Hi, Chapter 3 here. Elizabeth has just had her fall broken by Mr. Darcy after dancing with Thomas Wiley at the Meryton Assembly. As always thanks for reading. I know this is not terribly popular, but I've always thought Adam Driver would make a wonderfully arrogant Mr. Darcy, so that's who I've pictured as I wrote (I may or may not have a thing for Reylo [Kylo Ren + Rey Star Wars] stories.)

Grace

Mr. Darcy brushed off the soft wales of his pant legs and stood behind Bingley and his sisters after the introductions to the Bennets ended.

"What ho, Darcy? Are you now in the practice of saving maidens from injury?" Bingley said, grinning.

"Hardly," Darcy scoffed. He wished but could think of nothing more resonant to say but he could not, which he attributed to having spent a few dizzying moments tantalizingly underneath Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

"Can you imagine tripping like that? The mortification! The lack of grace!" Caroline Bingley said to Mrs. Hurst, truly scandalized. "I am not sure I would show my face again."

Mr. Hurst shook his head. "That is what comes from reckless behavior. I'm not sure what else she might expect from dancing with the boy. He is clearly an idiot."

Bingley straightened. "That is unkind, even for you, Hurst."

"Not at all, I heard townsfolk talking. It's known the boy is addle-brained. That is why he sits with the matrons instead of boys his age."

Darcy rolled back his shoulders to ease up the stiffness that was beginning to grow in his shoulder from the fall. Wonderful, now he likely would be sore as well as vexed.

"Then why is he at an assembly?" Caroline hissed. "Must the rest of us be in the presence of dangerous lunatics?"

"Perhaps," Darcy said lowly. "Like any of us, he enjoys social gatherings and dancing as well."

"Well, I do not wish to be put in danger simply because this town considers the feeble-brained as society. Someone should put a stop to it. Bingley, are you quite sure you wish to stay?"

"For God's sake, Caroline, do stop; no one was hurt. Try to find an ounce of Christian compassion. It's a boy, not a loose lion."

Caroline sniffed and said nothing, though she was clearly annoyed at her brother's outburst. She tugged at her gloves peevishly. "I shall take some refreshment, Charles, if you are not endangered by dancers flying at the punch bowl, that is."

Mrs. Hurst lowered her head and giggled at this and Caroline sent a death-glower at her. Darcy cleared his throat, still trying to get his bearings. He felt dazed as if he had been struck on the head although he knew his head had not been hit. It was his chest where Elizabeth Bennet had fallen on him. Her light verbana scent still tickled inside his nose and throat.

It was her eyes that kept coming back to him. Her dark, sparkling eyes. Even after she fell, they maintained the mirth of someone who knew it was ridiculous to be embarrassed by falling. There was truly no blame in her mein at all. She had laughed out loud–not at him–but at herself and at all of them, really, for being subject to gravity, and at that moment failing it miserably. Although Darcy himself was mortified to have fallen in public at an assembly, she clearly was unperturbed by it. It was so unlike himself, who was bothered by nearly everything and everyone.

Elizabeth looked all around the hall for Thomas Wiley. She wanted to reassure herself he was well after her fall. She knew how sensitive he was. Music swirled again and couples danced around her. Across the room, she saw Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley and his party conversing and laughing. Her eyes narrowed at him and she remembered how it felt for a moment to have fallen on his tall body. They were likely laughing at her. She straightened her chin. She could do nothing about that now.

She left the main hall and searched the small side annexed rooms around it. She saw a couple talking and some men smoking cigars and a few giggling children, but no sign of Thomas or his mother. She stepped into the fresh night air and looked around the entrance. In the distance, a carriage trundled away from the hall, but it looked quite fancy and seemed unlikely to be conveying Thomas or his mother. Elizabeth turned on the soft dirt ground outside the hall, but could see no one who matched Wiley's description. Maybe they had left a few moments earlier and she had missed them. She sighed softly. She would have to make a call to their home the next day to be sure Thomas was well. She was deeply sorry it was her fault that he was upset. Perhaps her mother was right, and she should have shown more care in dancing with the boy. But they had danced many times before without incident.

