Note: while I'm still working on my WIP, I thought I could share another short story. This one is already written, I plan to post twice a week. Why not all chapters at once? Simply because reading about the readers' reactions is, for me, part of the fun of writing fan fiction. Hm. That was not subtle at all, but I can't say I'm sorry about it.

Specific warnings: you may not like my portrayal of some of the characters. I endeavoured to have them all close-ish to Canon, at least in terms of behaviour, but given their different circumstances or motivations (and the fact I'm not the Great Jane Austen) you may find them vastly out of character (well, plus there's the fact that some of them are without contest out of character).

And now, on to the story. We begin at Hunsford; up to then everything happened more or less as it did in P&P, save for a few details.

Pride and Prejudice, chapter 34:

"[...] Do you think that any consideration would tempt me to accept the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps for ever, the happiness of a most beloved sister?"

As she pronounced these words Mr. Darcy changed colour; but the emotion was short, and he listened without attempting to interrupt her while she continued -

"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you. No motive can excuse the unjust and ungenerous part you acted there. You dare not, you cannot deny that you have been the principal, if not the only means of dividing them from each other - of exposing one to the censure of the world for caprice and instability, the other to its derision for disappointed hopes, and involving them both in misery of the acutest kind."

She paused, and saw with no slight indignation that he was listening with an air which proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse. He even looked at her with a smile of affected incredulity.

"Can you deny that you have done it?" she repeated.

With assumed tranquillity he then replied, "I have no wish of denying that I did everything in my power to separate my friend from your sister, or that I rejoice in my success."

"However," he went on, "I do deny it had any repercussions on their happiness—except in increasing my friend's felicity, perhaps. Oh, I can well believe that her hopes might be disappointed, but her heart is faring quite well, I dare say. Misery of the acutest kind? I doubt it." He now had a look of disgust on his face. Elizabeth was incensed.

"How dare you! How can you say such a thing and be so dismissive of my sister's feelings!"

They both stood, glaring at each other, neither willing to be the first to look away. After what felt like an eternity but was closer to a dozen seconds, his gaze softened marginally.

"You have no idea, of course."

She baulked.

"I know exactly how cruel you are—how you like to arrange the lives of the people who surround you, without a care for the desolation you cause. My sister has been heartbroken all winter, and still is!"

He shook his head and sighed.

"Might we sit? Regardless of our situation, I think you should know."

"Know what?"

Elizabeth was still standing, arms crossed, eyes shooting daggers at him. Darcy gestured for her to sit and, once she had done so, settled in a chair next to hers and spoke again.

"I think this will come as a shock, and I am very sorry to give you pain, but it must be done."

Elizabeth was looking at him with a pinched look and not a little incredulity.

"Will you please get to the point, sir?"

"Very well. Bingley did not come back to Netherfield because I told him your sister did not love him."

"How could you!" a distressed Elizabeth interrupted, threatening him with the first thing she could lay her hand on—it happened to be her teaspoon.

"Because she certainly does not. Trust me on this."

"Pardon me? She is my sister, my closest confident, why on Earth would I trust a stranger regarding her feelings? I dare say I know her far better than you may do." Elizabeth, trembling with rage, summoned all her willpower to put her spoon on the table next to her instead of throwing it at her caller's face.

"I can only conclude that she does not confide in you as much as you confide in her—that there are things she tells your mother that she would not repeat to you."

"Again, sir, speak plainly," she hissed.

"I overheard Miss Bennet speaking to her mother, shortly after you and I danced together. Your sister let her know, in no uncertain terms, that she had given some consideration to the thought of dropping Bingley for me in a heartbeat if I wished it." He had that disgusted look again. "The reason being that there would be more jewels and pin money to be had as my wife. In the end, though, she told your mother that I would be less easily led than my friend. If your sister is mourning a loss, Miss Bennet, it is that of material advantage—nothing else."

Having said that, he looked at Elizabeth. She appeared even more furious than she had only a while before.

"Jane would never act thus. Not my Jane! If you had told me Lydia had said such a thing, I would be willing to believe you, but—not Jane. Why are you slandering her? How dare you!"

No answer came—not that she truly expected one—and she growled: "Get out. Now."

"I will not linger. Again, I am sorry to give you pain, but think about it: why should I lie to you?"

He made a gesture as if he was going to take her hand in his but appeared to think better of it, and continued with a sad smile: "I know how hard it is to believe that someone you love so much can act in a manner so different from the image you have of her."

