A/N: This bit of fluff is set in the movie-verse of the 2015 Keira Knightley movie. It starts where Mary is crying in a corner after her father embarrasses her at the Netherfield ball.

It's admittedly a bit of a stretch to call this one compromise related, but I'm thinking about how Darcy's behaviour is always compromising between the principles his parents taught him and the survival strategy society demands—so sometimes his behaviour might deviate from the expected. Where he might otherwise be more friendly and open, that leads to excessive fawning and expectations. In that context, his reserved mask is not the ideal strategy, but it's at least rational and somewhat consistent.

Wade

"Miss Mary… please…"

Mary Bennet startled at the gentle words from a thoroughly unknown masculine source and wiped enough of her tears away to see a man's handkerchief.

Feeling more embarrassed than she ever had in her life, she simply said, "Thank you," and started drying her eyes.

Over the previous hour, her evening had gone from bad to worse to terrible. The pianoforte was her one-lone-accomplishment, and she thought the Netherfield Ball could be the perfect place to exhibit. Aside from a dance with her cousin Collins, which nearly cost her the ability to walk, the evening had only one opportunity for enjoyment. However, she found herself nervous and flustered, so her song came out far weaker than she preferred and apparently too long for the audience.

Her father vacillated between indolence and cruelty, so he naturally stopped her in the most humiliating fashion possible. When Mary had finished her second song, said aloud, "That will do extremely well, child. You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit."

Unable to bear the scorn of the entire assembly, nor suffer as the butt of her father's cruelty any longer, she ran from the instrument with what little dignity she could summon. A few minutes found her hidden in a small and thankfully hidden alcove, trying her best to cry silently enough to keep her humiliation at manageable levels.

Even that goal seemed out of reach, as some man had obviously found her—although the fact he was handing her a handkerchief showed he was at least not malevolent.

After wiping her eyes so she could see again, she turned to identify her benefactor.

"Thank you, Mr Darcy," she said in some surprise.

The man looked as grave as ever—not that seriousness was such a bad aspect. "It is my pleasure, Miss Mary… well… not my 'pleasure' per se, but I hope you understand."

"I do, and once again, I thank you."

Both stood in awkward silence for a moment while Mary dried her eyes and sniffled.

She was most surprised when the gentleman said, "Please use the handkerchief for its intended purpose. I will be neither offended nor inconvenienced. My sister Georgiana makes them by the dozen and will be thrilled to have been of service."

Still embarrassed but assuming following instruction might be less embarrassing than continuing to sniffle, she blew her nose with as much dignity as she could muster and felt better.

"I thank you, sir. I shall launder and return it to you."

"It is unnecessary."

At a loss for what to say next, Mary stared straight ahead for a moment. The gentleman was off to her left and facing the opposite direction, so he would need to turn his head from its current position of staring at the ballroom to see her. She appreciated the consideration he showed by helping her without staring or disclosing her location to the gossips in the room.

Somewhat confused by his apparently out of character behaviour, Mary sheepishly asked, "Why do you help me, Mr Darcy?"

She regretted the query before she even finished speaking but could not think of a polite way to retract it aside from standing around in a stupid manner with her cheeks flaming.

"Do you mean, why do I perform the most basic duty of a gentleman?" he asked, more gently than she expected.

She stuttered in embarrassment, "I… no… I did not mean… I…"

Sounding grieved, he said, "Be at peace, Miss Mary," and emphasised with a chuckle indicating he understood her embarrassment. "I was not offended by the question, and I hope you were not disconcerted by my weak attempt at levity."

She felt slightly mollified. "My apologies. That did not come out as I hoped."

"Our speech does not always conform to our intent, does it?"

"Mine rarely does."

He surprised her by looking at her directly and giving something between a grimace and a smile.

"In answer to your question, aside from my basic duty as a gentleman to help a lady in distress, I tried to imagine my sister being thus mortified in public. She is shy and awkward in company… perhaps, much like you? I would hope in a similar situation, some other gentleman would act as I have, out of kindness or duty."

"I would suggest kindness as your motive."

He shrugged, which surprised her.

Mary stared at the man who had returned his face to the ballroom. "To truly make the analogy work, you need to presuppose your father set your sister to tears in the first place."

