It was easily the warmest day of the autumn season, which was rather odd considering the location. For early November, one ought to expect Hertfordshire to be a tad bit cooler, but nonetheless, I did not care. Walking was a passion of mine, so I happily strolled along the quiet and serene yellowy-green hills of the English countryside without my coat. I just so happened to be walking in such a way when a fancy barouche of the Beau Monde (that means a carriage looking as if it belonged to a member of the upper class) bounced by and splashed a small bit of mud on the hem of my dress. The snide face of a woman looking out of the window at me held contempt and I scowled in retaliation before trying my best to wipe the mud from my skirts. I walked on, hoping to never meet the occupants of that barouche, and returned home to find my mother pressing my father for some odd reason I knew not.

"Oh, but Mr. Bennet, you must go! For the sake of our daughters!" cried my mother. My father calmly sauntered to his favorite armchair in our drawing room before taking his seat.

"Our daughters may charm him if he wishes to be charmed, and that is not my doing," said my father calmly.

"Oh, but Mr. Bingley will surely marry one of our girls if we are able to call on him and you know that we shall not if you do not call upon him first and make our family known to him!" cried my mother. "Oh, how could you do this to my poor nerves? How crude of you, Mr. Bennet!"

"My dear Mrs. Bennet, I have been well aquatinted with your nerves these past three and twenty years and believe me when I say I choose to press them for amusement."

"Why, whatever can you mean?"

"I mean that I have already visited our new neighbor, Mr. Bingley." The uproar of excitement that came from the throats of my mother and her two youngest - and favorite - daughters, Kitty and Lydia, respectively in age, was enough to deafen any resident of the household. My elder sister rushed down the steps to see what was the cause of such an uproar and my younger sister halted her handiwork at the pianoforte. I, on the other hand, simply remained in the kitchen, a wet cloth dabbing at the mud at my hem. Shortly after, my elder sister joined me in the kitchen with a smile on her face.

"I was with papa when he met Mr. Bingley in Meryton this past afternoon. He seems a rather amiable man and I am happy to know he wishes to be of our acquaintance," said my sister, Jane. I smiled at the sparkle in her eye and I knew that she harbored different feelings than that of my two youngest sisters towards our new neighbor. "He informed us that his sisters, brother and friend were to join him at Netherfield, the estate he rented, and will attend the Meryton Assembly tomorrow evening."

"And you seem rather happy about that," I said to my sister with a smile.

"Oh, Lizzy... I must tell you that Mr. Bingley can certainly find a more enjoyable wife financially than he could win me," said Jane. "I must make sure that Sarah has mended my gown. Perhaps you ought to change yours before dinner." She took her leave and I sat there with my hem in my hand wondering if the barouche that had passed me earlier in the day had carried Mr. Bingley's guests

The carriage bounced along the muddy road - I could tell it was muddy based on the droplets of mud that dotted the window - and I sat back trying my best to ignore the snide remarks coming from the woman across from me, my good friend's sister. I could see not how my friend, Charles Bingley, could be related to the orange fiend across from me.

"Look at this hideous scene... It makes me rather ill. Does it not turn your stomach, Mr. Darcy?" the orange fiend, Miss Caroline Bingley, asked me. I did not turn to her, as I was far more interested in the papers.

"I find no fault in it, Caroline," I told her. "The countryside does not offend me and I do not find it odious as you may." I had known the Bingleys for the better part of nine years, so I could call Miss Bingley by her Christian name with no fear of impropriety, however, I would have preferred to call her 'Miss Bingley'. The only thing preventing me from carrying out that decision was her continuously insisting I call her 'Caroline' continuously until I complied.

"Oh, look, some local peasant girl..." said Miss Bingley, her cruel blue eyes scanning the woman walking with a book in hand. I could not help but be torn from my scrutiny of the papers as I lifted my head to see the young woman's attention drawn to the carriage. She gasped for a moment and Miss Bingley smirked as we passed, and I saw that the young woman's hem was muddied, perhaps from the caked wheels. "How unfortunate. I cannot wait until we return to the city. Can you, Mr. Darcy?" I returned my gaze to the papers in my hand and ignored her statement. Noticing that she had failed in keeping my attentions, she prattled to her sister beside her about some sort of ball that we were all to attend.

My sisters and I prepared for the Meryton Assembly quickly. I dressed myself in a dark green gown that my elder sister claimed brought out my brown eyes, my elder sister dressed herself in her light rose gown, my younger sister, Mary, dressed in a plain brown one and Kitty and Lydia wore bright and colorful frocks that were sure to get them noticed at the Assembly. We embarked shortly after and soon, we were at the Assembly dancing with many young men. I was standing on the sides with my sister, Jane, and my good friend, Miss Charlotte Lucas.

"Jane, if not every man falls in love with you tonight, than I am surely a poor judge of romance," I told her after she had denied a claim made by our mother saying that she was indeed the most handsome girl in the room.

