by Abigail K.

Rating: PG

Summary: Fate gives both Darcy and Elizabeth plenty of warning that the Meryton Assembly will be a momentous day for them both.

Author's Note: My great thanks to Leah for being my editor, giving me the support to actually post this story while still being firm enough to correct my errors. Any remaining mistakes are entirely my fault. I wish to dedicate this story to the memory of Winnie, a wonderful dancing fish, and I hope that Leah does not mind me taking such a liberty. I hope you all enjoy the story.

"Tonight's the night!" Bingley declared. "Tonight we make our formal introduction into Meryton society." He grinned, wiping some imaginary dust from the tabletop, and looking satisfied at the result.

He looked at his companions around the breakfast table. Caroline, his sister, smiled indulgently, but the warmth did not quite reach her eyes. She then turned her attention back to the food on her plate. A similar smile was present on the face of Mrs. Hurst, his other sister, though she failed to look up in the first place. Both seemed to imply that it was too early in the morning for such enthusiasm. Mr. Hurst was busy picking through the remnants of his breakfast, but as he rarely paid much attention to anyone anyway, this was hardly a surprise. Darcy, the final occupant of the breakfast table, seemed more concerned with drinking his tea than attending to his friend.

Failing to have received the response for which he was hoping, Bingley tried a different tactic.

"New faces, new people, surely it shall be a most stimulating experience." He said brightly. The response around the table was no better. Unfailing, he tried a more directed approach "What do you think, Caroline, shall we be the highlight of the ball?"

Caroline's smile was more genuine this time, if perhaps also a little more predatory. "I'm certain we shall, brother. Meryton has not our equal." She directed her smile at Mr. Darcy. "What do you think the evening may hold in store for us, Mr. Darcy?" Her voice was warm and familiar.

He frowned a little at her tone and shifted away from her a little. "It will be a dance, like most any other."

Caroline's smile dimmed a little.

"I do not see the point in spending so much time speculating on what is a fairly common gathering." He emphasized the word common, causing Caroline's smile to brighten again at the implied judgment. He drank the last of his tea. "Beside, no matter the manner of our speculation, the truth shall be known soon enough."

He brought the cup to the table, where it broke into two parts, leaving the severed handle in his hand. The halves made a small clink at they hit the table and wobbled for a second.

"I say, Darcy! There's no need to go breaking my china because you disapprove of a little gossip!" Bingley said in alarm.

Darcy released the handle of the cup from his grip, and it fell to the table beside the broken cup. In a startled and somewhat defensive tone he said, "I do not know what happened Charles. I assure you I used no undue force in handling it." He pushed against the upturned edge of one piece, and the half circle of china rocked back and forth. "It seems to have simply broken."

Caroline reached an elegant hand over and picked up one broken piece of the cup. "How very strange." She turned it around in her hand several times, and ran the tip of one finger along the edge. "It is a clean break, Charles. I'm sure if Mr. Darcy had used any force it would have shattered." She handed it to her brother. "I tell you Charles, this is what comes of buying inferior china. I warned you that this stuff will simply accumulate flaws, never betraying a thing, until it breaks entirely."

Her brother took the piece of china from her and had a look at it as well. "Your description makes me feel quite sorry for it, Caroline."

She sniffed in annoyance at his frivolous comment.

"Still", he continued, "I suppose we should be thankful that it at least decided to break when empty. Had it still held the tea as hot as you drink it, Darcy, you might have had an injury. Truly, it was stoic in hiding its injuries and valiant in sacrificing itself at this moment." His voice was heavy with emotion, but his eyes glittered with humor.

He handed the broken piece back to Mr. Darcy, who raised an eyebrow at Bingley. In a flat and serious tone, he said "Well then, the only proper tribute to such a noble, though poor-- " and this with a nod to Miss Bingley that brought a smile to her face, "hero is to lay it once again beside its partner." With that he placed the half down on the countertop next to the other. It rocked back and forth gently for a moment before coming to rest again.

"It is a pity that we cannot discover the hero's tale. Perhaps there was some omen written in the tea leaves?" Miss Bingley almost purred as she spoke, enjoying the game that brought her in such conversation with Mr. Darcy. She raised en eyebrow in inquiry.

Charles smiled in return, not seeing that his sister's charms were not directed at himself. "I dare say the strange manner of its destruction was ominous enough." His tone was light, delighting in the rare good mood of his sister.

Caroline smiled "Perhaps, but an omen of what?"

Bingley shrugged. "Doesn't have to be an omen of anything, just generally ominous."*

Caroline frowned as the joking moved beyond her capabilities. She glanced at the cup halves again, studying them for a moment. Picking them up, she tried for a moment to fit them together again. When the match was right, the break between the two pieces was imperceptible. She gave a small "ah!" of accomplishment. "Louisa," she asked, "what do you think it means?"

Louisa, who barely attended any conversation not about fashion or balls, looked at her sister, trying to determine the reason for her application. After a moment's thought she smiled. "I'd say it has to do with finding one's other half."

Caroline darted a quick look at Darcy before smiling in return.

Darcy started to rise from the table. As he rose, he interjected in a calm tone of voice "Perhaps instead it is about the realization of the inevitability of separation." He dropped his napkin on the floor as he left the room.

* - With apologies to Terry Pratchett for stealing this line.

Three miles away, Elizabeth Bennet and her sister wandered the garden behind their family estate of Longbourn. Inside the house, their mother had been fussing all morning about the possibilities of the Meryton assembly; who would be in the Netherfield party, how many would be single men, what their fortunes would be, and which imaginary bachelor would be paired with which of her daughters. By the time the sun was much up in the sky, Jane and Elizabeth, the two eldest, had escaped outside to avoid the feeling that their own mother was pricing them.

"Honestly Jane, if Mother goes on much longer, I shall go to the dance wearing a price around my neck as a necklace!" Elizabeth vented.

Jane smiled "Lizzy, you know she only says such things out of concern for us. She would not want us to marry unhappily, but knows we must marry well."

"I heard a good deal about how rich she would like these strangers to be, but not a word about how kind. I believe she is more interested in goods than goodness." Lizzy smiled to take the edge off of her words. Grinning at her sister, she continued "And before you say such things in her defense, for I know you will, Mother does not believe all people to be kind. That grace is yours alone."

Jane shook her head at her sister. "Tease me as you will, Lizzy, but I have every expectation of finding the Netherfield party agreeable, and not simply for their fortune. Father has met Mr. Bingley and has said no ill of him. His assessments are nearly as acerbic as your own, so that must speak well for our new neighbor's character."

"Be that as it may, for all of the fuss that Mother has raised it will be hard to greet them without thinking of Mother's plans for them. We may as well strew their path with flowers, to show them the path to the kingdom they are encouraged to conquer."