After an hesitation and on hearing Elizabeth scoff and mumble something that sounded strangely like you know, right ... he added, "I too have a sister, and last summer I nearly lost her." He hesitated, and then went on. "It is still hard for me to believe that she would agree to such a plan, and yet, she herself told me that she had been persuaded to believe herself in love, and to consent to an elopement with Mr Wickham." He spat the last word.

Elizabeth's eyes widened, and she opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before she could manage to produce a sound. When she did, her voice was strained.

"Mr Wickham—as in George Wickham, officer in the —shire Militia?"

"The very same," Darcy nodded.

"He is married?" Poor Miss King, she thought. He had us all fooled.

"Heavens, no!" Mr Darcy appeared aghast at the very idea. "I came to visit my sister a few days before the plan was enacted; she could not bear the idea of grieving and offending me and confessed all to me—in some ways, I am more a father to her than a brother. Wickham was rather unhappy to see her thirty thousand pounds going away from him."

"Oh. That must be the reason for his dislike—not the living he said you refused him." Elizabeth felt oddly calm, given the state she had been in moments before. She did not think, even for one second, that Mr Darcy would lie about his own sister and suddenly felt rather foolish at the idea that she had been so easily manipulated. Her beliefs were beginning to crumble, and it was at that moment that she recollected that some things had effectively struck her as strange, or at least not exactly right, in Mr Wickham's behaviour. However, she could not yet reflect on it, not while Mr Darcy was still there. It also did not absolve him of his treatment of Jane. She needed to be alone; she feared another headache would arise.

She felt drained from all energy, and repeated her previous entreaty, albeit in a much different fashion.

"Please, go away now."

He looked at her and, after a moment's hesitation, stood, bowed to her, and left. As soon as he had gone through the door, Elizabeth flew to her room and collapsed on her bed. She tried to make sense of what she had just heard. She was ready to admit she could have been wrong in the matter of Mr Wickham, but not for a moment could she believe that Jane could behave—dissemble!—in such a way. Yet neither could she dismiss out of hand what Mr Darcy had said. There were reasons enough for him to disparage the Bennets and separate his friend from her sister, so why would he create such an outlandish tale?

Mayhap there had been some kind of misunderstanding. She could not help but smile. That sounded like something Jane would have said. Her smile turned to a frown. What could Mr Darcy have overheard that would lead him to misunderstand Jane so much? She thought about it for some time before sighing, concluding that she could not make sense of any of it—that she would have needed to hear exactly what Mr Darcy heard, supposing he remembered it all, and try to discern how such a dreadful misapprehension did arise. Elizabeth, though she tried to be angry at his interfering without knowing the whole truth, found she could not reproach him for having acted in good faith. That did annoy her quite a lot.

Without having any illusions as to her capacity to sleep, she prepared for bed and willed herself to rest. She wished she could walk in the morning, meet Mr Darcy and ask him for some additional information, but she could not be so forward. He would leave on the morrow, she would go back to her sister; and she hoped she would be able to discover what had happened. But what good could it do, when there was no chance of her meeting Mr Darcy ever again to correct his perception?

One week later, London

Elizabeth and Maria left Hunsford for London as planned, despite the entreaties of Lady Catherine who would have them staying until June, when she herself was to go to London to visit her acquaintances before they left for the country. The young ladies were to remain in Gracechurch Street for some days, where Elizabeth's aunt and uncle resided. Jane had often stayed with them in the past, but it would be one of the first times Elizabeth would be hosted by them. Mr and Mrs Gadiner had planned they would all attend various events, therefore Elizabeth thought it would be difficult for her to study her sister's spirits while they were in London. She resolved herself to wait until they were back in Longbourn before observing Jane. For now, she would enjoy her stay in the capital.

The first of the planned engagements was, on the night that followed their arrival, a private ball that a neighbour of their uncle was giving for his daughter. The girl was a little younger than Elizabeth, but she knew the Bennet sisters well, having met with them each time they visited the Gardiners.

"A ball? How lovely!" Maria exclaimed, clapping her hands, as she was told the news over breakfast.

Elizabeth added cautiously: "But, Aunt, I fear neither Maria nor I have gowns suitable for such an event."

"I am fairly certain you packed some of your best evening gowns, did you not?" After the girls had nodded, Mrs Gardiner went on. "One of them will do. We had to procure Jane a new dress, as she already wore all those she brought several times, but no one will have seen any of yours yet. Besides, there simply is no time to have new ones made, though if you wish to make a few alterations to an existing gown, it can certainly be done."