Elizabeth turned to go back up the steps into the hall when a tall figure appeared in her way on the threshold. Mr. Darcy.

Of course.

He stopped. One of his eyebrows arched skyward and his lips twisted.

"Should I worry about you falling again tonight?"

Her jaw tightened. She supposed he thought he was being comical.

"Fear not, Mr. Darcy. I shall promise keep my feet on the ground this time."

"I do hope so. I'm not sure my back could bear otherwise."

She smiled tightly and walked faster to get past him. "Good evening, Sir."

He glanced around the grounds. "Have they gone? The boy and his mother?"

Heat rose up her neck and cheeks.

"What do you mean, Sir?"

Darcy looked out past the torches into the dark street. "I offered them my carriage to convey them back home. I believe they have taken it."

Elizabeth stopped, surprised, and looked at him momentarily. "Oh. Well, that was kind of you."

"He was upset, and seemed to have suffered enough."

Elizabeth nodded and chewed her lip. "Thank you for that."

His dark head gave a brief nod. "But perhaps you should reconsider your dancing partners in the future."

His words again stopped her. She turned, raising her chin. "Thomas Wiley is a sweet, gentle boy. I only wanted to give him a chance to enjoy himself as the others were doing."

"A noble instinct, but perhaps he needs to learn his limitations instead of being coddled by women."

Now she froze. "Coddled?"

"Yes, coddled. Miss Bennet, I know you meant well and I admire your intention. But you may not realize…."

Elizabeth cut him off, forgetting all politeness. "I have danced with Thomas Wiley for years at these assemblies…"

His eyes were a dark grey. "Well, perhaps It would be a greater kindness to him if you stopped."

Heat rose up through Elizabeth's chest. How dare this stranger claim to understand the village she had lived all her life in better than she?

"I think I know the members of Meryton better than a stranger, Sir."

"Of course," he said quickly. "But you may not realize the effects an…" here Mr. Darcy paused, choosing his words, "...attractive young woman may have on a sheltered young man."

More anger flared in her. "Don't you mean 'only tolerable'?"

Mr. Darcy's brows knit together in confusion. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Is that not what you said…only tolerable, Sir?" She spat out the last word.

Darcy's face flinched and his lips thinned. "Those words were spoken in private conversation and not meant in earnest."

Elizabeth's lips curved upward in a smirk. "Of course." She couldn't help herself.

Darcy's face lost all expression. Only his nostrils quivered. "Madam, I am sorry that I insulted you. I regret you overhead my unkind comment. Perhaps it best that we say good evening."

Elizabeth met his eyes again, her own blazing. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. Good evening."

He swept past her and her anger moved her feet quickly back inside the assembly. If he had any more to say to her, she had no wish to hear it.

"Mr. Bingley said he will have a ball at Netherfield! I made him promise!" Kitty, who was set in between her sisters in the carriage, said as they traveled back to Longbourn.

Across the seat from Elizabeth, Jane blushed. "Kitty, you should not make him say that."

"But why? He said nothing would bring him more pleasure," Lydia said.

"What people say and what they mean are not always the same thing," Jane said and her eyes met Elizabeth's.

How true that was.

Or if he was Mr. Darcy, he said exactly what he was thinking no matter how rude.

"Why would someone say they wished to have a ball if they did not?"

"Perhaps he was only being polite."

"He wasn't. I'm certain. And he danced with you, Jane, twice."

Jane's lips curved up. "Yes, but that does not mean anything."

"Jane! He likes you, as Mama said. He could not stop looking at you. Even after Lizzy fell atop his friend," Lydia said.

Kitty turned to Elizabeth."That was very chivalrous of Darcy to catch you. Lizzy, did you hear bells when you were in his arms? Or is it firecrackers one is supposed to hear when they are in the arm of their one true love?"

