Disclaimer – Jane Austen owns Mr. Darcy and ITV owns Amanda Price. I own the rights to Constance Darcy.

Chapter 2 - All Went Black

There is nothing like staying at home for real comfort. - Jane Austen

She stared at herself in the mirror. Tonight was not just a ball and she knew it in the back of her mind. It was her one chance to shine; to let others see a completely new, eligibly beautiful side of her. A side that she was not sure she even wanted to show. After all, it was the season and a midsummer ball was just the ticket to her security.

"Is this really me?" Constance thought as she turned her head slowly from side to side; trying to see every angle. Her reflection revealed a young woman about to embark on a journey. She had an indescribable feeling that something was going to happen but she did not know if it would be good or bad. Her intuition was rarely ever wrong and she chalked it up to being a woman.

A soft knock on the door broke her gaze with the mirror. Betsy opened the door; letting Elizabeth into the room. The maid curtsied and left the room, closing the door behind her. Constance stood up, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress. Her cream silk empire-waist dress was revealing and modest at the same time. The dress was quite simple lest for a pearl-beaded braid of silk around her waistline. The puffed sleeves were made from georgette; revealing her pale shoulders. Her reticule was made from the same braided trim and material as the dress.

"Are you ready yet?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes, I think so." Constance gave her reflection one last look. She opened her tin of Rigge's Liquid Bloom and swirled the rose salve upon her lips.

"You look beautiful," Elizabeth kissed her daughter on the forehead.

"Mother, are you crying?" Constance looked down uncomfortably.

"My daughter is all grown up," Elizabeth smiled behind tears.

"You act as though you shall never see me again!" Constance laughed, "It is only a ball. No man shall take me away from here that easily!"

Elizabeth shook her head, "I do not want you to leave us, but, in time you will have to and I shall miss you so much."

Constance blew a raspberry, "Mother, please. I haven't even left my room yet!"

Elizabeth laughed, "You look so grown up. It is bound to happen."

Constance groaned, "I don't want to grow up. Look what it has done to father. You'd think he was born that way."

Elizabeth took in a deep breath, "I used to feel the same. Your father is a man of few words but he loves you."

Constance made a face, "Yes, I know."

Elizabeth smiled, "One day, you will understand him."

Constance nodded, "I know mother."

Elizabeth opened the door and turned towards Constance, "Wait a few minutes and then walk down the stairs. I want you to have your grand entrance."

Constance sighed sagely, "Of course."

When three minutes had passed, Constance walked out of her room and took in a nervous breath as she descended the double staircase. Her mind kept on reminding her not to fall down and she held tightly onto the banister; a smile that she most certainly did not feel was plastered upon her features. People stood in circles throughout the ballroom as they caught up on the latest scandals and juicy gossip. Some men stood to the side; concerning themselves with their glass of champagne and the score of the latest cricket match. Latest everything. Latest gossip, latest sports news, latest fashion. Everyone was dressed to the nines. The entire room was a rainbow of color, full of dresses from various parts of England and France. These dresses swirled as their wearers danced the quadrille. The music was boisterous and lively. It made Constance smile brightly.

Constance felt a prickly sensation on the back of her neck and she turned around to see a young man watching her. He held his champagne glass in suspension as though he were about to take a sip but decided against it. He stared at her with parted lips as though he were surprised. Constance suddenly felt as though something was wrong and she passed by a mirror to make sure she did not have some oddity hanging off her nose. No, she looked perfectly fine and smiled in relief.

He was quite handsome. He had dark brown almost black hair and eyes that shined as he looked at her. Though she figured, his eyes were shining from the large chandelier that had the entire ballroom basking in the warm ambiance of candlelight. She looked back to find him still watching her with interest and a small smile crept upon her features as she thought, "Maybe I should not think about leaving this place after all."

The boy began to walk towards her when Caroline Bingley stood in front of him. "Constance," Caroline said through her smile, "pray, why are you not dancing?"

Constance smiled, "I have only just entered the room."

Caroline softly chuckled, "And you could not find a partner? Such a pity! What a waste of a lovely dress."

Constance smirked, "It is common practice to not dance while entering a room. But, I assume that you do not practice what is common … including sense."

Caroline's jaw dropped at Constance's insolence, "I shall speak to your father about your behavior. You should not speak to your elders in such a manner."

"Go on, Aunt Caroline, talk to my father and tell him what an abhorrent little girl I am." Constance snidely added, "If you want to admit how old you are."

"I see that this attitude of yours was not from your father's side."

"I see that your snobbery," Constance smirked, "has not gone out of style yet and the London Season hasn't even started yet."

Caroline turned red and it seemed that her neck would burst as she tried to hold in her anger. Suddenly, without warning, she slapped Constance across the face. Constance's head snapped to the side as hot tears of pain began to sting her eyes. The slap reverberated through the room, there was a sharp screech as the orchestra stopped playing the quadrille and many people stopped talking to see what the commotion was.

