next to her and began talking again, she stood up and began to walk away. He followed, of course, talking nonstop about the music, and whether Lady Catherine would approve. She was doing nothing to conceal her misery, and was sure she looked positively awful to anyone passing by.

"You know, Elizabeth, we really should go dance again. You move so wonderfully!" Tom was saying.

"As do you, sir, but I was wondering if I could steal Miss Bennet away for a moment."

Finally! Elizabeth thought as her heart leapt for joy. A savior! She turned to the speaker with a broad smile on her face.

It faltered upon seeing who exactly her savior was.

Oh no.

The shock on Elizabeth's face made William's cheeks burn, and he had to remind himself as forcefully as he could that it was all for a good cause: his peace of mind.

Her shock, however, was soon overpowered by what was undoubtedly relief; she smiled graciously and took his arm, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor. The orchestra struck up a slow waltz as he placed one hand on the small of her back and the other in her awaiting palm. A tremor of excitement ran up and down his spine at her touch, but he did not dwell on the feeling. Physical, he reminded himself, purely physical.

They had twirled around a few times before Elizabeth cocked her head to one side, opening her mouth to speak. No! he thought desperately. He hadn't wanted to talk… talking wasn't just physical!

"Well, I'm surprised at you, Mr. Darcy," she began with a slow, ever growing smile. "You're an excellent dancer… I suppose it's lucky the orchestra didn't bring their synthesizer with them."

He paused; what was that supposed to mean? And then, very suddenly, he remembered: "She's alright, I suppose, but certainly not enough to tempt me to dance to anything that involves a synthesizer."

"Perhaps without one, I can hope to live up to your expectations," she said, her smile becoming a grin.

He grimaced and looked down, properly ashamed; although he had to admit, he had meant it at the time.

"If I have ever said anything to upset you, Elizabeth, I am truly sorry," he said politely.

She laughed, and his stomach flipped for the millionth time that evening.

"No you're not," she said with a teasing smile, her eyes laughing as well. "But since you have just saved me from a certain and painful death," she went on, looking over to where the horrible young man stood, "I suppose I can forgive you."

"You are too kind, Elizabeth," he said wryly, also looking over, where the young man was leaning so far over the banister, staring avidly at them, that he was in danger of falling over.

She smiled again and looked back at him. He wasn't sure what to think; on one hand, he was still appalled at her manners, but on the other, he found her honesty refreshing. He smiled as well as he caught a glimpse of Caroline seething by the buffet line.

"It's Eliza," she said.

He blinked and took his eyes away from Caroline.

"I… pardon?" he stammered; instead of flipping, his stomach seemed to be inflating like a balloon.

"Call me Eliza," she repeated. "Elizabeth is so dull and proper, don't you think?"

He smiled again… he had never smiled so much in someone's company besides his sister. His purpose collapsed then and there. His heart began to race; what now? he thought desperately. Was he doomed to think of her and her laughter all the time? She smiled brightly back at him, but her eyes were glittering mischievously.

"What?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She paused, seeming to evaluate him. "Would you mind dancing the next one with me?" she asked. "Perhaps if I'm lucky, Tom will find someone else to idolize for the next five minutes."

At the moment, Will felt like he would have danced with her all night, even if she only wanted to so as to get away from someone else. But it probably wasn't wise to tell her this.

"Tom?" he asked instead.

She made a face and nodded her head in overzealous young man's direction.

"Ah," he said, but noticing her questioning yet hopeful look, he realized he hadn't yet answered her question.

"I'd love to dance with you again."

Eliza was very surprised that Darcy had agreed to dance with her again; she had thought he would politely decline, then run away before he could embarrass himself any more. But then, she was still surprised that he had asked her to dance at all… he was puzzling her exceedingly. He wasn't being friendly so much as he was just being courteous. She was still noticing him grimace ever so slightly whenever one of her neighbors waltzed – not very well – past them. And although he smiled every so often, it barely reached his forest green eyes, which remained proud and distant. The worst was his eyebrows, which remained arched in condescension no matter what he did with the rest of his face. Although she felt a bit of gratitude toward him for saving her from Tom, she continued to dislike him greatly. She knew she was being rather short with him, but the only way she knew how to deal with aloof, haughty people was to be honest with them, which, in their eyes, equated with rudeness. But he didn't seem as angry with her as most rich snobs would be… in fact, his face betrayed no emotion of any kind. He must be excellent at poker, she thought.

They waltzed in silence; Darcy seemed content, but Eliza was restless. He was like a riddle she was trying to figure out… and Eliza loved riddles.

"Amazing weather we're having," she began, trying not to smile. He looked surprised at the abrupt change into conversation, and merely nodded.

They twirled a few more times before she grinned at him.

"Well?" she said. "Your turn."

"My turn for what?" he replied in his deep, slow British accent.

"I commented on the weather. It is now your turn to comment on something harmless and uninteresting… like the number of people dancing," she suggested.

He smiled. "I didn't know dancing also involved small talk," he said.

"What, don't people have conversations in London?" she asked, still grinning.

