A/N: Still writing. Thanks for reading.

Grace

Darcy stood before the looking glass in Elizabeth Bennet's bed-chamber at Longbourn and frowned. He half turned, viewing the back of his person before he squared himself. He still could not reconcile the rather pretty be-gowned image in the reflection that stood before him as truly himself. He crossed his arms at the thought of attending the Netherfield ball, and Elizabeth Bennet's small, gloved arms crossed in front of him. He could not feel any peace with the image. May as well haul him off to the asylum now.

But, no, he could not do that to Elizabeth's reputation. He needed to remain calm, and–if at all possible–act as naturally. Whatever that might mean. "Lizzy, are you not ready yet? The carriage has arrived and we are to make haste." He heard Jane's soft voice call through the closed door.

He sighed, swallowed, and took a final glance at Elizabeth's visage in the reflection. The irony was he looked lovely. He would attend the Netherfield ball and get through it, no matter how miserable and disagreeable he felt.

He grasped and turned the brass door knob, nearly running into Elizabeth's sister, Kitty in the hall. "Lizzy, you look very well indeed!"

"Thank you." His steps slowed to make certain the delicate slippers he wore did not slip off. How did women go anywhere in these slips of fabric?

Mrs. Bennet, who sat on a loveseat in the sitting room, pursued her lips when she saw him. "There, see, Lizzy? You look very nice when you make an effort and aren't traipsing around in the countryside muck."

Harridan, Darcy mused but did not respond. How on earth did Miss Bennet tolerate her mother? It was a wonder Elizabeth had such a mild and pleasant demeanor at all. A miracle of miracles, truly.

Because he was now Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy stood mutely while her sisters gathered in their ball finery and arranged themselves into the two carriages that would ferry the many Bennet females to Netherfield.

Because he was Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy said nothing on the carriage ride to Netherfield while Elizabeth's sisters prattled on about the upcoming ball. He sat, cramped, allowing the dull sister, Mary, to sit uncomfortably close to his person and did nothing.

Because he was not himself, he disembarked from the carriage last, patiently waiting as Jane gathered and herded all the girls into Netherfield's hall.

"Lizzy, are you all right?" Jane asked him, giving him an odd look, as they walked up the steps to Netherfield in the cool night air.

He smiled softly; Jane was a kindly girl. "Yes, I'm fine. Simply tired." Jane nodded but said nothing.

"You are not yourself, Lizzy."

This made him smile sadly. You have no idea.

Once inside, he searched eagerly for the figure of his former self, craning his neck around to all the tall gentlemen in the room. Alas, no Darcy. Of course, she was present, he told himself. She had nowhere else to go. Unless he had been called back to town on business. Perspiration broke out on his forehead thinking so. What if he was never in the same room with his old self again? There was no way he could travel as Elizabeth Bennet to London to find him. Then–thanks be!-he spied himself, standing crisply in his formal coat in the back of the room. Thank God.

He was stopped in his place by Lydia Bennet leaning forward to whisper to Kitty. "La, there's Denny! We must say hello to them so they know we are here. Do drop your handkerchief so that they might notice."

Were they truly so transparent?

He sighed before speaking. "Katherine, do NOT drop your handkerchief or use any other silly tricks. I can assure you the men have noticed all the young ladies present. Best to smile and appear to look as though you are having a most pleasant evening."

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Lord, are we really to take advice from Lizzy Bennet, one of the eldest spinsters present?"

Despite himself, Darcy smiled at the sibling barb. "I can assure you that young men are wise to the fallen handkerchief. Lydia, you do have a quick mind. Best to use it elsewhere than on country militia boys."

Kitty held her handkerchief and looked from one sister to the other with concern. "Do trust me," Darcy said.

"What does Lizzy know?" Lydia scoffed. A moment later, a tall figure appeared in front of them both.

"It's that Darcy fellow," Lydia said with surprise.

A tiny shock rang through him to be staring up at the face he knew for decades to be his own.

"Mr. Darcy," Darcy said evenly. "How are you this evening?"