The boy walked towards Constance, "Are you -"

"I'm fine," Constance took a sharp breath in; trying to remain calm, but it was easy to tell that she was visibly shaken.

Elizabeth walked towards Caroline and through clenched teeth shouted, "How dare you strike my child!"

Darcy moved between Elizabeth and Caroline as if he were negotiating a peace treaty. "You know how rotten a girl she is, Elizabeth," Caroline called out.

"She is not rotten."

Caroline laughed, "Comme mère comme fille."

Those who knew French laughed at Elizabeth's expense. Elizabeth looked up at Darcy and noticed that he was furiously looking at Caroline. "Speak English, Caroline. You are not in France," Elizabeth boldly stated.

"Do you really want to know the translation?"

Darcy stood protectively beside Elizabeth. Caroline's eyes narrowed, "I said … like mother like daughter."

Elizabeth's mouth hung open and for a moment she thought of nothing else but how much she wanted to punch Caroline Bingley square in her bum face. Instead, she coolly looked at Caroline, "Then I suppose that the saying goes for you too and I can only assume the worst." Elizabeth bowed curtly and walked towards her daughter and a very attentive young man.

Constance was sitting in a chair, holding her hand to her hand to her face and staring at the ground. She had never been slapped across the face before, let alone publically. Embarrassment washed over her as the boy offered her a glass of punch, "Are you quite certain that you are well?"

Constance shook her head, "I shall be fine. I am more embarrassed, truth be told, than physically injured."

"Constance," Elizabeth sighed, "what did you say to Caroline to make her do such a thing?"

"It was my fault really," Constance kept her eyes down. "If I had not jested at her expense-"

"That still does not give her the right to strike you," Elizabeth vented. "If everyone were to slap those who teased them … well, your father would be in big trouble."

"Mother!"

Darcy's voice replied from behind his wife, "If it were proper decorum to slap those who had been slighted in the acutest form; I think that Elizabeth would have done so when we first met."

"Oh no sir," Elizabeth laughed. "I do not lift a finger to those who think me … what was it … barely tolerable."

Constance laughed heartily at her father's shocked features. He smiled awkwardly, "She will never let that go. Perhaps, I should have called her slightly tolerable."

"But, father," Constance said in amusement, "that's the same thing."

Darcy brought his eyes to Constance and suddenly, she wished that she had not spoken. "Constance, you do realize that this scene could have been averted. You could have just smiled and walked away."

Constance looked at her father in disbelief. How could he go from happy to cantankerous in one second? "I don't walk away from anything," Constance muttered lowly.

Elizabeth took her daughter's side. "Look, who slaps someone at a party … just for making fun of them. It's immature. If you want to kick someone out … kick Caroline out."

"If you do not wish to be sent to your room," Darcy sternly spoke; ignoring Elizabeth, "you will do what I say."

"You cannot punish me. Not until mother says so too," Constance looked over at Elizabeth.

Impatiently, Darcy stormed away and Constance was filled with guilt for having made her father angry with her. She looked at her mother and asked, "Do you think I should just go to my room?"

Elizabeth smiled softly, "Perhaps that is a better idea. You were not having fun anyway and I know that you hate these parties."

"I do," Constance looked down sheepishly. "Should I apologize to Aunt Caroline and try to smooth things over?"

Elizabeth's eyes flashed, "Not on your life."

Constance sighed, "Wouldn't it make everything better?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "No. It would make everything peaceful, but people would view you as weak. Be strong," Elizabeth kissed her daughter on the cheek, "go upstairs and let Caroline wallow in her self-pity."

Constance smiled at her mother as she turned towards the boy. Her breath caught in her chest as she looked upon him. She had spent her time loathing Caroline that she had not truly noticed how hazel the boy's eyes were and how he smiled when he spoke her name.

"Constance?"

Constance blushed, "I feel so ashamed now. For, you know my name and I have never heard yours."

"James Shelton," he bowed.

"Why is that we have not met previously," Constance asked.

"I am new to this area of England."

"Do you like Derbyshire?"

"I confess," Mr. Shelton made a face, "that I found it rather boring … until now."

"Good," Constance thought to herself, "I shall keep him on his toes then."

Constance smiled back at James, "I really must take my leave."

James looked surprised, "So soon? The party has not even begun."

Constance opened her mouth to speak, but, the voice of her father echoed behind her, "Constance, were you not to go to your room?"

Wishing that a trap door were beneath her, Constance found herself running away from the ballroom, tears of embarrassment rolling down her cheeks. She opened the French doors to the garden where her parents had once married some years ago. She stood by the threshold and found herself grow weary, as though she were being pulled forward by an unknown force and then, all went black.

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