So saying, Lizzy reached out to a nearby rose bush for the fully opened white blossom nearest her, one of several that graced the bush. No sooner had the tip of her finger brushed against the stem of one flower than every petal fell off all of the blossoms and drifted down to the ground at her feet.

Lizzy drew back her hand in alarm, and Jane gave a small gasp of surprise. "I did not think I had touched it so hard." Elizabeth said in a small voice. She shook a few petals off of the tip of her shoes. She bit her lower lip in concern, and then asked her sister hopefully, "Do you think mother would take it as a bad sign, and I may therefore stay home?"

Jane laughed, and linking arms with her sister, started to walk further into the garden. She patted her sister's hand and said, "No matter what occurs tonight, I know I shall be well with you at my side, Lizzy."

Elizabeth leaned her head against Jane's shoulder. "Yes, sister, you may be sure I shall be at your side, if only to keep you between Mother and myself."

Jane laughed again.

As they walked on, Elizabeth turned her head to look behind her at the rose bush and the petals on the ground. For a moment her brow furrowed, she frowned, and then turned back to her sister, trying to ignore the feeling that the rose bush's leaves shook not with the breeze, but with laughter.

At Netherfield, Darcy had retired to the library to read for a while before preparing for that night's assembly. He hoped that by selecting a sufficiently edifying book he might build up a reserve of peace and thoughtfulness, as he expected to find little of either at the gathering that night. He pulled one book after another from the meager selection, and replaced them one after another as well, rejecting each as either too frivolous or too familiar.

When he finally found a book that answered to his tastes, he took it to the large armchair that sat near the empty fireplace. Settling himself down, he opened the book, found a comfortable position, and began to read.

The sounds of the house, already distant beyond the solid walls of the library, faded entirely out of Darcy's awareness. Instead, the new ideas and notions of the book absorbed him. The information entered his mind and moved around, changing the shape of his notions and thoughts. It was like an architect building a new wing, making a place where the new information might live. Soon, Darcy was barely aware of his own movements required to turn the pages. The little part of his mind that was not engrossed in the book hoped that he might be forgotten when it was time to go to the assembly, and he could be left in the library to read in peace.

As engrossed as he was in the book, it took him several moments to filter out the distinctive sound of whining from the other background noises, and to assign a meaning to it.

He looked around for a moment, and then rose to stand. There was nothing in the library that accounted for the noise. Opening the library door, he looked down to find a young but large-pawed pup of browns and blacks sitting at his feet. The adolescent dog squirmed, rose, and gave a halted leap, betraying the struggle between the impulses of the pup to jump on his master in greeting and the adult dog to display control and restraint. The dog sat again, and whined, communicating his conflict to his master.

"Cerberus, how did you get into this part of the house?" Darcy tried his best to sound severe.

The young dog tilted his head downward in shame, aided by the large ears he had not yet grown into.

"Come hound, your master is not displeased to see you. I only wonder how you came here." Darcy's voice was gentle, gentler than most of his friends would have expected to hear from him.

This was encouragement enough for the dog. The hound stood on all fours, and lolled his tongue in happiness. His puppyish impulses seemed in charge of his back end, which wagged furiously and tried to push forward, but the adult was equally in control of the front half, and stood firm. As a result, the dog moved side to side in a ridiculous fashion.

Darcy laughed, and laid a kind hand on the dog's head." Come, you foolish beast, you may sit with me in the library if you agree to behave like a gentleman."

The dog almost leapt into the library at the command, gave the chair a quick sniff, and then quietly settled himself on the floor with as much dignity as a dog whose bones were growing faster than his manners could muster. He watched intently as Darcy closed the door and returned to the chair. He thumped the ground with his tail once as Darcy sat down.

Darcy thumbed through the book for a moment in search of his place in the book. Finding it, he stretched out his legs and sighed. The dog moved his head near enough Darcy's boot to be aware if his master should stir, and fell asleep.

Though it took a few moments, Darcy was soon once again lost in the thoughts and patterns of the book.

For a long time there was little sound in the room other than pages being turned at intervals, and as little movement from the man or the dog as in the dust motes in the sunbeam cutting in from the window. Whatever activities occupied the rest of the household, the library was silent and unaffected, concerned with holding tight the information in its volumes. There was little more motion evident from the man and the dog than from the dust motes tumbling in the beams of sunlight at the windows.

After a while though, Darcy found his mind wandering from the topic of the book, ahead to the assembly to come. Darcy felt rather conflicted about the entire matter. Bingley had chosen to lease Netherfield on impulse, and while Bingley was not an unwise man, the results of his impulse were mixed at best. For a man such as Bingley, whose family fortune was new, the society of Hertfordshire would be a small enough one that he could easily rank himself near the highest in the county. Whether it was a society worth ruling was another question.

We may as well make the best of it. He is too affable and kind, Darcy thought, to make much of a name for himself in the fastest circles of London society based purely upon his charm, for they prefer men of brash boldness. He would be seen as a rich descendant of tradesman if he has no home to call his own. This way he may introduce himself as a residence of Netherfield, and at least has some color of a country lord of long standing. Perhaps he is truly better off starting small, with the society of this country town.

Still, what society! Darcy thought, scowling. There is not grand house in the area to lend the place a sense of unity, as Pemberley does to Derbyshire, or even Rosings in Kent. Netherfield might be suited to the task, He mused more gently, and if all goes well here, we may take it as training for integrating Bingley into the better circles of London next season. Darcy mulled over the possibilities of this approach some more. True, it will not be as good as a first introduction on that basis; he has been in London enough that more than a few have met him. Darcy sighed. Those he has not met, though, those are the most important, and they will think very little of him until the shine of new money is off of him. Hopefully he can carry himself with some dignity. Darcy grimaced to himself with ill humor. With his sisters spending habits and the Hurst's continued disinterest in managing life for themselves, he will end up with the debts worthy of old money is he is not careful. He may as well try for the rest of the appearance.

Having settled on a plan for the stay in Hertfordshire, Darcy began to speculate on what circumstances might hinder its completion. Though he had no great expectations for the society, he hoped that it would be found respectable enough not to be a detriment to Bingley's reputation, either. Bingley is too forgiving; it will fall to Caroline and myself to see what dangers needed to be avoided. The smiling faces of a number of the visitors they had already had came to his mind. The folks were genteel enough, for country folk, but few of them were acquaintances worth continuing in higher society. It was doubtful many of them spent much time in London, though, or at least within the same society in London. They were none of them remarkable, either in their faults or their virtues. There did seem to be rumors of a number of eligible young women, but while Bingley was one to fall half in love every other week, it was unlikely he'd find anyone here of a situation worthy to earn his whole heart. Hertfordshire is no place to be falling in love.