"No, I most assuredly did not, Kitty," Elizabeth said, thought her lips quirked up in a bemused smile.

"Then it's not true love," Kitty said and turned cheerfully to look out the window.

"If a man is rich enough, I could fall in love," Lydia said. "But not if he has sour breath."

"La, if he is rich enough, you can afford all the peppermint in the world to amend his breath!" Kitty said and she and Lydia giggled excessively.

Across the carriage, Elizabeth and Jane exchanged tired smiles.

"It's a good thing you haven't met many wealthy men."

Elizabeth did not like Mr. Darcy, although she could admit that he probably was not a terrible person, but, rather one who rather too much liked the sound of his own voice and failed to understand how to converse with people below his station. But she reasoned, she saw no other compelling to hold his friendship against Mr. Bingley, who all the Bennet sisters all guessed clearly was in love with Jane.

"He is just as a man ought to be," Jane mused to Elizabeth later that evening.

"Indeed, rich and handsome," Lydia said from the door threshold, causing Elizabeth to stand and close the door.

"Lydia, do go to bed."

"That's not what I mean," Jane protested.

"Of course not," Elizabeth said smiling.

"Sour throat, low fever, and chills," Elizabeth felt her brow furrow with concern as she read Jane's short missive from Netherfield the next day. "I should go to her, poor dear." She let her hand holding the letter fall onto her waist in irritation.

To her surprise, a smile spread across her mother's lips. "She is ill! It is providence! Now she will be forced to stay a few days."

Elizabeth looked up and sighed. "Mama!"

"Don't you sigh at me, Lizzy. You may get down off your high horse. Now we shall have an engagement soon, mark my words, girls." Her gaze went past Elizabeth to her younger sisters. "Before the end of the year!"

"I must go to her." She glanced at the greying, gathering clouds in the window. She would need to do it soon if she was to walk to Netherfield. "Although it does look as though it will storm."

"Very well," Mama said and dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "I must tell Lady Lucas of this immediately." She stood and bustled out of the room. Sometimes Elizabeth wondered if her mother would have she and her sisters die early so long as they married well. Like a primitive sacrifice to the Husband Gods.

No matter. She would not let Jane perish on her watch. She folded up the letter and put it in her pocket. She needed to make haste to Netherfield. Elizabeth swallowed the sour taste in her throat of spending more time with Caroline Bingley, and–unfortunately–Mr. Darcy.

The skies darkened more as Elizabeth walked to Netherfield, unseasonable humidity pressing into her skin. She had rarely seen the skies such an odd grey-green, she thought while lightning flashed silently in the distance. It would storm soon. She moved faster to make it there before the rain, sweat breaking across her brow.

She moved her light boots quickly through the long grasses that made up most of the fields between Longbourn and Netherfield when the first raindrop hit her.

She held her palm upward as a second and third drop splashed on her hand. Just as she looked up, the rain began to fall steadily. Her hair and clothes would truly be a wretched fright by the time she arrived. Wet, muddy, and sodden. Well, Jane did not need to her to well-groomed to find her a presence a comfort. Hopefully she might be shown to Jane's room before she encountered the others. Particularly Darcy and Caroline. She knew she should not care a fig about their opinions regardless.

The rain increased. Fat, warm drops fell, dragging at her skirts and making her feel unkept and untidy. As Netherfield appeared over the hill, the skies opened and a true downpour fell. She struggled on, feeling more ridiculous and pathetic with each sodden step.

When the door to Netherfield was finally opened by a butler, Elizabeth was quite soaked. She saw surprise in his face as he looked at her up and down, taking in her soaking dress with a raised eyebrow.

Elizabeth ignored his quizzical expression. "I am here for my sister, Jane. She is guest of Miss Caroline Bingley's."

A moment later, the door opened further and Caroline appeared, curls beautifully in place and wearing a delicate dress of robin's egg blue dress. Elizabeth tried to mask her annoyance at her own appearance.