He gave a half-frown. "My father is dead these five years. I am my sister's guardian, so I suppose I would need to do the honours."

Mary gasped and tried to retract her statement, but Darcy raised his hand. "Be easy. We both seem to squawk out things that sound awkward or mean-spirited. I will take no offense if you do not."

Mary felt more than usually awkward but continued resolutely. "I suppose for the scheme to work, you would need to first set your sister to tears, then calm her down by handing her a handkerchief she made with her own hands. It all sounds a bit circular."

Darcy laughed, and Mary had to admit she liked the sound of it. The man always seemed formidable, but for some inscrutable reason, he was far more approachable that evening.

"I suppose it might be more efficient for me to simply learn not to give offense wherever I go."

Mary turned to face him squarely. "You never offended me, and you are kindness itself tonight."

He chuckled, although Mary could not tell if it was in humour or chagrin. He was certainly a most puzzling man.

Darcy was still facing the ballroom. "I enjoyed our conversation. I hope you are not offended when I do not face you."

She had been puzzled by the mannerism, but the reason for it became apparent. "You did not want anyone to notice me here. You are protecting me!"

"That is my intent," he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I very much appreciate it."

They stood in companionable silence for another minute or two. Mary could hear the musicians tuning up for the first set after supper, and she supposed she would be required to face the world sooner or later.

"Miss Mary, I fear I will not remain unnoticed for long. Someone will come to disturb our tête-à-tête, eventually. I wonder if there is some additional service I might provide?"

Once again, her tongue outpaced her thoughts. "Why?" she asked in some surprise, quickly followed by embarrassment.

He chuckled, "I rather enjoyed playing the gallant. I fear …"

He paused for some time in apparent embarrassment, so Mary prodded. "… you fear what, sir?"

"My life is largely filled with people who want something. It feels noble to do a gallant deed for no other reason than doing the right thing. One more good deed and I may count the night a great success," he said with a surprisingly hearty laugh.

Mary found the look of delight on his face pleasing and gave him what he asked for. "You wish something like the Labors of Hercules?"

"Perhaps not the full dozen, but one would not be amiss… besides asking you for your next set if you find the idea agreeable."

Mary startled at the suggestion but could see he was earnest. "I would be happy to dance with you," then she took a deep breath and continued, "I am not asked often."

"Let this be the exception."

"I thank you."

Darcy turned to face her.

Now that the cat was soon to be out of the bag, she asked, "Do you still wish a Labour of Hercules?"

"Certainly."

Mary stared at him for some time, then said, "Make peace with my sister, Elizabeth?"

"Excuse me!" Darcy said, looking alarmed and confused.

"My sister, Elizabeth… make peace with her. You slighted her before you were even introduced. You called her not handsome enough to even tempt you to dance, let alone set you into motion. You can have no idea how much it hurts to have a stranger say something so mean-spirited in your hearing… especially when it agrees with what our mother says every day. If you wish to do a gallant deed, I suggest you apologise."

Darcy stared at her in stunned silence, his jaw unconsciously flexing to the point Mary was concerned about his teeth.

He finally mumbled, "I remember it now. If she heard that —" then he trailed off, looking as if he was rethinking his entire visit.

He finally sighed dejectedly. "That explains a great deal. I imagine she dislikes me."

"To put it mildly… yes. That may be why she implicitly believes everything Mr Wickham says whether it makes sense or not. It matches her narrative. You wounded her vanity, and he flatters it."

Darcy stewed another minute or so, then finally sighed. "That was badly done."

"Badly done, indeed!"

Darcy nodded a couple of times. "Shall we find your sister and set things right?" he asked, while holding out his arm.

She took it without qualms. "Lead on, sir."