Hardly had Darcy finished musing on the thought than the dog at his feet launched into wakefulness and activity. With a voice meant to carryover the hills when in chase, the dog barked loudly, clearly in anxiety. He sprang to his feet and ran about the room, hackles up, racing from shadows to sunlight, as if a burglar had entered the house. His flews were pulled up and his teeth were showing. Somehow, the contortions of his face made his eyes seem to enlarge and glow. There was no longer anything puppyish in his demeanor in the least. His attitude said clearly that when he found whatever it was that had disturbed him, he would kill it.

Shocked and half fearful, Darcy stood, dropping his book, and looked for the source of commotion. "Cerberus!" he yelled, but the dog ignored him and continued the mad pursuit around the room. The dog ran round the room with such fury that his claws could be heard against the carpet, and with every body-shaking bark he flung froth and slobber about.

The resonance of his cry was all but shaking the windows, but seemingly without a focus to his anger. The dog ran first to one window, then to another, ran the perimeter of the room, and finally circled around Darcy's chair, growling. Darcy controlled the urge to step back away from him, half afraid that a movement on his part would set the dog chasing him.

Nose to the ground, Cerberus sniffed the rug, letting out menacing rumbles that sounded too great to have come from his half-grown chest. Although he had lowered his flews enough that his teeth were not fully bared, his muzzle still quivered, threatening to show them again when the object of his interest was located. Darcy watched the dog carefully as it inspected his feet. He considered gripping the dog by the scruff of the neck and shaking it to regain control, but fear of a bite from the suddenly unpredictable creature staid his hand.

Finally, the dog finished whatever inspection he had been making. He shook, ears flapping around his head from the motion, and sat. He blinked, looking calm and attentive as a beggar at the table, and wagged his tail. He looked to Darcy as if expecting praise for having captured his first prey in the hunt.

Before Darcy could relax, the library door was flung open as Bingley and several menservants spilled into the room, a tangle of fear and readiness. Several were brandishing what weapons could be found in a pinch: candlesticks, a cane, and a shovel.

"What has occurred? What is that barking about?" Bingley demanded.

Darcy, nearly as startled by the mobbish look of the servants as his dog's odd behavior a moment before, decided to dismiss his own concerns about the dog's activity for fear of the consequences to the hound. "Cerberus seems to have had a disturbing dream, and woke fearing burglars. I'm afraid he is too young to display much control over such impulses." He tried to sound casual.

He dropped one hand to rest on the dog's head, and if he hesitated for a moment before making contact, no one seemed to note it. The dog took the pat with good humor.

Bingley and the servants all looked at the dog, which simply looked back with innocent brown eyes. The brandished weapons were slowly lowered, with some reluctance. Embarrassment went back and forth on the faces of both Darcy and Bingley, for owning the beast that caused such a ruckus on one hand, and for responding so strongly on the other.

Bingley rubbed the back of his neck. "If you say that is all there is to it, Darcy, I will take your word for it, but I swear the beast was sounding an alarm as if a demon was loose in the house."

Darcy chuckled a little. "He's a bit young to be taking on demons yet, Bingley. He hasn't yet learned to not chase the squirrels in the wood."

Bingley smiled in response, and a little more of the tension left the room. "Perhaps it was a squirrel in the windows, and he thought it to be a demon?"

Even the menservants smiled at this and the room relaxed fully. The dog in question looked from man to man, wondering at the laughter and hoping it was praise. He wagged his tail, and looked as harmless as any dog ever had.

"Well, we'll let you return to your reading, Darcy, but please, put the hound outside. I fear being in the library has given him too many ideas."

Darcy nodded and gave the dog a push towards the servants. "He has not so much as chewed a book, let alone read one, but your point is taken." The nearest servant took the dog by the collar and led it from the room.

"Don't stay in here reading too long, we do have the assembly tonight."

As Bingley spoke the words, the dog looked back at his master once more and let out a whine, but the door was already closing behind him, and the sound was lost in the creaking of the door.

Elizabeth Bennet and her sister were trying to decide which dresses to wear to the assembly. Jane had chosen her dress several days before, as had Elizabeth. However, after their walk in the gardens that morning, Elizabeth was overcome with the urge to reconsider. She had laid several gowns out on the bed, and stood in her bedroom, staring at them each in turn, feeling the fabric, and biting her lower lip in confused thought.

"Jane, do you think the blue and white is too plain? It is not so showy as the green, but I think that perhaps it is more practical for dancing. I cannot decide between them."

Jane, who was content with her own decision but sat with her sister out of desire to lend support, looked at both dresses. "Lizzy, whatever you choose to wear shall become you quite well. Both dresses are good choices."

Elizabeth smiled at her sister. "If I had your good looks, Jane, that might be true." The words were warm with affection, and no hint of jealousy. "I did ask you for your opinion though dear, and not a compliment."

Jane blushed. "Lizzy, you do yourself no justice. Besides, dear sister, you have not usually been one to care overmuch about your appearance. Do you have any special expectations for this assembly, that you take such care to dress?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "No Jane, at least, none compared to those of Mother or Lydia and Kitty." Their youngest sisters had been in raptures all day, speaking of the cut of their gowns and their shoe-roses, in such a frenzy in preparing for the dance that it would be a wonder if they had any energy left for dancing itself.

Elizabeth rubbed her arms as if cold. "I just feel as if I've chosen the wrong outfit. I know it's trivial, but I just can't quite picture myself properly at the assembly tonight. I may not be as match-mad as Mamma, but I do want to make a good impression."

"Perhaps an older dress you might mend a little before tonight? There is still time."

Nodding at the suggestion, Elizabeth went to the closet at the corner of the room. She opened it, and gave a little gasp of surprise. Jane turned her head to look. Elizabeth swung the door open further, and smiled at what she was able to reveal.

In the closet, several of the gowns had fallen from their hangers, and lay in a pile on the floor. On top of the pile, curled up in evident satisfaction, was a black cat. It opened one feline eye just far enough to make it clear that while it was aware of the scrutiny, it had no intention of moving.

"I was going to look for my pale yellow dress, but I suspect now that it would be flecked with black." Elizabeth said with a laugh. "What are you doing in here, cat?"

The cat gave no answer, but twitched the tip of its tail to show that it did not appreciate being addresses in such an impertinent manner.

"It has probably tired itself out chasing mice in the attic." Jane said "It is certainly a sleek and healthy enough looking cat."

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow at the cat, who merely blinked back slowly in response. "Hmmm. I should hope it is such fine fur from eating mice enough to earn its keep. It had better not be planning on having kittens atop my dresses."

As if understanding the subject of their discourse, the cat rose and stretched, first arching and then stretching its spine, making it quite clear that it was in fine form and not fat of belly at all. It then yawned, sticking out a pink tongue in a rude manner, and showing many fine white teeth. Once properly on its paws, it regarded the two ladies with an evaluating gaze.

Elizabeth, who was not one to back down easily to such an assessment, knelt down to the cat's level and said "Well, my fine feline, have you decided if we are worthy of having our paths crossed by you for luck?"

