Happy holidays and New Year! I'm still writing! I hope you are all doing well. Thanks in advance for reading my work.

Grace

Elizabeth watched in fascination as the preparations for the Netherfield ball began. After the house was deeply scrubbed, autumnal garland of red and gold leaves were wound around the imposing main staircase's banisters. Hundreds of golden tallow candle tapers–the expensive kind, she noted–were placed on tables all around the main entryway with silver and gold decor leaves strewn on the floor. Several large pumpkins and gourds had also been amongst the decor, including a magnificent crystal one to hold punch. The candles and leaf decor made Netherfield look like autumn had been brushed with a layer of gold. It was enchanting, and Elizabeth desperately wanted to share it with Jane and her other sisters. But the only person who took any interest in preparations was Caroline Bingley, and she seemed only to complain about the lack of selection for decor and about the Hertfordshire rustics who would not appreciate it. So Elizabeth avoided her as much as possible.

Bingley slapped Elizabeth on the back, startling her from her morning newsprint.

"What ho, old man? Let's say we go into the village today?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Meryton?" She eyed the rain pelting the nearby window. "Today?"

"I'm not sitting around here watching the servants polish the silver again today. I don't care how much it rains. Besides, Caroline wishes to see the flowers she's commissioned for the ball. We can all go in a carriage. It'll be cozy, but we can leave Caro with the florist and nip into a pub."

A pub? She had never been inside the men's area of a public house before. But she had always wondered what those places were like and now she might find out. It was a ridiculous idea, but she was in a ridiculous situation. Elizabeth's heart pounded. Last night in bed, she considered that perhaps after she crashed into Mr. Darcy at the assembly, she's fallen unconscious and now this was all a very vivid dream she was having. His was, after all, the last face she had seen, so that might explain why she was imagining herself as him. That almost made sense. Thought It certainly felt real enough.

Elizabeth changed into Mr. Darcy's traveling attire, pleased for the extra layers on a chilly, rainy day, and headed downstairs to see Bingley and Caroline already waiting for him. She felt Caroline's gaze bore into her, while Bingley's arms were crossed peevishly. "There you are, Darcy! You take longer to get ready than a woman!"

Elizabeth smarted at the comment. "I had to change my coat," she said as Caroline slipped her arm into hers. Caroline Bingley was harder to shake off than a leech. Elizabeth tried not to react too peevishly or pull away from Caroline as she leaned toward her. "When the results are this handsome, it is worth the wait," she faux-whispered too closely to Elizabeth's ear, but was clearly heard by her brother, who tsked loudly. "Hardly. Let us go before the day is completely burned off."

Caroline sat in the carriage across from Bingley, which made her have to choose whom to sit by in the carriage. She wished she could choose Bingley, but knew it would be poor manners to not sit beside Caroline. She reluctantly took her seat as Caroline moved closer to her in the small cab.

"How are the preparations for the ball coming, Caro?"

Next to her, she saw Caroline smile smugly. "Even I am impressed by how well the house is being transformed. What do you think of the decor, Mr. Darcy? Have you yet visited the ballroom since yesterday?"

"I saw as I walked to breakfast this morning. Very festive. The golden leaves are a lovely touch," Elizabeth said more to Bingley than his seatmate.

Caroline's smile widened. "I'm so pleased that you noticed! The florist suggested the gold-pained leaves, and at first, I was uncertain, but I agree that it looks quite nice. See, Charles? Mr. Darcy appreciates my efforts."

Bingley rolled his eyes. "I appreciate your efforts in hosting, Caro, I just have little interest in ballroom flourishes, and I doubt Darcy truly does either."

Elizabeth closed her eyes for a moment of buffer against the sibling sniping to which she was privy. Honestly, at times, the Bingleys made her and her sisters seem nearly civilized, even Lydia. She had no idea they could be so petty to each other.

"Listen to the both of you! Do stop your bickering. You are the luckiest of siblings, you have the best of everything and yet all you do is argue," Elizabeth said impulsively, but heard her voice as Darcy come out low and growling. She stopped, horrified that she had spoken so impulsive and cruelly. She glanced sheepishly at her seatmates, Caroline was looking down, seemingly chastened into silence. While Bingley–his eyes hurt–blinked back at her.

"I do apologize," Elizabeth said hastily, looking quickly from one Bingley to the other. "I have not the right to speak…"

To her astonishment, Bingley cut her off. "No, you are right to censure us. We both have been acting like spoilt children, I'm afraid. You are a good friend to treat us with such candor."