Elizabeth Bennet found herself after supper without a dance partner as the musicians warmed up, but she found the idea of no partner vastly preferable to her two most notable partners thus far. Mr Collins nearly ruined her gown, and she quarrelled with Mr Darcy. She had not really intended to quarrel with him… not really… not exactly… he was just so… so… so…

She nearly made an unladylike growl. She was standing with Jane and Charlotte, looking around, trying to find Mary, whom her father had humiliated at the pianoforte. Elizabeth had been quietly searching for a half-hour, after listening to Miss Bingley rattle on about Mr Wickham (even though she knew nothing aside from his birth), chastising her father for his ungentlemanly remarks to Mary (like chastising a rock), and spending the entire supper hour trying in vain to get her mother to either stop being vulgar, or at least do it more quietly (like holding back the tide).

She was standing with Jane and Charlotte, trying to look around subtly for Mary, while not staring at Mr Darcy, who had been holding up a wall for the past half-hour; when she noticed him hold his arm out to someone who was hidden behind the corner.

She gasped and grabbed Jane's hand when she saw Mary take hold of the Derbyshire gentleman's arm. The only scenario that made sense was one in which Mr Darcy had been both holding up the wall and protecting Mary behind it the whole time, which was… which was… she had no idea what it was, but calling it gallant might not be the worst word available.

As if preordained, she saw Mary gesture to her to stay put, and the couple walked around the ballroom to approach.

When they arrived, Mr Darcy bowed to her for some inscrutable reason of his own, and even more surprisingly, said gently, "It is fortunate to find the three of you together."

"How so?" asked Elizabeth with some surprise but mostly curiosity.

"Because I have things to say to all of you, if you will allow it," Darcy said gently, very much to everyone's surprise. They all assumed that if the gentleman had something to say, he would just get on with it without so much fuss, assuming they would listen to whatever was on his mind.

Elizabeth was stunned into silence, but Charlotte kept a cooler head. "We would be happy to listen, sir."

"Thank you, Miss Lucas," he replied gently.

This surprised Elizabeth both with the fact that he could speak so gently, but also because she previously believed the gentleman could not identify Charlotte by name for a thousand pounds.

Much to Elizabeth's surprise, Mary had something to say. "Lizzy, I know how wedded you are to your usually infallible first impressions, but I will beg you to give Mr Darcy a chance and listen to what he has to say with an open mind."

Elizabeth looked back and forth between Mary and Mr. Darcy several times, trying to work out what had occurred since she last saw her sister. Mary was another lady she would have thought Mr Darcy incapable of identifying, and yet here she was hanging from his arm and rather forcefully instructing her elder sister.

She was finally pulled from her stupor. "All right, Mary. I will bite. Proceed at your leisure, Mr Darcy."

Darcy seemed to lose some of his usual self-confidence, but otherwise did not hesitate as he turned to face Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth, I owe you a rather large apology… you and everyone else in this neighbourhood. I said some abominably unkind words about you within your hearing the first night we met. They were unkind, ungentlemanly, and most definitely untrue. I shudder to think of how my sister would be devastated by such words, or how disappointed my parents would be. I regret them deeply and offer my most sincere apologies."

Stunned, Elizabeth just stared at the man but could not think of a thing to say.

Jane came to her rescue. "Why would you say such a thing?"

The man looked uncomfortable, but stoically faced her and replied, "There is no excuse for such rudeness."

"I am not saying there is, nor am I excusing your behaviour. That said, there are sometimes mitigating circumstances. I am certain Lizzy will accept your apology once she realises you are not the ogre she thought you to be, but it would help us understand you if we knew the cause."

Elizabeth was still incapable of speech, but Mary said, "You did not lead with excuses, which is very much in your favour. Most men would try to minimise their culpability, but you did not. I believe we can give you the benefit of the doubt."

Darcy just stared at Elizabeth since she was the offended party.

She finally regained her tongue. "May I attack the issue obliquely, Mr Darcy? If I insisted you explain your reasons, and you complied fully, do you think it would mitigate my resentment?"

"If I explained fully, it would probably not reduce your overall anger, but it would most likely treble it and redirect it to another even worse man. In the end, you would be angry with two men instead of one, but at least you would know why."

"The other man… I suppose we all know who you mean. Without the specifics—which I might ask for later—if I put your offences and his on the same objective scale, what would be my relative levels of anger if I were a rational being?"

The gentleman seemed to think about it a while as all the ladies looked on curiously.

He finally blew out a breath. "I dislike putting it so because it will sound like I am making excuses for my rudeness, but you asked. In that scale, you would feel rather annoyed with me and murderous with him."