"I thought black cats were bad luck, Lizzy." Jane said.

Lizzy extended her hand to the cat, which advanced and sniffed it. As the cat began rubbing against her hand, she said to her sister "Nonsense. Any creature with an ability to survive as well as a black cat must be good luck. They are wise creatures." Elizabeth scratched the cat behind the ears. The cat arched its neck and leaned into the contact." Have you not heard the saying that good luck comes to those who can make friends with strange cats?"*

"Maybe the wise cat might help you decide on a dress then, if you feel your own wisdom to be insufficient."

The cat stopped rubbing against Elizabeth's hand. It looked at her sharply, and she saw its yellow eyes dilate for a second. It flicked its tail sharply, moved around her with a sinuous grace, and with one leap landed on the bed. The cat then went to inspect the dresses, moving in a way that suggested that it knew full well how elegant it appeared. It gave each dress a delicate sniff, settled down beside the green dress, and began purring.

The two sisters stood silently for a moment. "Lizzy, were I differently minded I'd say that animal is a witch's familiar, right out of fable." Jane's voice was tinged with humor.

Elizabeth nodded. She gingerly reached out and picked up the green dress. "Who am I to ignore the advice of such a wise soul, though?"

Jane shook her head in wonder.

In the hall, Lydia Bennet could be heard screeching. "Kitty, you MUST lend me those ribbons. No others will do for my hair." There was a pause. "They'll look wrong on YOU, Kitty. They'd be much better for my complexion. Yours is too sallow."

The sisters turned to listen to the noise as it came closer.

The bedroom door burst open. "Lizzy, you MUST give me your pink ribbons, Kitty won't give me hers!" Lydia wailed. She was half-dressed, and her hair was in tangles. The maid stood in the hall behind her, holding a fistful of ribbons and a hairbrush, looking frazzled. Further back, Kitty stood in the hallway, and her splotched face indicated that Lydia had said something rather cruel in addition to the more audible comments already noted.

"Lydia, you may borrow my pink ribbons if you ask politely." Elizabeth answered steadily.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "May I PLEASE borrow your pink ribbons, dearest sister Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth frowned, and appeared to be on the verge of refusing the request. Jane reached over to her own drawer, and pulled out some colored ribbons. "Here Lydia, you may borrow any of mine."

Lydia grabbed the entire handful and raced down the hallway towards her own room, shouting "Thank you!" behind her. The forlorn maid trailed behind her. Kitty wandered off towards the room she shared with Mary.

Elizabeth sighed hugely, and shut the door.

Smiling, Jane said, "At least she said thank you."

When Elizabeth turned around to smile at her sister, she saw that the cat was gone.

* - The saying was actually from colonial America, but we'll assume the Bennets might have heard it.

The Netherfield Party had dressed and gathered in preparation to depart for the assembly. That is, most of them had gathered, in some fashion.

Mr. Darcy waited, groomed and prepared, doing his best to ignore the tick of the hall clock.

Mr. Hurst had slumped in a chair to conserve energy, and was nearly asleep.

Bingley had arrived several times, but kept wandering off again in search of "one or two things still forgotten."

His sisters kept appearing in the hallway at the top of the stairs, traveling back and forth between each other's rooms.

Bingley, in one of the few periods longer than a breath that he stood in the hallway to wait upon them, scolded them for delaying their departure. They had replied that there was no use in making an early appearance as "no one of importance would be waiting for them." When Bingley stressed that he was waiting on them, they hushed him with a "Brother, we would make a worse impression appearing on time but unprepared than to arrive fashionably late but impeccably dressed!"

Bingley had huffed and nearly lost his temper, but then decided to take the opportunity to change his fob again. Darcy might have been quite put out by these delays, but he had known the family for some time, and had brought a book with him.

Charles returned soon, having changed his shoes instead of his fob, but fearing further delays, Darcy forbore to comment on it. Bingley looked around, walked over to Hurst, and kicked his feet in a friendly fashion. "We're nearly ready to go, Hurst! Should be a good bit of fun, won't it?"

Hurst shifted in the chair, grumbled, and sat up. "I say Charles, there's no need to yell."

"I wasn't yelling." Charles looked at Darcy "Darcy, I wasn't yelling, was I?"

Darcy didn't look up from his book. "No Charles, you were not."

"If I was yelling, I should say it was purely from anticipation of the evening," Charles said smartly. Grinning, he said, "Almost makes me wish I had yelled, just to make my feelings on the matter clear!"

Hurst looked at him for a moment, and put his head back down.

Bingley might have had no one with whom to share his anticipation had not his sisters come down the stairs. Fully aware of the elegance of their entrance, Caroline and Louisa fairly glided down, heads held high. Evidently the idea of their presumed social status at the assembly had finally reached their minds, and they managed to appear almost regal. Darcy even put down his book to watch them descend, and Caroline managed to hold her head even higher when she saw that she had his regard. Even Hurst managed to stand to greet his wife, who went to his side.

"You do look breath taking, Caroline," said her brother. Caroline smiled warmly.

He offered her his arm, which she took. Mr. Darcy came to stand near them.

"Mr. Darcy, what a charming jacket you wear tonight. I have not seen it before." Her sister leaned over to her, to whisper in an insufficiently quiet voice, "It is a good match for your dress."

Darcy tugged on his jacket self-consciously.

Having finally gathered the entire party together, Bingley was impatient to get them out the door. He flung the door open himself, and cried, "Come now, destiny awaits!"

A gust of wind blew in from the opened door, raced around the hall, and blew out every light.

Bingley managed a laugh at the odd drama of it, but in the darkness, Darcy was glad for the cover to hide his expression of apprehension and unease.

At the Meryton assembly, the revelers paused at the end of a set. Good-natured young ladies turned to bow to the musicians in thanks, and then to rush to take their place for the next pattern. Along the walls, those disinclined or unable to dance talk in loud conversations. A knot of gentleman stood swapping stories that seemed to involve a great deal of drink and wide arm movements, and nearby, young ladies giggled and whispered together like a gaggle of chickens searching for morsels in the ground. After the dancers had gathered and the musicians found their places and their breath, the music resumed and the evening progressed.

The two eldest Bennet sisters, with their friend Charlotte Lucas, occupied the small corner of the assembly room where the music could not manage to invade their quiet. Elizabeth seemed to have some trouble finding a place of comfort though. One moment she stood, and another she sat, and between she merely paced. When the musicians had ended the last set of music with a loud flourish, she had almost jumped out of her skin in alarm.

Since arriving at the ball, Elizabeth had been unsettled. She had taken up a position nearly tucked into the corner, against the wall. Even so, as she spoke she often paused to look behind her, and her hands were nervously plucking at the fabric of her gown.

"Lizzy, you are behaving as if this was your first ball and you did not like the look of your partner," Charlotte scolded.

