Elizabeth stared out the carriage window, desperately trying to ignore Kitty and Lydia's bickering. Her entire family, including Mr. Collins, were on their way to the Netherfield Ball. Elizabeth felt unsettled. Some new information about Mr. Darcy came to light….but Lizzy wasn't sure she believed it.

Lydia and Kitty had returned from Meryton one day with the news of a new officer - a Mr. Wickham. According to her younger sisters, he was all things handsome and charming. Then again, they said that about most of the officers.

Lizzy had the chance to meet him at their Aunt Phillips' a few days later. Lydia and Kitty were definitely correct about one thing: Mr. Wickahm was undeniably handsome. She had also found him charming at first, but their conversation took a weird turn.

"I hear a Mr. Bingley has recently moved into the neighborhood," Wickham commented.

"Yes, he had bonded with my eldest sister," Elizabeth replied, happiness shining though at the memory.

"Ah, my congratulations! Although I must say, I'm a bit surprised. Is he not friends with Mr. Darcy?"

Elizabeth tried to mask her confusion at the comment. "Indeed he is. Mr. Darcy is staying at Netherfield."

"I'm surprised he didn't try to separate them."

"Separate them?" she asked skeptically. "Why would he try to separate them."

"I have quite a history with Darcy. You see, I was the son of his father's steward. Upon my father's death, Darcy's father took me in - he practically raised me alongside Darcy. Fitz and I got along in our youth, but as we got older, he started to despise me. His father liked me more. When his father died, Darcy refused to give the living promised to me. I wanted nothing more than to enter into the Church, but it was not to be. He cast me out. I came back to Derbyshire a few years later with my soulmate. We were simply touring the country. When Darcy found out I was there, he tracked me down and forbade my soulmate from marrying me. We were forced apart, and Darcy has used his wealth and influence to keep us that way."

"But why?"

"It is well known that some members of the Darcy family hate the idea of soulmates. They will refuse their own, if marked, and take pleasure in separating others. Fitz is one of those Darcys."

Elizabeth looked down at his hands. "You do not have a mark."

His hands twitched slightly at this comment. "When you are kept from your soulmate for too long, the mark fades."

"I have never heard of such a thing occurring."

"Well, few people are so cruelly forced from their other half."

Elizabeth ended the conversation as quickly as her manners allowed and sought other company. Something about Wickham's story felt...off. Lizzy and Darcy had talked a bit about both of their families while playing chess in the library at Netherfield. He mentioned his own parents being very much in love, and he seemed quite happy with the memory.

Lizzy could not deny that Wickham's story fit perfectly with her first impression of the man. Yes, she could see that Darcy being cruel enough to do such a thing. But the gentlemen she had come to know - the one who she couldn't get out of her head - he would surely not do such a thing.

Which Darcy are you?

As the Bennet carriage pulled up to Netherfield, Lizzy found her mind racing and her stomach fluttering.

Almost as soon as they entered the beautiful house, Mr. Bingley was upon them, a bright smile lighting up his face. Elizabeth chuckled as she saw his eyes flick back to Jane every sentence.

"They will make a fine pair," a voice whispered in her ear.

Lizzy whirled around to find Mr. Darcy standing quite close to her with a smile that would put Mr. Bingley's to shame. Against her will, her cheeks colored.

She curtsied. "Indeed, Mr. Darcy, I was just thinking the same thing."

Before Darcy could respond, however, a voice rang out behind them. "Mr. Darcy? Of Pemberley?" questioned a star-struck Mr. Collins.

Elizabeth cringed at the sound of her cousin's voice.

They have not even been introduced!

Mr. Darcy looked skeptically at Mr. Collins, his nose flaring in indignation when her cousin linked his own arm with hers. Elizabeth could have sworn she saw Mr. Darcy glare at Mr. Collins.

"Indeed I am," he answered gravely. "Who might you be?"

"Oh, how fortunate!" Mr. Collins exclaimed. "You are the nephew of my great patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. I can readily assure you that your Aunt was in great health last I saw her, as was your cousin Anne. I wish I could bring you more news of your betrothed, but I fear she was quiet in our last meeting."

Elizabeth started at his last statement.

Betrothed? Is Mr. Darcy engaged?

Lizzy looked to Mr. Darcy, surprised to see anger, shock, and...fear written on his face.

"I assure you, sir, am not engaged, no matter what my Aunt may tell you." With that, he bowed and left.

Mr. Collins seemed astonished. Truly, he could not fathom the meaning of Mr. Darcy's comment - he was obviously engaged, as Lady Catherine had already decided on the fact.

Elizabeth found herself desperate to go after him. She wanted to ask him about his engagement.

Is it true? Why did he get angry? Why do I care so much? We are only friends...right?

With these thoughts in mind, Lizzy was led to the first dance with Mr. Collins.