Darcy watched his former lips curl a bit, but he wasn't sure if it was in annoyance or amusement.

"Miss Elizabeth Bennet, you look well." She eyed her sisters. "I see your whole family is in attendance."

Darcy nodded. "Indeed. Why would they not be?"

Elizabeth's eyes scanned each of the Bennet family and momentarily grew liquid. Did she miss them all? He considered how peaceful it would be to be away from the Bennet family bosom. But then, she was more accustomed to them than he was.

"How are Mr. and Miss Bingley?" Darcy asked. He was surprised by how much he longed for Bingley's company at the moment. He noticed his towhead in a crowd of people.

"They are very well. Miss Bingley is very… persevering."

This made Darcy's mouth twitch upward. "That sounds very accurate," he said lowly.

"I was not aware you two had such an understanding, but she has intimated it."

Darcy's stomach plummeted somewhere to his knees and he struggled to breathe. "Pardon? We certainly do not. Did she indicate otherwise?"

"No, but I daresay she behaves very comfortably around me. It's a bit worrying."

Darcy finally inhaled. "Indeed. There is no understanding, and if you please–do avoid being alone with her. I'd like to not return to myself and find myself and find I am in another kind of cage."

Darcy saw they were being circled from a distance by her oafish cousin, Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth followed his eye line to find her relative's scowl. She shuddered momentarily. "The sooner we are out of this predicament, the better for everyone involved. Although I think I am doing quite well as a gentleman." Her eyes shone.

Her verve made him both uneasy and thrilled him.

"Yes, well, be certain you do nothing to draw attention to yourself–or my self, rather."

Elizabeth smiled sweetly back at him. "I would not dream of it."

However, he knew she very much would.

Music began to swirl again and as the musicians started their next number. Elizabeth glanced around the room, a wicked smile curving her lips.

"Ah, the dance is starting. I believe I see at least one person who may wish to take a turn with Miss Bennet–or rather, you." She nodded in the direction of Mr. Collins, who stood just out of earshot, sweat dampening his forehead and making him appear slightly greasy.

Darcy saw Collins. "Oh, no—do not leave me with him, for the love of everything holy…."

Elizabeth smiled at him and he could see the hint of her inside his own dancing eyes. Hell and damnation, he'd rather take a turn with Mrs. Bennet, Lydia and Mary Bennet in that order before he danced with Collins.

"Look now, he is coming this way," she whispered to him.

Darcy saw the toad raise his chin and begin his approach.

"You must dance with me. This instant," Darcy demanded, but his feminine voice was soft and high and could not be heard over the music.

"Do enjoy yourself. I'm going to make myself useful," Elizabeth smiled again upward before stepping away. She strode lightly away from him to the plainest group of wallflowers in the back of the room, and approached a pale-looking girl with sallow skin and a too-plain dress. She was dancing–as him–with the wallflowers. Because of course she was.

As soon as he was solo, he saw Collins begin to slither toward him. Best to back away now. He saw Bingley dance by merrily. Everyone seemed to be having a good time except him.

"Excuse me, fair cousin," a voice said. Inside, his stomach tightened.

Mr. Collin's damp face appeared too close before him.

"Would you do me the honor of the dance?" he trilled happily.

Darcy fought the urge to lay the man out here and now in front of everyone.

"For the love of God, Collins, I'd rather be eaten by buzzards." He turned away. He needed support immediately, and though normally he would seek out Bingley, that was not an option. Mercifully, someone slipped a soft arm through his.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Collins, Elizabeth has promised me this dance," Jane was next to him–thank Christ–and pulled him away.

"Miss Lu–-Charlotte, how pleased I am to see you!"

"Yes, your expression makes that clear," she said, still smiling out at others. "Have a care, Lizzy. The man is your relative."

"The man is a toad."

"That may be, but your Mama has sent me over to inform you that he still deserves respect in public."

Charlotte's brows knit as she steered Darcy toward a sideboard lit with an abundance of expensive candles.

"You are welcome to dance with him then. I will not."