Lizzy shook her head ruefully. "Charlotte, I remember my first ball, and I did not like my partner, but it did not feel like this."

"How does it fell then? Are you unwell?" Charlotte's voice was full of concern.

Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck. "It feels as if. . . " She turned to look at the wall behind her again. "It feels as if it was late winter, and there are mice running in the walls, and at any moment they will come through." This was said too quickly, and Lizzy's expression was pleading, knowing how odd it sounded.

Charlotte's expression upon hearing this description increased in worry. She took Elizabeth's hand and led her to a seat. She put her hand to Elizabeth's forehead, and looked her in the eyes. "You are as tense as a harp string, but I detect no fever."

Jane took the seat next to her sister. "Would you like to go home?" She asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, as odd as I feel, I know it would be worse to go home." Her tone was emphatic. Jane and Charlotte exchanged looks over this cryptic remark.

Jane took her sister's free hand in her own. "Lizzy, perhaps it would be best to go home, to rest a little."

In something more like her normal humor, Lizzy replied, "Oh Jane, your concern is touching, but you know that Mother would never allow me to leave until after the party from Netherfield arrives."

Jane smiled, relieved to hear her sister sounding more her usual self. Still, she kept a hold of her sister's hand.

Charlotte smiled as well, and when she saw one of her brothers passing by, caught his eye. "Lizzy, perhaps what you need to settle your nerves is a little activity. Why not take a turn during the next set?"

Charlotte's brother Thomas approached. He and the Bennet sisters were good acquaintances of many years, and while there was no question of romantic involvement, they often stood as partners in the local dances. Thomas had overheard his sister's comment, and smiled at Lizzy. "Miss Bennet, you have been pacing this room since your arrival. Surely it would be better to pace on the dance floor, where such activity is expected?"

Elizabeth smiled at the concern of all of her friends. She nodded, humored by their actions. She extended her hand to Thomas. "Yes, Mister Lucas, I will join you for the next dance, if only to escape the ministrations of my companions."

Thomas smiled, and led Lizzy to the dance floor. They took their places opposite each other at the beginning of the set.

However, as the music started, a wave of dizziness and what felt like nausea washed over Lizzy. Across from her, Thomas looked as worried as his sister had a moment before. Elizabeth could not help but feel that there was something simply wrong about his face, it seemed indistinct, too light, as if the features should be different.

She had time to think this is not right as she took her first step forward when the dance reached them. Then her shoe caught in the hem of her dress, she stumbled, and fell heavily on the floor.

Around her, the music stopped as people turned to stare.

In the carriage of the Netherfield party, the journey was going almost as badly as possible. The horses, which had been calm as plow mules at the estate, had started to fight the driver for control almost as soon as their hooves had left the Netherfield property on the road to the assembly. They would slow their pace at intervals, only to lurch forward again into a near mad gallop. Pulling on the reins only seemed to encourage them to fight, and they aimed for every rut and bump in the road in revenge.

Caroline cried out for the firmer handling of the whip, but the horses cried in such distress at the first fall of the whip that she covered her ears and ordered the treatment stopped nearly immediately.

Instead, the various occupants braced themselves as well as they could manage. Darcy kept one arm raised, forearm braced against the carriage side, to prevent himself from flying about as the carriage heaved like a ship in a storm. He bit back the curses that fought their way to the top of his throat as his head banged against the carriage door again. He could hear the carriage driver alternately demanding and begging the horses to behave, and Darcy was amazed that the man managed to keep his language clean. At least there was not that offense to add to Caroline's disgust, he thought, as he looked at the foul expression on that lady's face. Darcy was inclined to agree with her feelings, but he had ridden with the driver and horses before. He had been impressed with their combined ability, and did not know where to lay the blame. He only hoped the journey would not be much longer.

Caroline and Louisa both gasped and cried at each new insult to their bodies when the carriage swayed suddenly. Bingley was trying his best to maintain an optimistic countenance, occasionally peering out the window and declaring it would not be much further. He looked to the footman once or twice, but chose not to halt the carriage. Darcy merely glowered, thinking that the ride was probably no more unpleasant than the event to which it took them, and it was rather ironic that it should prove so hard a journey to reach a place to which he was not certain he wished to go in the first place. Only Hurst, who must have been used to dealing with unsteadiness, seemed unaffected.

When the carriage finally came to a stop, the occupants were rattled enough that it took them all a moment to release their grip on whatever they had clutched for support. They looked around, and each spent a moment readjusting tousled hair and rumpled clothes. Caroline and Louisa were both breathing heavily, while Darcy had to remember to unclench his jaw to breathe at all.

The footman came quickly to the door and looked inside before opening it. "Are you all in one piece in there?" he asked.

Bingley nodded and muttered, "Yes, yes, we all survived." Caroline glared at him in displeasure at his answer, but could hardly contradict him, given the response.

The footman nodded and opened the door to help the passengers out. As he helped each out he hurriedly explained, "I do not know what was wrong with the horses, Sirs, I've never seen a team behave in such a fashion in my life."

Caroline gave him an icy glare as she stepped out. Darcy waved him off and stepped down without assistance.

At the front of the carriage, the driver had dismounted and was inspecting the team. The horses had worked themselves into a lather in the short journey, and stood about with wide, rolling eyes, and ears laid back. They twitched and shivered as if a plague of flies were about them, gnawing at their skins.

Bingley shook off his own tension and walked to the man's side. "Are they all right?"

The driver shook his head. "I don't know, Sir. I thought one of them might have thrown a shoe, but they won't let me check 'em." He gestured to the nearest horse, who was shifting from foot to foot quickly, too light on his feet by half, and did indeed look more likely to kick the human who dared try to touch his feet than to submit to inspection.

Bingley took a step closer to the horse, but it shook its head, ringing the bridle, and the other horses joined it. Each horse stamped its feet and shook its mane, and threatened to rear in the traces if another move was made towards them.

"What behavior!" Bingley exclaimed. "I've never seen any horses act like this."

Beside him, Caroline drawled, "Perhaps it's the rough country setting that has them distressed."

The driver ducked his head in subservience as he spoke up, "Begging your pardon ma'am, but the roads here were quite good. They had to nearly drive off it to hit some of those bumps." He cast a suspicious eye at the nearest horse, which was pulling his lips back in response, showing large teeth. "I'd swear the beasts were aiming for them. They worked their bits between their teeth and wouldn't listen to a thing I said to them. I could feel it right up through the traces." The horse flicked an ear at this comment.

Caroline threw her hands in the air at this talk, and walked off.

Darcy, who had been standing nearby, asked "Could something in the area have frightened them?" thinking of the odd gust of wind earlier.

The driver looked around and said "Well, sometimes a storm coming or a wild animal nearby, those can get into them in a way, but ... " He left the sentence unfinished, looking upwards. They sky was still clear, and with the lights and noise of the assembly, it was unlikely there were any animals nearby.