"Miss Eliza Bennet!" Her eyes widened with genuine surprise. "You are quite undone! Did you come all the way here on foot?" She looked out at the pouring skies. "What could you have been thinking? Sinclair, do let her in." She turned to a maid behind her. "Jenny, bring in some dry towels."

Behind her, Caroline's brother approached. "Miss Bennet! What a welcome surprise."

Elizabeth curtsied to both and took the dry cloth the mail held out. "Mr. Bingley, thank you. I have come to look after my sister. Unfortunately, I was caught in the downpour."

"Yes, of course. I will take you to her. Caroline, do you have a clean dress Miss Bennet may put on while the maid launders hers?"

Caroline set her mouth in an odd twist and nodded.

Elizabeth followed her up the stairs to her dressing room. "I believe I have a lovely white dress that will not be too plain on you," Caroline said. Elizabeth tried not to cringe. She did not loook well in white, but Caroline either did not care or wished her to appear wan. "Or lemon yellow, perhaps?" She clapped her hands merrily. "We shall see. I shall make you my doll." She did not enjoy being in the crosshairs of Caroline's attention.

Caroline Bingley found Elizabeth a dress, one she pronounced "did not take away from Elizabeth's natural charms with frills or frippery," (meaning it was quite plain) and Elizabeth changed and let Caroline's lady's maid untie her hair and replait it. "You have a lovely figure," the lady's maid told her, "underneath your plain dress."

Finally, she was clean, dry, and ushered in to see Jane, who lay atop a luxurious bed of down pillows.

"Lizzy! I am glad to see you. I hope I am not a burden to our hosts. This dratted cold!" She sneezed again.

Elizabeth was pleased to see Jane's familiar face again. "How are you, my dearest?"

"Tired, but I am bored. Come read to me, please."

Elizabeth settled next to her sister on the bed and picked up one of the books on Jane's bedside table.

"Aristotle's Poetics? Jane, since when do you read Aristotle?" She set it down and picked up another book. "Plato's Republic? Did you choose these?"

Jane's face reddened. "No, I asked Mr. Bingley to pick some books for me, and I think he asked Mr. Darcy's help. These are what I received. I think they are Mr. Darcy's idea of good sickbed books."

Elizabeth smiled. "Lofty reads indeed." She shook her head softly. "Not terribly surprising. It does explain a lot."

Jane shrugged. "Read Plato. It is nice just to hear your voice." Elizabeth settled next to her sister and began to read. She finished a page and turned it as Jane leaned against her.

"How has it been being here?" Elizabeth asked.

"I feel foolish, but my hosts have been very kind."

"That is gratifying. I find Mr. Darcy to be a tedious know-it-all."

Jane smiled indulgently. "You are too harsh. He has been very pleasant to me."

"Perhaps I was too harsh, but I doubt it."

Someone rapped at the door. The butler opened it and asked if Elizabeth would take dinner with her guests in a half hour.

"Oh no, I do not wish to be trouble," Elizabeth said.

Jane touched her with her shoulder. "You should go down. Their cook is quite good, and they have been so kind. It would be poor manners not to."

Elizabeth paused. "All right, Jane, I will do so for you, but I would not endure Mr. Darcy for anyone else. How is Mr. Bingley behaving?"

Jane reddened again and glanced down, a serene smile played on her lips. She placed her hand on her sister's. "Lizzy, he is goodness personified," she said very seriously.

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "High praise indeed."

"He has visited every day, insisted the cook make his childhood recipe for game hen broth, and checks on my symptoms almost hourly."

"You are a lucky patient indeed."

Her cheeks splotched pink again as she grasped her sister's hand. "Lizzy, it feels like a dream."

Another knock on the door. It was the butler again. "Miss, the hosts are gathering downstairs for dinner."

"I suppose I must go, Jane, but I'd rather stay with you."

"Go, and be charming, they mean very well."

Elizabeth was not completely convinced of Jane's assessment, but she stood and smoothed her skirts.