A/N: I hope you are enjoying my little story so far! While I've been writing JAFF for some time, I am completely new to posting on this lovely site...and new to the formatting, as well! Here's hoping I'm getting the kinks out. And now on to more important things: Elizabeth and Darcy, at the ball...

Chapter 3: Elizabeth

Mr. Darcy stopped speaking immediately, his face slowly regained its normal, haughty appearance. But now Elizabeth knew better. He was hiding something—hiding his emotions. But what had he intended to say?!

Before either could answer, however, Mrs. Long turned to face Mr. Darcy and asked what time it was. "I cannot see a clock, can you, Mrs. Cooper? Mr. Abernathy has nearly fallen off his chair, and we should take him home, you see," she explained to Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth.

"I daresay I cannot see a clock, but it is late, very late!" Mrs. Cooper said.

"This is why we discussed the candles, you see," said Mrs. Long. She pushed her cap up out of her eyes. "Because we cannot stay up till dawn, as you young folk do. And there is going to be snow tonight, we fear."

"Yes, we worry about the roads."

"And the horses."

"And the candles."

Mr. Darcy nodded at the women, his face ten thousand times more kind than when he listened to Mr. Collins. He did not look at Elizabeth now, and any trace of…of secrets or a private world between them…was erased.

"It is close to ten o'clock, I believe," Mr. Darcy said. "May I assist you? Should I call for your carriage?"

It was the elder ladies' turn to blush, and Elizabeth felt horrible for them. She knew they did not own a carriage, but had accepted a ride with a neighbor. She opened her mouth—but what to say? How could she lessen Mrs. Long and Mrs. Cooper's embarrassment, and end this conversation?

And then Mr. Darcy surprised her, again. "I just realized: I am a guest here at Netherfield. I had planned on returning to London on the morrow." He paused and glanced at Elizabeth, his blue eyes dark and inscrutable. "But if the weather is to be as bad as you say—and I trust you both know of which you speak—then I believe I will remain at Netherfield for a few more days, at least. I wonder if I could ask for your assistance?"

"Well certainly," said Mrs. Cooper. "But how can we help you, Mr. Darcy?"

Mr. Darcy leaned forward slightly on his seat. "I had my carriage and horses readied for the journey to London tomorrow. As such, I haven't exercised my mares—they're young, and need to run. I'd kept them mainly indoors today, so that they would be fresh for our travels. But if we might be snowbound for a few days, they need to run. Would you mind terribly, if I lent you my carriage to take you home? It's too late for a groom to ride them, but putting them to work to take you to Meryton and back would be the perfect solution."

Elizabeth watched in awe as both women's acute embarrassment turned to pride. He continued to flatter them gently as they readily agreed.

"I am in your debt," he said formally. "Both for the news of impending snow, and for helping me with my horses."

Mrs. Long blushed and smiled, pretty lines radiating from the corners of her eyes. "We are but simple country women, Sir. But when the farmers and the field hands say bad weather is coming, we know enough to believe them!"

Mr. Darcy nodded and Elizabeth watched in awe as the women simply melted in front of him. Who is this man? she wondered. After his prideful behavior at the Meryton assembly and Sir William's gathering at Lucas Lodge, all of her neighbors had felt Mr. Darcy, though rich, was too proud and haughty. And Elizabeth herself had assisted in spreading this notion, she realized. She had told her sisters and Charlotte about his cutting remarks.

And, of course, her mother had told the rest of the world.

But now… Mr. Darcy glanced up at her, and it appeared his blue eyes were…twinkling. He smiled, a small little secret just for her. What was he saying, with that look?

Elizabeth realized she was gaping at him like a caught fish. She closed her mouth and turned to look across the ballroom. But she could not stop listening to Mr. Darcy's every word.

"I respect country folk. Truth be told, while I have a house in London, my true home is in Derbyshire. I feel far more at home in the country than in the city."

"Why, I've an uncle that far north! It's lovely country," Mrs. Cooper said.

"Very nice, quite lovely," said Mrs. Long. "A good lad, then, you are."

Mr. Darcy smiled gently. How had she found herself staring at his face again? And how was she now smiling back at him?

No, she reminded herself. Do not stare at him so. He is rude and haughty and him being kind to two elderly women only makes him…human. Do not be so entranced because he simply lent his carriage to them. He probably owns ten carriages.

Elizabeth sat up straight, wiping away whatever awestruck expression must have been on her face. She was annoyed to see that this action only made Mr. Darcy's smile grow wider.

"My home—Pemberley—is far from town, and if you don't pay attention to the weather, you are a fool," he said.

"You are no fool, we can see that!" Mrs. Long said, her eyelashes fluttering until her cap fell onto them.

"And you aren't all high and mighty, like they say you are!" Mrs. Cooper added, causing Mrs. Long to elbow her again.

"You are both kind, but I am a fool. Or have been in the recent past." Mr. Darcy said this while staring straight at Elizabeth, and she could not help but think he was apologizing directly to her. Elizabeth realized that if she had met this man tonight, and only tonight, she would be as smitten as Mrs. Long and Mrs. Cooper.

Elizabeth stared at Mr. Darcy in wonder. He'd charmed her elderly neighbors, and somehow helped these poorer, less fortunate women—while making them feel like queens who were assisting him.

After they eagerly agreed, Mr. Darcy stood and bowed and said he would make the arrangements. But before he left their group, he turned to Elizabeth.

"Is there anything I could do, to help with your injury?" he asked.

"My injury?" Elizabeth said, her voice sharper than she'd intended. But she felt adrift at sea: she did know how to act around this kind and charming Mr. Darcy. It was much easier—and more familiar—to aim to hate him.

But despite her tone, Mr. Darcy flashed that slow, secret smile once more. The one that said he was vastly amused, but would not share why. "Your ankle," he reminded her. "You hurt it while dancing?"

"Ah, yes," Elizabeth said. Blast, how did I forget? It was his eyes. And his smile. And his stupid, horrible, lovely niceness.

"I do believe it has healed, thanks to this brief rest."

"Excellent. Then I will leave go to order the carriage. Thank you again, Mrs. Long, Mrs. Cooper. You have saved me tonight."

He looked at Elizabeth once more, a dark, searching glance that held no trace of a smile. And this time, Elizabeth felt it—felt that he wanted something. Something from her that, although she could not name, answered him from deep down, in her very core.

Mr. Darcy opened his mouth as if on the verge to speak, but then drew back and said nothing. He bowed curtly and moved swiftly away from them.

Elizabeth breathed again, only once Mr. Darcy had turned to make his way across the room. He had said it was close to ten o'clock? Thank goodness, as surely her parents would be ready to leave soon, and she could flee—this stifling room, her sisters shouting while they danced, her unctuous cousin—but most especially, Mr. Darcy.