"Do you think they'll be back in sorts in time for the journey home?" Charles asked.

"I hope so, Sir, but I don't know what has them out of sorts now." The driver sounded quite distressed.

Darcy was about to ask another question when Caroline's voice, very close to him, said, "Mr. Darcy, turn around and look at the hall!"

Affronted by her familiarity, Darcy turned to speak sharply to her, when the object of her remark caught his attention. The assembly hall was indeed quite lit up, but at almost every window faces peered out at them. Some of the watchers regarded them with basic curiosity and some with open amusement. The people inside were clearly speaking with each other, and some pointed to the Netherfield group as they spoke. As if it weren't enough that we are to be made to suffer their attentions inside the assembly, Darcy thought, but we must provide amusement for them while we are outside as well.

"Come Bingley, it's time to stop fiddling with the horses and attend the assembly. That is why we are here, after all," Darcy commanded.

Bingley whipped his head around like a dog hearing a whistle, and hurried over. "Oh yes! The assembly! I had nearly forgotten!" With evident delight he took his sister's arm and started in towards the gathering. Louisa Hurst, who had been administering to her husband, came along behind them quickly enough. Darcy brought up the rear, sparing one last glance behind at the trembling horses before entering the lit-up entrance to the assembly room.

Back at the horses, the driver was finally able to grab the bridle of the nearest horse. The horse turned one large liquid eye to him, and then its entire demeanor changed. The horses, as a group, let out a wuffling sigh, and dropped their heads. The tension ran out of them as visibly as if someone had poured water over their backs. After a last quiver and shake, the horses stood as solidly as if made of marble, heads dropping, ears relaxed, and looking as exhausted as if they had plowed their way to the spot they stood on through a hundred miles of snow.

The footman, who had moved forward to help, took a step back, expecting a new burst of odd behavior.

The horse nearest the driver took a short little breath, and leaned his head out towards his master. The driver took a look at the horse's sorry expression and stepped closer, the horse bumped his nose against the man's chest, a gesture of friendship and apology. The driver rubbed the horse's forehead, and mumbled little nothings in return.

The footman stepped closer again, and gingerly touched another member of the team. That horse barely flicked him a glance, and hung his head low. "What in the world was that about?" asked the footman.

The driver shrugged, and started leading the horses away. They followed as placidly as if they had no spirit left in them, nor ever would again. "My Gran, now he knew horses, but he was the superstitious type. He'd say when they was acting like that, well, something was riding them. Seems like whatever it was, it got off again."

The footman, made uneasy by the odd behavior and odder talk, looked around in the shadows before replying. "Well then, where did it go?"

Inside the assembly room, Charlotte, Jane, and Mrs. Bennett clustered around Elizabeth as she sat in a chair on the side of the assembly room. Jane knelt on the floor by her side, and examined Elizabeth's ankle. "I don't think it is injured." She pronounced.

"Good, nothing hurt worse than my pride." Elizabeth said.

Mrs. Bennett scowled "Make jokes if you wish, Elizabeth, but you made quite a fool of yourself out there. We may at least be thankful that Mr. Bingley was not here to see such a display. I'll not have him thinking that all my daughters are as clumsy as you. I don't know what got into you to behave so oddly."

Elizabeth shot an angry look back at her mother. "No, I suppose Mr. Bingley shall have to judge us by the much more normal foolishness we display, Mother."

"Oh, I do not know what you are talking about! I should hope you do not go on this way once the Netherfield party arrives."

"I will stay with her and see that she is well, Mother." Jane said, smiling at Elizabeth.

"Most certainly not! It's bad enough that Lizzy is unfit to dance tonight, I'll not have you missing your chance to catch a fine husband by wasting your time sitting here with her. You MUST dance with Mr. Bingley, Jane. He is sure to be charmed by you. Let Charlotte sit out instead, she's unlikely to miss much." With that, Mrs. Bennett grabbed her eldest daughter and dragged her off to await the entrance of Mr. Bingley and his guests.

Charlotte managed to hide her shock at Mrs. Bennet's words, but Elizabeth could not hide her own shame. Blushing, she said "Excuse her, Charlotte, for my sake. I may be the one who fell, but I fear my mother is the one who managed to addle her wits."

"Do not worry, Lizzy, for I should say that my own mother's comments are often no kinder."

Elizabeth raised one eyebrow. "She says such things about you?"

Charlotte smiled "No, Lizzy, about you."

Elizabeth's expression was one of mock-outrage "What does she say against me? I shall have to call her out!"

"She says you are too impertinent for your own good, and it will land you in trouble."

"Well, I should say something devastating in response to that, but I fear it would only prove her point."

Both girls giggled in a manner that gave lie to their years.

"Lizzy, are you all right? I haven't seen you stumble at dancing for years." Charlotte's tone was serious again.

Elizabeth looked to the ceiling as if for answers. "It is as if my skin has been scoured and does not fit right anymore." She looked around the ballroom. "Everything is a little too bright and too loud, and all of it is moving far too fast."

Charlotte looked more and more concerned. Elizabeth looked at her, smiled kindly, and patted her hand. "It's better that I sit here and rest, you truly do not need to stay with me. Please, go have some fun."

What reply Charlotte might have given was lost, as at that moment Lydia raced over breathlessly, and said, "The Netherfield party has arrived, and among them is a man who is worth ten thousand a year. His name is Mr. Darcy!"

Elizabeth's face went grey as ashes. She rose and walked with her friend to find her mother.

When Mr. Darcy had entered the hall, a servant had stepped forward and taken his coat. From the way he felt afterwards, Darcy would have said he had taken much more. The moment his coat was shed and he stepped fully into the light and warmth of the dance, Darcy felt as if he was slightly empty, not quite heavy enough to touch the ground properly, and as if the light from the candles was pouring through him. The music that came from the assembly room itself grated oddly in his ears, and left him feeling uneasy. It was a well-known tune, nothing so special that he would be surprised to hear it played at such an assembly, but he was having trouble placing it. The notes did not fall where he expected them to, and part of his mind was occupied by trying to guess what the next note would be.

Caroline leaned close to him. "I dare say, Mr. Darcy, we shall be quite safe here, don't you think?" She smiled a tight-lipped smile.

He frowned. When had he heard her say that before? The feeling of deja vu crawled along his scalp and into his brain. He nearly stumbled as he turned to survey the room. The dancers in the middle of the hall turned like organized snowflakes. His eyes nearly watered trying to follow them. He felt drunk. He felt sick. Something is not right here, he thought.

Bingley was speaking to someone nearby, being introduced to the local squire. Darcy mouthed the word Lucas, wondering how he knew the name when he was certain he hadn't heard a word of the conversation, nor seen the man before in his life.