Mr. Darcy watched as Elizabeth entered the ballroom. She looked positively enchanting. Her hair was tied, littered with small white flowers, and she wore the most becoming white dress.

Unsurprisingly, Bingley approached them as soon as they entered - or more accurately, he approached Jane Bennet. Darcy smiled as he watched the two interact. They really were perfect for each other. At that thought, he looked back towards Elizabeth and was pleased to see her looking at them, as well. Her happiness for her sister was plainly written on her face.

If all goes well tonight, Elizabeth will have one more sister to love.

Emboldened by this thought, Mr. Darcy walked to Elizabeth's side - she hadn't noticed him yet.

Leaning in, he commented, "They will make a fine pair."

Elizabeth started at this, and Darcy's smile widened as she saw the blush on her cheeks. He had barely registered her response when someone called out from behind.

A short, round man approached them, and Darcy clenched his fist as he saw this man link arms with Elizabeth. His Elizabeth. Worst of all, she looked terribly uncomfortable.

Just who is this man?

He almost let out an exasperated sigh, when the man introduced himself.

Of course, he works with Aunt Catherine.

The next comment, however, had Darcy's blood boiling.

"...I wish I could bring you more news of your betrothed, but I fear she was quiet in our last meeting."

Suppressing his urge to shout the truth - that he would NEVER marry Anne - Darcy looked toward Elizabeth. She seemed worried. Darcy was half agony, half hope. On one hand, he couldn't have her believing he was engaged to another woman. On the other hand, her expression confirmed some sort of attachment to himself.

Not willing to let his love worry, he curtly responded, "I assure you, sir, am not engaged, no matter what my Aunt may tell you." Quickly, he left, determined to compose himself before asking Elizabeth to dance.

However, when he finally returned, he saw Elizabeth dancing the first set with Mr. Collins.

He's a horrible dancer! Good Lord, he could hurt somebody!

So, Darcy watched them, silently planning his next move.

Lizzy's first dance was horrendous. She did not expect Mr. Collins to be a good dancer, but even her low expectations were shattered. Her cousin was constantly stepping on her feet, missing turns, getting the steps wrong - she wasn't even sure he knew the dance.

Even worse, she could see Mr. Darcy staring at them. He looked so angry. She was ashamed of her relation to Mr. Collins.

Would he disapprove of me because of my relation to him?

Fate, however, was determined to answer this question for her. After the dance, Lizzy found herself lost in thought and ran straight into the chest of the very man she was pondering.

"Are you alright, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy asked, looking concerned.

"I believe so. To what are you referring?"

"Your dance partner seemed more interested in stepping on you than on the ballroom floor."

Elizabeth laughed at his response, grateful to him for putting her at ease. "Yes, I'm quite alright, Mr. Darcy. We country girls are hardier than we let on."

His next question sent her thoughts back into a spiral.

"Would you do me the honor of dancing the next set with me? I promise to be a more attentive partner."

And so, Elizabeth Bennet found her tongue in the middle of a tug-of-war between her heart and her head. Her heart desperately wanted to accept, while her head wanted to decline.

How can I dance with him when even being near him confuses me so?

For once in her life, Elizabeth's heart was determined to best her wit. Before her brain could even register her own words, she uttered an answer.

"Yes."

A few minutes later, a torn Elizabeth Bennet was led to the dance floor by a very happy Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Her heart, perhaps celebrating its victory, was the only thing Elizabeth could hear when the music started.

Why am I so nervous? It is only a dance with a friend. It's hardly life-changing.

Forcing herself to meet his eyes, their hands met in the middle, as the dance dictated. She certainly had to give him credit - he was a far better dancer than Mr. Collins. In fact, he was a better dancer than most men of her acquaintance. He stood tall, yet moved gracefully, and he was, without a doubt, an attentive partner. His eyes had not left her form since the music started. In a very rare occurrence, Elizabeth Bennet had nothing to say. Any conversation would have soothed her nerves, but she could think of nothing. Her wit had abandoned her, it seemed, and left her in the tenuous care of her heart.

As much as she wanted to continue trying to find a topic of discussion, Elizabeth found herself growing very hot. It was not unpleasant, but indeed quite the opposite. Her hands tingled every time they met Mr. Darcy's. It was by far the most pleasant feeling she'd ever had. However, she could not deny that it was odd. How could something feel so natural, yet so unnatural at the same time? When it all grew to be too much, she mustered up the courage to look at Mr. Darcy. Perhaps he felt odd, too? Meeting his gaze, she started at the intensity. He looked flushed, almost as much as she assumed she did, but his eyes would not leave hers. Never before had she seen so deep a blue - an ocean at sunrise, the light of the candles reflecting off his irises.