"To the ball we shall go, then," said Elizabeth with a smile. At least there was no risk that she would become lost in her thoughts during a ball. These past days, once her anger had abated, she had reflected a lot about her acquaintance with Mr Darcy. She regretted having been so harsh—and rude— with him when they last saw each other. She supposed he understood she had been confused by his tale. This was another source of uneasiness. How stupid had she been to believe Mr Wickham! She had vowed not to be hasty when it came to judge people and to remember that charming people could be bad while disagreeable ones could be good. She still refused to believe he was in any way right about Jane, but when she had met with her sister again, the thought that it was more because of a sense of familial loyalty than of factual knowledge had crept in her mind. She had shaken it away but determined to keep an eye on Jane in order to ascertain that the image she had of her sister was reflecting the reality, and that nothing but a misunderstanding was the cause of Mr Darcy's bad opinion of her.

In a fancier part of town, the following conversation could be heard between two gentlemen. They were both tall and handsome; one of them was undignifiedly slouched in an armchair with a glass in hand and looked unhappy, the other stood in front of his friend, speaking with determination.

"Now, that is enough, Darcy. You have been in a bad mood for days, barely speaking with anybody—even less than is usual for you. I would swear you were angry with the whole world. This has to change!"

Mr Darcy was about to dismiss him, when he was struck by what was said.

"You think that I am usually silent?"

"Why, of course you are. When have you given yourself the trouble to attend a conversation with a new acquaintance? You do have many good qualities but this is a failure of yours."

Darcy did not answer. What Sir Nicholas Harcourt said was very close to Elizabeth's admonishment at Rosings. She had said he should practice his conversational skills, had she not? His friend was visibly of the same mind. Maybe he should do so—and he might even forget about Miss Elizabeth Bennet's existence during an entire twenty minutes.

"What do you suggest I do?"

"I am going to a ball tonight. I am welcome to bring any well-behaved friend with me—so you can join me, try to relax a little, speak to the other guests, dance with the ladies ..."

"That may be your usual deportment, but you know very well that if I do so, it will be assumed that I am searching for a wife, and I am not in the mood tonight to bear that kind of scrutiny."

His friend smirked.

"Have you ever been in such a mood? However, in the place I suggest we go to, the ladies could have no such expectations."

Darcy frowned.

"Harcourt, I will not take part in anything immoral."

The baronet rolled his eyes.

"As if I would suggest something like that to you. I sometimes mingle with acquaintances who move in less exalted circles; the jeweller I patronise is giving a ball for his daughter. If we go, he will appreciate the compliment of our presence, but given the difference of station between us and the rest of the assistance, nobody will think much of it if we danced with unattached young ladies. You might want to avoid dancing twice with one, but even then, it would be understood that you do not mean much by it. Trust me."

"Very well—I shall go."

Same day, same town, early evening

Miss Lucas was feeling poorly and had stayed behind, bemoaning her misfortune in missing such a party. She consoled herself with the fact she had been for tea at Rosings one more time than her sister's friend.

The Gardiners and their two nieces were in the carriage going to the ball. Elizabeth, who was observing Jane, thought that she could detect some sadness in her; that impression was confirmed when she sighed softly.

"Jane?"

The lady turned toward her sister.

"Are you well?" Elizabeth went on.

"Oh. Yes, I am, thank you Lizzy. It is just ... I once thought that I would attend other kinds of events by that time—not that there is anything wrong with this ball, Aunt!" She hurriedly added. "Amelia is a dear girl and I am happy to attend her ball. There was one time, however, when I thought my acquaintance with Miss Bingley would have led me to be invited to more fashionable gatherings."

She smiled.

"I must sound very silly. Forgive me. I have every expectation of enjoying myself tonight."

Elizabeth knew not how to answer. She did not think that Miss Bingley was the one who was missed, but the way Jane phrased her thoughts … it was as if Mr Bingley was not foremost in her mind either, other than as a means to an end. She scolded herself for thinking so badly of her sister, but another part of her mind entreated her to consider the possibility that Mr Darcy had not misinterpreted what he witnessed, whatever that was. She hoped that the upcoming ball would not be a source of further distress, but of reassurance.

In the rooms where Miss Brown's ball is held

On their arrival, the party disposed of their outerwear. The guests were still trickling in; the Gardiners and their nieces had only a few moments to greet their friends before entering the ballroom.

Many relations of Mr Gardiner had been invited and the male, unmarried ones specifically asked him for an introduction to his nieces. More often than not, the young men requested a set from Jane. Elizabeth was overlooked, but she did not mind. She had been happy for the diversion of the dance, but now realised that she was in too reflective a mood to be an agreeable partner and that she would better enjoy the evening from the side. It would also allow her to observe Jane more easily, though she hoped they would speak between dances. The society was varied, and Elizabeth took pleasure in participating now and then in the conversations which were flowing between Mrs Gardiner and the wives of her uncle's business partners.