"Or men," said my sister with a laugh. "Be careful, Lizzy, for someday, a man will catch your eye and you must hold your tongue."

"I shall hold it well and eat my bonnet, then," I told her with a smile, and the room suddenly quieted. Confused, Miss Lucas, Jane and I lifted our eyes to find three unfamiliar figures standing at the entrance. I caught my sister blushing and turning her gaze to her feet, so I assumed that one of the two gentlemen standing with the unfamiliar lady was Mr. Bingley, and the young woman one of his sisters. I was unsure about the gentleman between the two, as he could easily be Mr. Bingley's brother or his friend. The three of them began to walk down the aisle created by the wall of dancers that had stepped aside to allow them through, and as they passed us, we three bowed. The gentleman in the middle caught my eye, and as soon as he did, he turned his blue eyes from mine, ignoring the piece of his dark brown hair that fell in his face due to the quick turn of his neck.

"When we return home this evening, I shall pick out the bonnet for you to eat," whispered Jane, and I looked at her with a confused expression showing on my face. "You're blushing." Her commenting on the blood that must have surfaced at my cheeks caused my cheeks to flush even more, and I looked down when the heat became unbearable. Shortly after, the dancing continued Jane, Miss Lucas and I continued our conversation before being pulled away by my mother.

"Come! You must meet Mr. Bingley!" she cried, and she grabbed Mary by the arm and dragged her over as well. Sir William Lucas, Charlotte's father, stood beside Mr. Bingley and his two companions.

"Mr. Bingley, you have met my own daughter," he said as his daughter curtsied to the trio. "Here among this group are my neighbors, Mr. Bennet, of whom I believe you have already formed an acquaintance with, his wife, Mrs. Bennett, Miss Jane Bennet, Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Mary Bennet." Each of us curtsied, save my father, when we were mentioned.

"I have two others, but they are already dancing," said my mother with a smiled I could not help but to raise my eyes and found them being met by the blue eyes of Mr. Bingley's tall companion and she blushed, casting them down once again.

"And may I introduce," said Sir Lucas, continuing, "Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire." The said gentleman bowed gracefully and I, the only one forgetting we had already curtsied, bestowed on him another curtsy, them blushed vigorously. "Beside him there is Mr. Bingley's sister, Miss Caroline Bingley."

"A pleasure," said Miss Bingley, her face scrunched up in a scowl. I recognized her face from the carriage that had muddied my gown. Shortly after, we separated, and I soon found Jane dancing with Mr. Bingley with a smile on her face. She appeared to be glowing, and I could not help but to smile at her joy. I then followed Charlotte to a secluded area beneath a set of layered benches, where we remained for an extended period of time.

"That Mr. Darcy certainly is a handsome one, is he not, Lizzy?" Charlotte asked me.

"Would he be so handsome, if he weren't so rich?" I asked her with a smile, and we both giggled.

"Lizzy, how would you know if he were rich? Have you spoken with him?"

"I asked if he danced, and he said he did not, but I made that assumption based on his style of clothes and how he holds himself. Did you not notice his appearance?"

"Yes, I did, and you would be correct, I dare say. He does seem the wealthy type." We suddenly heard the happy tone of Mr. Bingley's voice followed by a deep baritone approaching, and we silenced our giggles.

"You must dance, Darcy! I detest seeing you look so odious and unhappy. Can you not find a young lady to dance?" asked Mr. Bingley.

"You have been dancing with the handsomest girl in the room," said Mr. Darcy.

"But her sister, Miss Elizabeth, is certainly a most agreeable choice," said Mr. Bingley, and my ears perked up at the mention of my name.

"Barely tolerable, I dare say, but not handsome enough to tempt me," said Mr. Darcy. I heard the rumble of his deep baritone voice say something else, bit I was too shocked by his opinion of me to understand it. Once it stopped, I tuned back in.

"Darcy, I understand that you are holding ill feelings of women after that horrid Miss Engle, but you must not brood over it far too long. I know it is normally you guiding my senses, but now I see that you are in need of my guide. Miss Engle is not worth a moment of your time and I suggest you stop your brooding, for you will not win her back. I saw you eyeing Miss Elizabeth earlier. Surely, you do no think her 'barely tolerable' if you have kept your eyes on her this entire evening," said Mr. Bingley, and I noticed Mr. Darcy turning his head, ashamed at having been caught.

"I did not want to admit it to myself, Bingley..." said Mr. Darcy, fidgeting with his cuffs.

"Then admit it to me. Darcy, are we not close enough to be brothers?" Mr. Darcy let out a sigh and met Mr. Bingley's eyes.

"You are right... Miss Elizabeth is, perhaps, the most handsome woman I have come across as of yet, even more so than Miss Engle. You must understand my other hesitations, however. If I show her sentiments, she may perhaps believe me able to be caught into a loveless, unhappy union while she rejoices in my immense wealth." The fact that Mr. Darcy thought that of me stung sharply, but I had enough sense to know that he could not possibly know my true feelings of marriage without having spoken to me. As that thought crossed my mind, Mr. Bingley voiced it.