Elizabeth Bennet felt weightless. She was unaware of everything around her. Everything but him. The ballroom could have burned to the ground, and she would take no notice. If she could still think rationally, Elizabeth would have thanked her feet for following the steps of the dance when her brain was otherwise engaged.

Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth stood in front of each other, hands melded together as the dance came to an end. Lizzy was still very much lost in Mr. Darcy's eyes when he looked down. She only did the same when she saw his eyes go wide, followed by his smile.

There, on both of their hands, was a mark that had definitely not been there before - the sun enveloped in a crescent moon. It was astonishing, beautiful...one of the most detailed marks she'd ever seen.

Then, all too suddenly, the weight of the world crashed back down on Elizabeth. Looking between their hands, the reality of the situation settled on her shoulders. She turned quickly to where she last saw her mother, praying that she had not noticed. Not yet. To Elizabeth's chagrin, she saw Jane and Mr. Bingley approaching, questioning looks on both of their faces. She was sure Mr. Darcy hadn't noticed - she could still feel his gaze on their hands.

She had to get away. She had to...think. If someone found out what had just happened between them, the whole ballroom would be alerted, and she would be stuck in a situation she had not quite come to terms with yet.

Looking toward Mr. Darcy, she tore her hands away, trying not to flinch at the confusion written on his face.

"Mr. Darcy," she curtsied, voice softer than she ever remembered it.

Elizabeth almost ran to the door, ignoring Jane's look as she glided past the happy couple. Before anyone could stop her, she was outside, descending the stairs. Hitching up her skirts, Lizzy broke out into a sprint - or at least as close as she could get to one in a dress and dancing slippers. It was not until she reached the top of Oakham Mount that she finally stopped running. Her legs burned, her chest heaved, and her heart beat so wildly in her chest, Elizabeth was sure it would pop straight out. Giving in to exhaustion, she laid on her back, gazing at the night sky. Her dress would undoubtedly be ruined by grass stains, but she couldn't convince herself to care. All she could do was look at the moon, whose likeness was now painted on her hand.

Her thoughts strayed to Mr. Darcy. Her soulmate. The markings were never wrong. It certainly didn't feel wrong. Yet, Elizabeth was confused. She thought back to every interaction they'd ever had. He was cold at first. He'd slighted her and almost every other girl at the assembly while doing so. But…what had he done beyond that? He was supportive of the relationship between Jane and Mr. Bingley. He did not look on in censure when her mother or sisters got a little too excited. There was, of course, Mr. Wickham's tale of woe, but she truly found no credence in that. There were too many holes in his story, and he was far too eager to tell it. She also doubted very much that he would lie about being engaged to another woman. Recalling all other interactions, she admitted that he had been amiable, friendly, and charming.

The thought - the feeling - descended upon Elizabeth fast enough to make her head spin...she was in love with Mr. Darcy.

There was no other man like him. He was generous, kind, and good-humored, despite the first impression he made. He seemed to go out of his way to make her smile - to make her laugh. He respected her intelligence, considering it equal to his own. Never once in their many debates was he condescending or belittling. He didn't dumb-down any of his opinions. He challenged her arguments for the sport of it. He even engaged in her teasing manner, unleashing his own. Elizabeth Bennet laid there, clutching her marked hand, stunned.

He is the only man I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.

Just as that thought flitted through her mind, Elizabeth was interrupted by an out-of-breath voice coming up the hill.

"Elizabeth!"

Fitzwilliam Darcy was giddy with happiness as he led Elizabeth to the ballroom floor. She had finally said yes. He would finally get to dance with her. And so sure he was of the outcome. In his heart, Mr. Darcy already knew who his soulmate was. The dance, though exciting, was merely a formality to him at this point. It was a simple confirmation of what he already knew to be true.

Elizabeth Bennet is my soulmate.

This was his thought as the music started up and they began the dance. His thoughts quickly entered the realm of concern, however, when he saw that Elizabeth would not meet his eye. She seemed determined to look at everyone but him. As Darcy went to ask what was troubling her, he was startled by a very pleasant warmth shooting through his person. Before he even knew what was happening, he was alone with his Elizabeth. Their movements suggested they were still at the dance, yet he could make out nothing but her. If he had thought she was enchanting before, he was wrong. Never had a person looked so...beautiful. When she finally raised her head to meet his eyes, Darcy was struck dumb. Her dark green eyes had transcended from fine to bewitching. They reminded him of his walks under the thickest tree canopies at Pemberley. She was fixated on him, and he was fixated on her.

The clapping was the only thing that indicated the end of the dance, shaking him out of his trance. Holding his breath, he looked down to where their hands were joined. The sight scared away any rational thought.

There, on their hands, were the sun and moon. Most markings were relatively simple, but these...these were intricate, much like his parents' had been.