As he looked around the room, the people about him seemed to become less and less distinct. It was as if he was underwater, the shapes of the things around him were blurred and the people's speech was hard to decipher. The air glittered, or perhaps it was the music, but he drew his gaze around the room, looking for . . . something. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs, and racing blood echoing in his ears.

In the distance, he saw her. She was the single focused point in the mad swirl. She was water in the desert. She was like a candle in a room growing dark. He blinked hard, several times. Who was she, and how did he know her?

With little conscious thought or any concern for his companions, he moved in her direction.

Elizabeth stood by her mother, waiting for the Netherfield party to reach them. Mrs. Bennett was instructing each of her girls to stand up properly and to smile, but Lizzy had not heard her. It was as if she was listening to the sound of the rain on the roof, and the endless, patternless noise had shifted, each drop becoming as distinct as a key on a pianoforte, and it had started playing a familiar tune. It was like the moment when a harvested field erupts into a flock of blackbirds taking wing into the autumn sky. Something was moving; something was coming out of nothing.

The Netherfield party came to meet them. Mr. Bingley spoke warmly with Mrs. Bennett, and was introduced to Jane. Behind him, though, was another man, and when he looked at her, Elizabeth felt like a doe the moment it spotted a wolf in the woods. No, she thought, as her feelings tumbled about, a wolf that has just spotted another wolf. Without thinking, she reached her hand out towards him in greeting.

He reached his hand out in response.

They touched-

-And from the clear sky, lightning struck both inside and out.

She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.

Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. -- I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner.

I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.

. . .and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.

I have therefore made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all -- and now despise me if you dare.

Indeed I do not dare.

Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at!

I am perfectly convinced by it that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself without disguise.

And your defect is a propensity to hate every body.

And yours is willfully to misunderstand them.

To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! -- Do not wish me such an evil.

Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?

We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room, and be handed down to posterity with all the éclat of a proverb.

Sir William could not have interrupted any two people in the room who had less to say for themselves.

I do not get on at all. I hear such different accounts of you as puzzle me exceedingly.

I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours,

My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.

I have had the pleasure of your acquaintance long enough to know, that you find great enjoyment in occasionally professing opinions which in fact are not your own.

I am not afraid of you.

We neither of us perform to strangers.

You cannot have a right to such very strong local attachment. You cannot have been always at Longbourn.

In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.

I have never desired your good opinion, and you have certainly bestowed it most unwillingly.

You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.

You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been.

I have not the smallest hope.

It is every way horrible!

Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours.

My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.

For you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth!

I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago.

The members of the assembly gasped and jumped at the sudden illumination of the room in stark lightning, and a few trembled as the thunder deafened the room for a moment. As it faded, a few people laughed at their own startled responses, ladies fanned themselves to calm their rushing heartbeats, and those who had been looking in the direction of the windows blinked rapidly to restore their vision. No one spared much of a look for the two people who were standing, holding hands, staring at each other as if the ground had opened beneath them and the point of contact they shared was the only remaining stability in the world.

Elizabeth drew her hand backwards as if she had grabbed a hot iron.

Mr. Darcy stood as still as if a knife were pressed against his back.

Elizabeth looked around in confusion.

Mr. Darcy continued to stare at her in shock.

Elizabeth started to mouth some words, but before the first sound could be uttered, she staggered to one side, colliding with her sister. Jane reached to catch Elizabeth, and gasped when she saw her sister's expression.

At her gasp, the other members of the party turned to see Elizabeth blinking and staggering as if she had been struck. Charlotte was soon at her side as well, asking after her health. Even Mrs. Bennett drew her attention away from her introduction to Caroline Bingley and came to her daughter's side.

Mr. Darcy seemed almost normal at first except for a remarkable rigidity. Bingley placed one hand upon Darcy's shoulder and found that the man vibrated like a drum skin. As he looked, Mr. Darcy began to tremble visibly. Charles Bingley spoke his friend's name, but received no response.

Charlotte and Jane began to lead Elizabeth away to the chair she had occupied a moment before.

Charles spoke Mr. Darcy's name again, louder, and this time gave his shoulder a slight shake. Darcy seemed to break free of whatever had held him, and staggered. Bowing his head, he raised a hand to his face and covered his eyes. Caroline by this time had also noticed something was amiss, and was at his side.

"I'll take him to have some punch," she said to her brother. She began leading Mr. Darcy away gently. She did not notice as he followed her, seemingly blindly, that for a moment he reached out one hand in the direction that Elizabeth's friends were taking her.

Nor did they notice that even in her confused state Elizabeth reached a hand out in response.

After seeing Jane and Charlotte leading away Elizabeth, Mrs. Bennett turned to Mr. Bingley and said, "Oh, Mr. Bingley I do apologize for Elizabeth's odd behavior. She had had quite a trying night, and she is of such a delicate constitution." She risked a nervous glance to see that Elizabeth was now seated quietly by the wall and would hopefully cause no further embarrassment. "I would not want you to think such behavior typical of my girls, they are normally such fine, healthy creatures." With a nervous grin, she added, "I do hope your friend will be soon recovered as well, I hope dearest delicate Elizabeth hasn't distressed him too much."

Mr. Bingley, who was paying more mind to Darcy's progress towards the punch bowl than Mrs. Bennett ravings, muttered to Mrs. Bennett that there was no need to apologize; Mr. Darcy was merely reacting badly after a rough carriage ride. He was certain that both parties would be fine after a rest.

Darcy was aware of little else than Caroline pushing a glass of punch into his hands, and telling him to drink, as if he were a child. He blinked, still unable to clear his vision, and was unable to unravel the sense behind her words.

Elizabeth let herself be led to the chair, for she wanted a moment to sort out what she had just experienced. What was that? Where was she now? It was as if someone had come up to her and shouted the most important words of her life at her, and yet no one around her seemed to have heard anything.

Across the room, Darcy was trying to sort out his own feelings. Those images, they were memories, but nothing he had ever done. Had he? What was going on? What did it mean? He managed to clear his head enough to see what was in front of him. It was Caroline, offering him another glass of punch. That, he thought clearly, is not what I want to see. He shook his head no, and longing for the sight of clear skies, headed out onto the balcony.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, trying to sort out the meaning behind the flash of understanding, but the noise of the hall kept intruding. She rose, and leaned heavily on Jane's arm. "I need some fresh air," she said. Jane nodded and helped her sister move towards the balcony.

Outside, the air was cooler, if only because of the absence of so many heated bodies. Elizabeth stopped to take a large breath, and then slowly released it. She moved to the solid stone railing, feeling the firm coldness of it as a reassurance, and rested there, just past the spill of light on the ground from the opened doors behind her.