All three ladies gasped.

Charlotte regained her tongue first. "Is Mr Wickham so very bad then?"

"He is not the worst man I know, but he would certainly make a showing in the worst dozen."

Elizabeth asked, "Should we be worried that he will do worse than spreading lies about you… assuming of course they are lies?"

"They will be lies based on a kernel of truth. He is very good at it. Beyond that… yes, he will do far worse."

Elizabeth said, "If he is such a snake in the grass, will you work with us to defang him? I must assume he holds some leverage over you, since otherwise you would just squash him. That said, we control the gossip for the neighbourhood. We can accomplish things you cannot if you give us what we need. Will you help us?"

"Of course," Darcy said, neglecting to mention he had not entertained any such notion five minutes previously.

"Then I shall correct your last assessment. I am in fact murderously angry with a man who played me for a fool. I will have my revenge. That said, you are mostly forgiven, and not so far short of entirely so."

Suddenly, Darcy felt lighter than he had in years—as if a heavy burden had instantly been lifted from his shoulders.

"Ladies, there are four sets left. Do I ask too much by requesting Miss Mary, Miss Lucas, Miss Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth in that order."

Mary, Charlotte, and Jane agreed immediately.

Elizabeth looked extremely pensive. "I shall be happy to dance with you at your leisure, but that set would be both significant and your second with me. I would also be the only lady in the neighbourhood you singled out. I can handle the village gossip, but you should be aware that the more rapacious matchmakers (of which my mother is the worst), will most definitely try to raise unreasonable expectations over such overt favour, even though it is nothing more than a couple of dances. You will not be obliged, but you might be very uncomfortable for the rest of your stay."

"You are not afraid?"

"It is only gossip. We deal with worse every day."

Darcy smiled broadly, which nearly frightened all the ladies in general, and one in particular. "Your analysis is nearly flawless, Miss Elizabeth. I would only quibble with a single word."

She scrunched her face in confusion trying to work out what he meant. "Which one?"

He reached for her hand, which she gave him in confusion. "The dubious word is 'unreasonable'. You should remove it, because, as strange as this may sound, your mother will be right for once.

Elizabeth felt a strange fluttery feeling as he took her hand which was not exactly unpleasant. It was unsettling, but not unpleasant. She even thought she could eventually become accustomed to it, and perhaps even like it one day.

"That is a bold statement for a man who never dances if he can help it," she said impertinently, just to buy time.

Darcy laughed quietly. "Drat… that makes twice Mrs Bennet was right."

"Elaborate!" she snapped in confusion.

"The night of the assembly, I told Mrs Bennet, 'I rarely dance,' to which she replied, 'Let this be the exception.'"

Elizabeth laughed gaily.

Darcy took both her hands, and said, "And of course, you remember I asked what you recommend over poetry to encourage affection, to which you replied, 'dancing.'"

Charlotte laughed, "He has you there, Lizzy."

She squirmed a bit, looked down at their joined hands, and whispered, "Can it be true? You are in earnest?"

"I am," he said, equally gently.

She frowned but squeezed his hands to remove any sting. "It is a lot to take in."

He smiled. "All in good time. As they say, to everything there is a season. We have had our season of conflict. Now it is time for a season of courtship, where we may peek underneath our masks and discover how well we suit. If we mutually agree, that will lead to a season of engagement, followed by a season of family. There is no hurry."

Elizabeth laughed gaily, "All right, but you should be aware that 'season of courtship' is synonymous with 'open season' in the Bennet household."

Darcy joined the laughter, then leaned over to whisper quietly. "There is a great temptation to kiss you right here and now, thus skipping one of the seasons entirely."

She smiled shyly. "You would not do that because you are a gentleman," but then she leaned even closer to whisper, "but I must admit the idea has something to recommend it."

The couple stared at each other in wonder, until Mary rather incongruously said, "Our dance is about to start, Mr Darcy. Shall I fetch a bucket of ice."

Everyone burst out laughing, not least because it was Mary being impertinent for once.

Elizabeth turned to Charlotte. "It looks like Mr Collins is available for dancing or matrimony. Any interest?"