Soon, she grew weary of standing in the same place and decided to take a turn around the room. Jane was dancing again, with a young man who had been presented to them earlier. The second son of a gentleman, he had inherited fifteen thousand pounds from his grandmother, had contacted Mr Gardiner in order to invest his wealth, and did not need to take a profession. Elizabeth supposed he could have been a suitable match for Jane, had she met him before she gave her heart away. Or, a Darcy-like voice whispered in her mind, if she had not been hoping for a man of more consequence to take notice of her. Shaking her head, she went on her way.

The dancing had already begun when Darcy and Harcourt entered the building, and their host was not to be seen for the moment.

"He is certainly seeing how things are doing in the card room. I will have a footman apprise him of our arrival."

With nothing else to do, Darcy began to pace the floor, mindful of his goal of being amiable, seeking some introductions, and talking with some people, even if he was not fully comfortable. As he was doing so, he nearly knocked down a young lady who was also wandering the room and lifted his arm in order to steady her. Then he looked at her and froze.

"Miss Bennet!"

Of all people, she was here? He did not know whether it was a blessing or a curse. Part of him was elated to see she was still as lovely as ever, while his reason reminded him that the further he was from her, the better.

"Mr Darcy!"

Elizabeth was so surprised she did not know what to say nor what to do. As far as she could tell, Mr Darcy was similarly struck.

As soon as he regains his bearings, he will turn and leave. If I want to apologise, I must do it now.

"Sir, I ... I am sorry."

Mr Darcy remained silent and looked intensely at her. Elizabeth took a deep breath, and continued.

"For being so rude towards you when we last saw each other."

That was not, by a long shot, a very strong apology, but Elizabeth found it hard to utter it at all. Even if she knew she had been wrong, humbling herself in front of the gentleman did not sit well with her. And to think I accused him of pride when I am guilty of exactly the same fault!

Mr Darcy was still watching her, and Elizabeth felt as if her nerves were about to fail her. She held to her pride and to the memory that he was likely the cause of Jane's low spirits to keep her countenance.

"Forgive me, sir. I will not impose on your time any longer."

She curtsied and turned away, determined to seek her sister or the Gardiners and to beg for an early return home. She did not think she could bear the thought of an evening in the same room as Mr Darcy with any equanimity. She was in a state of great confusion, for his presence reminded her that she still had had no opportunity to understand where his accusations came from. She needed calm, she needed some time to think and some time alone with Jane, and these were not to be found at a ball.

Darcy had been so surprised by Elizabeth's presence that he did not know how to act. Then she spoke, and all his attention was focused on listening to her. Before he had the time to understand what precisely she had said, she was gone. Again. He looked at her moving away in the crowd, and slowly shook his head. Maybe, now that he knew she had believed him, he could get some closure, not think of her as much. But she had not exactly said that, had she? And why did it matter to him?

A cry shook him from his meditations.

"There you are, Darcy!"

He snapped his head in the direction of Harcourt's voice. His friend was accompanied by a middle-aged man.

"Darcy, let me introduce to you Mr Brown, our host. Mr Brown, this is my good friend Mr Darcy of Pemberley."

After Darcy thanked him for his invitation, after which they discussed politics. Soon, Mr Brown had to excuse himself to see to his other guests.

Harcourt was looking at his friend with some amusement.

"You may not need as much practice as I thought, after all. I did not think you could converse so easily with someone you just met."

"I did not think so either but found that it is not as strenuous as I feared it would be," Darcy answered with a smile.

Sir Nicholas smirked.

"Well then, now I must have you dance."

"Perhaps I will. Not now, though—but if you are acquainted with her, could you introduce me to our host's daughter? If she has still a set free, I should like to ask her to dance."

The current set was coming to an end, and he caught a glimpse of Elizabeth—Miss Elizabeth—hurriedly going to her sister on the other side of the ballroom.

"Jane! Thank God, you are here."

"Of course I am here, Lizzy," said a perplexed Jane. "Where else should I be?"

Elizabeth took her sister's hands and squeezed them. If they had been somewhere private, she would have hugged her.

"Oh, dearest, I just stumbled across Mr Darcy—it is so embarrassing—please, would you mind if we went home? We have stayed long enough for Amelia not to feel slighted, and I shall plead that I have a headache—I shall have one, if I fret any longer."

Elizabeth had no doubt of what Jane's answer would be. If she was still pining for Mr Bingley, she would not find much pleasure in the gathering, and would not be unhappy to go home before the evening was over.

However, when she looked up, she saw the strangest expression on her sister's face. Jane appeared resolved and almost stern.