Jane waited until her sister was leaning against the balcony railing, head down, before speaking. She put a hand to Elizabeth's back, and for a moment felt the rhythm of her sister's ribs expanding and contracting with each breath. It was somewhat unsteady, and Jane guessed that Elizabeth was close to crying. She might need a moment alone, Jane thought, knowing how her sister hated to be seen crying. "Lizzy, I'll fetch you a glass of punch to drink. You could use something."

Elizabeth nodded in acknowledgment. As Jane left to fetch the drink, she paid no attention to the figure leaning against the wall just a step further into the darkness than her sister.

Darcy moved forward and then leaned heavily on the balcony railing. He watched the lights in the distance and the trees swaying in the night breeze. They were indistinct masses of movement, and the sound of their creaking branches was lost beneath that of the assembly behind him. He breathed heavily for a moment, as if he was unaware of the presence of the woman only apace away. Without turning to look at her, he merely said, "Elizabeth."

Elizabeth put her face down into the palms of her hands as if her head ached, and rubbed at her eyelids. "Fitzwilliam."

He looked at her for a moment, with the silence of someone who has too many things to say to be able to decide where to start. "Did I truly . . . " He let it trail off, not even certain which of the myriad of images he was asking about.

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes." She took her hands away from her face and placed them on the railing. Then, with a smile, added, "As much as I did."

He had turned his head away again; looking at her was overwhelming him already, but his hand on the railing came closer to hers. Without either one seeming to be aware of it, they both spread out their fingers until the tip of her smallest finger just brushed against his.

"I cannot explain it."

"Nor can I."

Neither was sure who had said what. Perhaps they both had spoken in unison. They turned toward each other and simply stared at each other's faces for a moment.

Elizabeth spoke first. "What shall we do now?"

Darcy smiled at her, but his features were not at ease. "Will you tell me how we might walk back into the assembly hall and behave as if we are strangers?"

Elizabeth turned her head enough to be able to look over her shoulder, through the doorway to the assembly room. Jane could be seen making her way through the crowd, holding a glass of punch. Lydia flirted with several men, and ran about the room wildly. Caroline and Louisa stood to one side, smirking and whispering with each other. Bingley chatted amiably with Charlotte Lucas, but his gaze drifted to Jane, who had not yet noticed him. Mrs. Bennett stopped Jane for a moment to speak with her, probably about the oddness of Elizabeth's behavior.

Their futures, as she saw them, blotted around each of them like thin paint on a canvas. Jane would spend months heartbroken, but would eventually find happiness with Bingley. Lydia would foolishly elope and be forced to marry a man no other woman could respect. Caroline and Louisa would be friendly when it suited them, and conniving when it did not, all the time judging everyone around them. Charles, their brother, would allow himself to be guided by them, but would eventually find his way back to Jane. Charlotte, always kind and practical, would marry Elizabeth's foolish cousin for the sake of a respectable living. As for herself, she paused, thinking . . . .

She'd judge a good man to be cruel and a selfish man to be trustworthy. She'd learn how in love with her own intellect she had been, and have to give that up to love a man who had given up his own vanity to be with her. In some way, it had already happened. All of the memories were already there. Knowing what could be, Elizabeth felt that walking back into the room as if she did not know would be like walking into a trap.

What then might be instead?

"Are you sure we are not mad?" she finally asked. "Surely we are either in the future, imagining the past, or in the past, imagining the future."

"Perhaps we have merely been given the gift of knowledge."

"You are a gift and a joy, but the rest. . . ." Elizabeth looked worried. "I feel rather like a Cassandra.* Can we even change the future? If we know the future, must it not already be set?"

Darcy smiled. "I should hope not. I should hope you would not refuse me if I ask for your hand. It would be very hard to propose knowing I was to be refused. It was hard enough when I thought I was to be accepted."

Elizabeth did her best to pretend offense. "I should hope you have learned to propose properly the first time, Sir!"

Darcy laughed, knowing her impertinence to be one of her charms, knowing her too well to be insulted. "Yet, when I asked and was accepted, it was by way of reference to the first proposal. I have never proposed properly before."

"Well then, that shall have to be the first thing we change."

"I think perhaps the first thing we should change is that tonight, I will ask you to dance."

Elizabeth lifted her chin and gave him an arch look. "And what, Sir, makes you believe I will accept your offer to dance?"

Darcy grinned at her, feeling strangely liberated by his new knowledge. "I believe you will accept me because it is only proper for a woman to dance with her husband." Before she could make further comment, he leaned forward and kissed her.

All of the knowledge of her that he had, for all of the ways he knew her to smile, all of the memories of stolen kisses before their wedding and passionate ones afterwards, all of this was present in this, their first kiss.

When he pulled away, Elizabeth's expression was both joyful and more relaxed. He smiled again, feeling as if the world around him had finally solidified again.

Elizabeth smiled wickedly though, and said, "This is still not the proper way to ask a woman to marry you, Sir."

Darcy made a show of rolling his eyes. He took her hand in his, and in a humoring voice said "Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth- "

She shook her head. "You've tried that one already."

He nearly dropped her hand, and this time he was the one to feign offense. "You are a most exasperating woman. I am trying to save us some heartache, can you not be a little less difficult?"

"Yes, but not entirely without difficulty. After all, if we are to distill months of rather unconventional courtship down to a few moments, there must still be a little difficulty." Her smile, threatening to break into laughter, made it hard to take her seriously.

Darcy placed a small, tender kiss on her forehead. "I should hope that the liveliness you bring out in me outweighs the aging effect of your impertinence."

"Well Sir, we shall see, as soon as I have accepted your proper proposal."

Grinning, he knelt down before her, and in a pleading stance, said "My Elizabeth, I can honestly say that I can no longer picture my future without you, and I know fully what merry hell you will bring to my life. With this knowledge, I wish for nothing greater than to spend the rest of my years with you, to earn your smiles as often as I may, and to know that I have made the best of choices possible out of the many paths my life could have taken. Will you do me the great honor of accepting my offer of marriage?"

Elizabeth looked at him for a moment, eyes brimming with unexpected tears. Seeing it as the only possible course, she knelt down beside him. Wrapping her arms around him in a sheltering embrace, which he warmly returned, she said only, "Yes."

A small noise brought their attention back to the assembly room. Jane, who had finally managed her way through the crowd, stood in the doorway and stared at them in shock. She held the now useless cup of punch in her hands.

Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged a look. Disentangling themselves, they carefully helped each other to their feet. Darcy calmly spent a moment dusting off his knees while Elizabeth tugged at the shoulders of her gown to correct the hang of it.

Once they were arranged again, Darcy held his arm out for Elizabeth, who delicately placed her own around it. He began leading her into the assembly room. As they walked past Jane, who still stood in shock, Elizabeth said lightly, "Do not worry, Jane, for we are to be married."

Darcy smiled as he led his love to the dance floor to begin a new pattern.

The End.

* In Roman mythology, a woman who was cursed to foresee the future but be disbelieved whenever she attempted to warn anyone.

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