"Yes, but usually in circumstances where the participants are standing still," he said, beginning to smile as well. He spoke in an even, confident voice… did all Oxford graduates speak with such elaborate language? she wondered. Bingley certainly didn't speak so formally all the time. No wonder no one likes him, she thought. One sentence took an hour for him to say.

"Ah, I see," she said. "How very boring," she mused, subtly mocking his proper British accent.

But to her great astonishment, he laughed, and despite her dislike, she found that she did like his laugh quite a lot. It was the only thing about him that seemed human; it was deep and warm… she wondered who ever got to hear it, and whether she should count herself lucky to be one of only a few. She had a feeling he did not laugh often.

"Well," he said, his laugh dying down but a smile settling on his face, "the English are very set in their ways."

"Yes… but perhaps that's a good thing," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his smile fading.

"When I was five, and we moved here, there were no houses on the beach. There was just sand for miles and miles… and now there are houses and businesses all over the place. Sometimes I wish America would just stop… growing so much." She sighed. "We'll regret it one day, when we have no trees or natural land left."

He pondered her for a moment, and then he said, "Have you ever been to England?"

She sighed again, and shook her head. "No, but I would like to very much. I had hoped to study abroad while in college, but it was just too expensive," she said, watching his reaction. But of course, he seemed to have none… she had at least suspected some trace of incredulity that anything could ever be too expensive, but he had regained his unreadable, blank expression.

"You should," he simply said. "I think you would like it."

For a moment she felt indignant that he would presume to know anything about what she liked, but it faded quickly, because she knew what he said was true.

"Where do you live in England?" she asked.

"Derbyshire," he answered. "Technically, that is. My family's estate is there, but when I graduate, I'll work mostly in London."

"What are you studying?" was her next question; now that they had a conversation, she wanted to keep it going.

"Law," he replied; although he was answering all her questions, his voice remained aloof… she hardly felt like she was getting to know him at all. "But I studied art at Oxford, much to my family's chagrin."

Her expression brightened at this. "Really? I'm minoring in art," she told him.

He smiled lightly, and for a brief moment she saw it reflect in his eyes. It left as quickly as it had come. He opened his mouth to reply, but just then the song ended; out of nowhere, Caroline Bingley came slithering up to Darcy. Not wanting to have to talk to that abomination, she gave her thanks to Darcy and walked away… she didn't notice that his face, usually so calm, was now almost twisted in desperation.

"What a charming couple you two make!" exclaimed Caroline the moment Eliza had walked away. William's heart had plummeted when the song ended; he had enjoyed their dances far more than he had ever intended to, but it wasn't often that he got to speak with an honest, intelligent woman. Caroline was always pouring compliments and sexual innuendoes on him, and the girls at school either only saw his money or his looks when they talked to him. He hated watching Eliza walk away, and so he shook his head slightly at Caroline and began to walk away as well.

Caroline, however, was not to be deterred. "I say, Darcy, I had no idea you had such a fondness for the natives!" she said with a shrill laugh. "They'll be talking about it for weeks! Indeed, they've barely gotten over your last appearance in the neighborhood!"

He looked at her sharply. "What do you mean, Caroline?"

"I overheard that abominable Mrs. Bennet and a few others saying how much they still dislike you after something you said to Miss Eliza over there at the last party!" She laughed again. "Making amends, were you Darcy?"

William looked over to where Eliza now stood, looking bored next to Tom. He couldn't care less whether everybody else hated him, but did she? She noticed him looking and smiled lightly, rolling her eyes at Tom and pretending to choke herself. He laughed again… she certainly hadn't seemed like she had hated him, but he had noticed her subtle jabs at his haughtiness. Had he been haughty? He was inclined to say no, but then, who was he to judge? He had never been in the company of people like this before… people who couldn't even afford to go to Europe.

"Yes, that's exactly it, Caroline," he finally answered.

What did it matter what Eliza thought anyway? He had enjoyed her company, but he reminded himself that he would be leaving in two weeks, and then he would forget her entirely. Whatever he was feeling, it would pass, and he suddenly couldn't wait to be in an Eliza-free place. He turned and smiled at Caroline.

"Would you care to dance?"

The Bennets left the party very satisfied, indeed. Bingley had barely danced with anyone besides Jane, who was trying very hard to not appear as giddy as she really was. A few minutes were spent dwelling on why in the world Darcy had asked Eliza to dance, but the excitement over Bingley was just too much to talk about anything else.

"Oh, Lizzie, he's so wonderful," Jane was gushing later as they climbed into bed. She hadn't stopped smiling since they came home, and now Eliza was beginning to smile as well, for no apparent reason.

"You may have found the one, Jane!" Eliza teased. Jane giggled, rolling onto her side so that they were face to face.

"What if he is, Lizzie?" she said a few moments later, much more sober. "How will I know?"

Eliza shrugged. "I have no idea," she said with a smile. "But I think you'll know."

Jane smiled and rolled back onto her back, flicking off the light.

"Good night, Lizzie."

"Good night, Jane," Eliza replied; when she fell asleep, though, a deep, warm laugh echoed in her dreams.