So filled with joy was Darcy, he could have looked at their hands until the sun came up, had Elizabeth not pried them away. Snapping his head up, he found her looking quite distressed, once again refusing to meet his gaze. She curtsied quickly and raced out the door before Darcy could get two words in. Coming to his senses, he immediately moved to go after her, only to find himself right in front of a very worried Jane and a confused Bingley.

"Is Lizzy alright? What happened?" the eldest Miss Bennet questioned.

Bingley opened his mouth to say something, but it snapped closed as he looked down. He nudged Jane and nodded down to Darcy's hand. Miss Bennet could only stare at the mark - the mark she knew her sister had as well.

In a moment of forwardness that would have thoroughly surprised both gentlemen, had they not already been in such a state, Jane unhooked herself from Mr. Bingley's arm and grabbed Mr. Darcy.

"I'll be only a moment, Charles," she said quickly, already dragging Darcy to the door.

As soon as they were outside, she turned to Mr. Darcy with a look of seriousness he had never seen on her before.

"Mr. Darcy, forgive me for being forward, but I must ensure my sister's happiness." Jane took a deep breath before continuing. "Lizzy loves you, of this I am sure. And I know that you love her. I have watched both of you most carefully these past weeks. Please, I beg you, do not be discouraged by my sister's reaction. I almost did the same when I danced with Charles. You must understand how little time we have to think about anything in a family of so many sisters. Should someone have seen, she would have had no time to process it. You will find her at Oakham Mount." With an encouraging smile and a small curtsey, Jane Bennet went back into Netherfield, set on telling her betrothed about his best friend, soon to be brother.

Mr. Darcy stood on the stairs for half a minute, before racing across the border of Netherfield and Longbourne. He could not pinpoint a single thought in his head, so mixed was he between feelings of joy, despair, and hope. He reached Oakham Mount in record time, and almost fell over at the sight that greeted him.

There, lying in the grass, staring at the stars, was his Elizabeth. And she was smiling. Yes, he would do very well to see such a thing every night. The roof of Pemberley did make an excellent star-gazing location, after all.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Darcy called out to her.

"Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth Bennet shot up at the familiar voice, turning to see an over-exerted Mr. Darcy walking towards her. She wanted to speak, to tell him about her feelings, but she found herself silent once again.

Blast my wit for taking leave of me now!

Mr. Darcy was in the same boat. He walked up to her, leaving no more than a foot between them. He had so much he wanted to say, yet his tongue would not cooperate. He could only stare at her. When it became clear to him that forming words, much less coherent sentences, was impossible, he settled on the next best thing - or the best thing, really.

He reached out and caressed her cheek. It was soft and warm, despite the chilly autumn air. He very nearly let out a whine when she leaned into his hand, closing her eyes. Still, there was much to be said, so Mr. Darcy stepped closer, and slowly leaned down. It was pure euphoria when their lips finally met. The kiss started out gentle, leaving both their stomach's fluttering. Mr. Darcy smiled into the kiss as he felt Elizabeth's hair tickle his cheek.

Finally needing to breathe, they split, resting their foreheads together, unwilling to separate any further than that.

Elizabeth's dazed, soft voice broke the silence. "I'm sorry I ran."

Mr. Darcy shook his head. "Please don't. You have nothing to be sorry for. Your sister explained your feelings quite well, I think."

Lizzy laughed at that, laying her head on his chest. "What has the world come to that dear Jane can explain my feelings better than me." She smiled before continuing, her voice back to that teasing tone he loved so much. "And were you pleased by what she had to say?"

Darcy chuckled, warmly replying, "Oh, very much. I would much rather hear it from you, though."

Elizabeth removed her hands from his chest and placed them on the sides of his face. Much like her cheeks, Darcy found them to be warm and soft. And they were his to hold. His to kiss.

Elizabeth brushed her lips tantalizingly against his. "What is your Christian name?"

"Fitzwilliam," he replied, relieved his voice still worked.

She moved away slightly, and he went to protest but stopped as he saw her look into his eyes. Then, she said the words he had longed to hear since he'd first laid eyes on her.

"I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

The smile on Darcy's face would have knocked Mr. Bingley clean out. He wrapped his arms around his soulmate, spinning her in his arms. He was rewarded with that angelic laugh, and though he was loath to put her down, he had his own confessing to do. Besides, he could spin her all he wanted at Pemberley.

"And I…" he kissed her forehead, reveling in her warmth.

"Love…" he kissed her cheek, adoring her smile.

"You…" he kissed her other cheek, appreciating the quirk of her lips.

"My dearest…" he kissed the tip of her nose, enjoying her laugh.

"Loveliest.." he kissed the corner of her mouth, smiling deviously at her huff.

"Elizabeth." Finally, the two locked in a warm embrace and a passionate kiss.

And there they remained until sunrise, when the sun and the moon were visible in the same sky.