"He will do for me for both," Charlotte said with almost unseemly enthusiasm. "I am not romantic, and his situation will be entirely sufficient."

"We shall see to it," Elizabeth said, finding herself both surprised and amused that she had no qualms assuming Mr Darcy would take care of it for her.

Mr Collins was the sort of man who would take a suggestion from the man she was beginning to regard as her likely future husband like an order from his bishop. That seemed like a convenient sort of capability to have available for such awkward problems. In fact, Mr Darcy was beginning to seem like an all-around handy sort of gentleman to keep around.

Darcy brought Mary back at the end of their set, and it was the work of a moment for Lizzy and Darcy to transfer Mr Collins's attentions to the obviously more suitable Miss Lucas. Once the parson secured the last set with Charlotte, Elizabeth breathed a real sigh of relief. She felt for Charlotte, but at twenty-seven, her friend was just ready to be married, and considered the identity and personal traits of her husband incidental.

Elizabeth secretly believed Charlotte preferred a stupid husband, and Elizabeth gave it a year before all of Lady Catherine's authority had been entirely circumvented by Mrs Collins, and thinking ahead, Elizabeth could not think of a better future mistress for Longbourn.

She danced once again with an officer, and then spent some time discussing the extraordinary turn of events with Charlotte as she waited with some anxiety for the last set.

If Elizabeth thought the stares of her neighbours when she became the first local lady to dance with Mr Darcy were intense, they were as nothing to what she endured when she stood up for the last set. She had to thank all the fates that her mother did not notice until she was halfway through the set, and by that time they were spending most of their time on the far side of the ballroom.

Elizabeth was fully engaged in watching the reactions of her neighbours, and was slightly startled when Mr Darcy spoke first.

"I believe your prediction has come true, Miss Elizabeth."

She slightly startled. "Which prediction is that?"

He chuckled, and smiled in a way that made her slightly squirm and wonder what future feelings the confusing man might engender.

The dance separated them for a moment, and when they came together he replied, "You made two assertions in the earlier dance. The first is that, with respect to conversation, sometimes a very little would do. The evening has been so arranged to allow us to have the trouble of saying as little as possible."

Elizabeth laughed gaily. "Yes… I should say that the few dozen words we exchanged after supper were as little as possible, but profound nonetheless."

He smiled again, and Elizabeth noticed that most of her neighbours seemed amazed that he was capable of the expression, but that was followed by the sad thought that she felt the same a few hours earlier.

Darcy continued, "Yes, that is true… but in the end, we both said something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb. It was quite neatly done!"

Elizabeth laughed gaily, which made the neighbours gawk even more, while Miss Bingley's face turned so red Elizabeth thought her hair might catch fire.

"You are a man of few words, but when you do choose to speak, you can certainly carry your end of a conversation."

"Yes, well my cousin Fitzwilliam always says I 'am lively enough other places'. I think once I am secure in your affections you will find me much more conversable."

Elizabeth blushed. "To be honest, you were not so very bad in retrospect at Netherfield. When I abandon my prejudice, I must admit you have always spoken to me with respect."

He blushed himself. "I did not always speak about you in respect, but I have learned my lesson."

Elizabeth smiled softly. "I like your suggestion about the seasons. I suggest we consider our first dance the end of winter. Spring starts tomorrow. I should like you to call in the afternoon."

"It will be my pleasure to see you, and I should speak to your father as well."

Elizabeth sighed and frowned slightly. "Do you mind if I use your status and fearsome countenance to my benefit to smooth our courtship?"

He laughed. "Of course not. Make no mistake, Elizabeth. I intend to be your husband, and as such it is your duty to use whatever tools are at your disposal to benefit our family."

Elizabeth blushed at such a blatant statement made in the middle of a ball, but not enough to ask him to retract it. There was little doubt that with two people with such disparate social positions, there was a straight line from a significant second set to a wedding, and any change in that plan was unlikely. Though she was loathe to admit it to herself, deep down she knew what she was accepting when she agreed to the last set.

"Just so you know, I am planning to use your expectations of behaviour in the first circles as a weapon. I will tell my mother nothing would make you run from the county faster than matchmaking, such as overtly praising one daughter or denigrating another, particularly when a man is courting the latter."