Caroline's eyes fluttered, and Elizabeth was afraid she might cry for a moment, but she did not, instead simply peering coldly at Elizabeth for a moment. Then she simply batted her lashes again and her grey eyes were round and wounded. Like a fawn. Elizabeth swallowed to hide her annoyance.

"You are correct, Mr. Darcy." Caroline placed a warm hand on Darcy's arm. "You are a dear friend to Charles–and myself–to speak to us thus. We have been abominable since we arrived in the country. Charles and I grew used to getting what we wanted several years ago and no none has checked our behavior until now. You are a rare friend."

"Mr. Darcy, if anyone can censure us, it is you. You are one of Charles's oldest friends, and one of the most esteemed gentlemen in the country."Caroline laughed a silvery tra-la-la. "If not YOU, then who? Charles is very fortunate in your friendship."

Elizabeth sat back uneasily, wondering why both allowed her to speak to them so rudely. And seemed grateful for it. How odd. She wondered if Darcy was always treated thus. No wonder he was so arrogant. She sat quietly considering this sobering idea. Maybe Darcy was more of a product of his station than she may have thought. She'd always thought people's personalities were molded to their world, not the opposite. But maybe Darcy was self-centered because everyone treated him as though he was as the most important man in nearly any room?

"Have you decided what to do with your tenant?"

Elizabeth froze. Tenant? She blinked at Bingley, wondering how to respond.

"Oh, Charles," Caroline interrupted, rolling her eyes. "You are such a soft touch. Always concerned for the disenfranchised."

"Which tenant?"

Elizabeth shook her head and forced herself to smile. "Oh, yes, no I've not made up my mind on how to handle it." Elizabeth paused here, fishing for information. "Might you have any suggestions?"

Bingley scratched his forehead. "It is a difficult situation, as you cannot fall into the habit of allowing tenants to run late with rent, even if they run into bad luck. Poor business, I'm afraid."

"Indeed," Elizabeth fiddled with one of Darcy's gloves. "And how might you handle it, Bingley?"

Bingley glanced at his sister, who smirked next to him. He drew in his breath. "I understand your concern for this chap and his family–" he glanced at his sister cheerfully. "Even if Caro is sneering at me for it–can you devise some plan that will allow him to continue paying you without going completely broke? Do not be offended, but paying his bills from your own pocket is not a sound long-term plan. I do agree with your idea to send your physician to see his wife, as she is not well. Very kind of you. No other landlord would do more."

Elizabeth's lips twitched to hide her surprise as he spoke. So Darcy had a tenant with an ill wife who could not afford to pay rent, and he had been paying it in his stead? And sending his physician to her? How surprising Mr. Darcy could be at times. She saw Bingley's gaze upon her and tried to arrange her expression into something that looked more Darcy-like: cool, serious, and indifferent. But she had a small sensation he could see through her. No, that was impossible. He could not guess.

The small village of Meryton came into view through the jostling carriage window, and Elizabeth's mood rose as soon as she saw the familiar winding streets, the small shops' fronts, and homes that she knew so well. She was cheered by the familiar faces of acquaintances walking through the streets. There went John Miller, the barber! And not far from him was Eugenia Smith, a girl near Lydia's age. She's always thought Eugenia a silly girl, but now her heart thrilled at the site of her. She had to stop herself from calling out to her. The carriage stopped and she hurried down the steps. The girl's eyes met hers and glanced quickly away–unfriendly–as she did not know her. Of course she did not. She was a stranger to them all, trapped as she was in Darcy's body. She stiffened as she felt the gulf between herself and her old life widen. Elizabeth felt very much a stranger to herself. She wondered if she might ever get her old self back. Then she realized Caroline Bingley sat, waiting on her, and Elizabeth held out a gloved, strong hand to help Caroline from the carriage.

Caroline's hand was small in hers, and her green eyes gazed up at her through her lashes, an affectation that made Elizabeth shudder. How transparent Caroline was. She moved quickly away from her, eager to follow Bingley down the street to the florist.

"Here is the floral seller, Caroline. Darcy and I will be at the Red Lion if you need us," Bingley said, pulling Elizabeth's arm and guiding her down the street to the dark-looking public house.

Elizabeth paused, uncertain. "Are you sure we should leave your sister alone? Perhaps we should wait with her?" She did not wish to spend any more time in Miss Binbngley's company than but she felt trepidation about going into the dark public house.

"Bah," Bingley said, smiling cheerfully. "I am in need of some female-free company."

Elizabeth's heart sank at his words. It sounded so scandalous. But she forced herself to step forward. Mr. Darcy would not hesitate to attend a public house with Bingley, even a shabby little one in Meryton.