"Why don't you ask her to dance? It shall be the only way you find our her true personality," said Mr. Bingley.

"I am not up to dancing, Bingley. Perhaps I shall form an acquaintance with her another time, if such a time arrives," said Mr. Darcy. "Now return to your partner. You are wasting time with me." He left quickly and I could not help but notice the smirk on Mr. Bingley's face. I was certain that he was going to invite me over to visit with himself and, more importantly for him and his friend, Mr. Darcy.

As I walked away from Bingley, I felt my harsh mask faltering. I had worked so hard to gain it to protect myself from fortune-seeking mothers, and the simple country Miss Elizabeth Bennet's handsome appearance was wearing it down. I could not dance with her, but it would be willing to speak to her, if it meant for myself to gain a better view of her personality. I could not allow myself to become too attached, however, as she was, I believed, much lower than myself in society. My mind and manners yelled at me endlessly to not even consider a conversation with such lowly society, but my heart calmly encouraged me to consider her acquaintance. I was intending on seeking a silent corner, when I was stopped by Miss Bingley's horrid voice.

"Mr. Darcy, have you met my new friend, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?" she said, and my heart skipped a beat. Miss Bingley had accepted the friendship of Miss Elizabeth? I stopped and turned to the two young ladies before me, Miss Bingley dressed in white and Miss Elizabeth dresses in an earthly green.

"I was introduced to her earlier in the evening. How do you dim Miss Elizabeth?" I had said, bowing respectively.

"Very well, Mr. Darcy," said Miss Elizabeth, curtsying to me.

"Miss Elizabeth lives at the estate of Longbourn belonging to a gentleman, Mr. Bennet. I would have thought a gentleman would be able to at least afford new dresses for his daughters," said Miss Bingley rudely.

"My father would happily purchase new dresses for us, but my two sisters, Jane and Mary, and myself much prefer our current ones. They are far more comfortable and suitable for dancing at Assemblies such as this one," said Miss Elizabeth, deflecting Miss Bingley's rude remarks perfectly.

"I can see such reason behind that... I am certain no other homes are large enough for a ball and Assemblies are not quite as formal," said Miss Bingley.

"Miss Bingley, won't you dance?" asked Miss Elizabeth, not even seeming offended by Miss Bingley's harsh remarks.

"Perhaps if I am asked," said Miss Bingley, turning her gaze on me. I needed to find the best way to avoid her subtle hints, and since simply leaving was not civil, I turned to Miss Elizabeth.

"Miss Elizabeth, will you accept my company in the next set?" I asked her, my eyes widening at the sudden realization at what I had just asked. I noticed a subtle blush rise to her cheeks and she averted her eyes.

"Certainly, Mr. Darcy," she answered me.

"Excuse me," I said, and I darted away. Dancing with Miss Elizabeth? Silly me, had I not just informed Bingley that I would not dance with her? I continued panicking internally as I took my place opposite of her in the set, though I continued my taciturn appearance on the outside. The music began and Miss Elizabeth and I were perhaps closer than I would have liked in the quick song.

"So what brought you to the country, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire?" she asked me in a teasing manner, and I responded in a calm tone.

"My good friend, Mr. Bingley, persuaded me in it," I replied, not meeting her eyes. I was grateful that my hands were gloved, or else she would surely feel the nervous perspiration on my palms.

"Are you liking it thus far?" she asked. Good God, Miss Elizabeth, must you torture me with more conversation? I am already internally panicking.

"Being of my nature, I do indeed prefer the solitude and the quiet, as opposed to the business of the city," I told her.

"Is Pemberley not silent?"

"Most silent, if you are a guest, but not if you are it's master." We remained silent for several moments. "Miss Bingley said you lived at Longbourn?"

"Yes, we do."

"We had the pleasure of passing it on our way to Netherfield. Miss Bingley remarked it being a peasant home, but I thought it to be the home of a gentleman."

"It is a lovely home indeed, though we are a family of five daughters and no sons. It will be a shame to see it fall into the hands of someone who is not a Bennet."

"If only entails worked differently." I cursed myself for chatting about such a topic. Miss Elizabeth did not need to now how I loathed a busy life filled with papers and affairs I wished I had no dealings with. The set ended and I bowed to Miss Elizabeth before taking my leave. How could Bingley put me through such torture? I was, however, thoroughly impressed by her deflection of Miss Bingley's barbs.

I watched the mysterious Mr. Darcy's back retreat and I could not help but feel the joy at the gentle tingle in my fingertips, where I had touched Mr. Darcy's elegantly gloved hands. I couldn't imagine how my fingertips would feel if Mr. Darcy's hands had not been gloved, but I decided not to ponder over it any longer. I doubted that Mr. Darcy and I were to ever speak again, and I must say that I was secretly happy to find out how wrong I was in assuming this.