Darcy frowned. "Does that happen often?"

She sighed. "The debacle you observed at Netherfield was not out of the ordinary."

He growled. "You need not make up my disapprobation for the habit. If she continues, she will get her chastisement straight from the horse's mouth."

Elizabeth laughed. "You look so fearsome when you say that. I must say …" then she paused and surprisingly shyly added, "… I am not averse to having a defender… not that I cannot take care of myself."

"We will take care of each other. I will need you to defend me socially far more often than the converse."

Elizabeth smiled, then frowned. "I may also mention your dislike of my youngest sisters' behaviour."

"Once again, you are not saying anything of which I disapprove."

The dance came to an end just as the discussion of practicalities of the beginning of their courtship were finished, and Elizabeth was happy to have made it through.

The Longbourn party were the last of all the company to depart, and, by a manoeuvre of Mrs Bennet, had to wait for their carriage a quarter of an hour after everybody else was gone. Elizabeth wondered how bad that embarrassment would have been to endure if she had not reconciled with Mr Darcy, but as it was, having another quarter hour tête-à-tête with her beau had a lot to recommend it.

Charlotte, happy to have nothing left to be done save a proposal and wedding, both of which were nearly inevitable, took it upon herself, through Herculean effort and self-sacrifice to engage both Mr Collins and Miss Bingley in a conversation that neither of her victims were clever enough to escape. Elizabeth thought Charlotte would have made a very good siren in another age.

Mary started out standing just outside earshot to try to drive off anyone who wanted to disrupt Lizzy and Darcy, but neither member of the couple would tolerate such an exclusion. They both knew they had many hours and decades to live their lives. Both were becoming more and more convinced said lives would be spent together, and both were gradually becoming more certain of the rightness of that course. That said, they would have a few months with Mary and did not want to waste them.

Darcy, of course, started thinking ahead and planned to have Mary live with them at least long enough to learn to play the pianoforte better, but she also thought Georgiana and Mary might like to come out in London society together. Of course, that was a problem for another day, but it was never too soon to start planning.

When the Longbourn carriage finally appeared, Darcy placed cloaks on Mary and Elizabeth's shoulders personally—an action that went unnoticed by exactly nobody.

As he placed Elizabeth's cloak, he leaned far too close for propriety and whispered, "I do believe we will be the happiest couple in the world, Elizabeth."

She smiled back over her shoulder and whispered, "Jane and Bingley will smile but we will laugh."

He barely managed to resist the temptation to kiss her cheek, but her hand did not fare so well when he handed her into the carriage.

For such a promising beginning, the courtship of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy took a surprisingly long time. Fully embracing the idea of a season for everything, they spent most of the winter courting. Aside from simply wanting to enjoy a season that they would only have once in their lifetime, Darcy still had to knock some sense into Bingley if he ever wanted to be a proper master of an estate. Doing so when both master and student only dedicated a tenth part of their thoughts to the task was not a receipt for rapid success, but it eventually resulted in a more decisive man.

Darcy also had to somehow make arrangements to prevent the youngest Bennet sisters from ruining the family, defang George Wickham, introduce Mary to Georgiana, and work with Mr Bennet to improve Longbourn (mainly because he felt somewhat guilty for not finding a better husband for Charlotte).

In the end, Darcy and Elizabeth visited Hunsford at Easter as an engaged couple, and to the astonishment of all, Anne de Bourgh became good friends with the soon to be Mrs Darcy and even stood up for her at her wedding.

A/N: In a weird sort of coincidence, I added the little bit about 'to everything there is a season' just because I wanted to slow the thing down. Later I learned that David Crosby died the same day I wrote that section. The original Byrds song was mostly written by Pete Seeger and Gene Clark in the 50s and first recorded in 1959, but David Crosby got his very first songwriting credit for contributing. Of course, the original words came from the Book of Ecclesiastes.

When I think of seasons, I usually think of the awesome 'Seasons of Love' from 'Rent' which is more my thing. That song doesn't fit at all, but I did riff from its lyrics in 'Til Death Us Do Part'.

Wade