A/N: It has been such a long time, dear readers, since I have updated this story. Thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I did writing it.

Elizabeth stood frozen in place by her own astonishment and bewilderment at seeing Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire standing not only in Hertfordshire, but in Meryton, and attending the very assembly of which she herself was now in attendance. The longer she observed him, the more astonished and bewildered she became; and these feelings conducted her thoughts most incoherently—a sensation not unlike the internal confusion she felt when Mr. Darcy and his sister had called upon her at the inn in Lambton all those months ago. If she had a greater presence of mind in that moment, she would have silently resented his domineering presence for discomposing her a second time. She did not, however, and so she could do nothing but stare at that gentleman and wonder.

How could it be that he should be there in Hertfordshire without Elizabeth hearing anything about it? Though she could quite easily believe that Mr. Darcy would be acquainted, and even friends, with a wealthy, young gentleman such as Mr. Bingley, she could not quite fathom how she should not have been told this or that he would be staying with that gentleman by his sister. Indeed, Elizabeth recalled naming both Mr. Bingley and the house that he had let in the neighbourhood in her letter to Georgiana but two weeks prior to that assembly. With increasing confusion and unease, Elizabeth endeavoured to recollect Georgiana's latest letter to herself, which she had received and read earlier that day. Although little of the letter's particular contents came distinctly to her agitated mind, she felt quite sure that in it there was no mention of Mr. Darcy being one of the party staying at Netherfield.

How could one account for this? It could be possible that Mr. Darcy was ignorant of her living in Hertfordshire, and so near Netherfield, but his sister knew. Had she never told him? Elizabeth frowned and no sooner had she thought this question than she almost entirely dismissed it, for Georgiana and herself had been corresponding regularly those two or three months past; time and letters enough for Georgiana to make some mention of it, or even for Mr. Darcy to discover it himself. No, she thought it very unlikely that he would not know that he was headed to the very neighbourhood of his sister's correspondent. So why then had Georgiana made no mention of it in her letter?

It took Elizabeth only a brief moment to produce the most likely answer: Georgiana did not know. Or, to put it more bluntly, Mr. Darcy had not told her. She found herself unable to provide any account for this development; that is, no explanation to the gentleman's credit. There was, however, a suspicion that whispered beneath these thoughts, which, if proved to be correct, would have been a great disappointment, indeed.

Could it be, thought she, he has deliberately concealed this visit to Hertfordshire from Georgiana? If so, what could be gained from such concealment? For the latter question, Elizabeth needed barely a moment to summon recollections of certain instances, particular phrases spoken and sentiments conveyed, and to recall opinions she had harboured in Derbyshire, to quite sufficiently answer it.

"I would not—do not—wish to have such a person in my circle of acquaintances, and neither, dear sister, should you," he had said to Georgiana, after only knowing Elizabeth a few short moments, when he could be reasonably confident that the two young women would never meet again, much less become friends. How much more disdain did he feel toward that friendship, though it was pursued more by his sister than by her acquaintance, several months after its formation?

It was with reluctance that Elizabeth considered this, for she had long since determined, with the aid of time and numerous favourable accounts of him from his sister, to almost entirely forget those words he spoke. Indeed, her lasting impression of Mr. Darcy's character was left on the last occasion they met: the dinner party at Pemberley. On that occasion, Mr. Darcy was everything polite, if perhaps too reserved to be deemed amiable. Furthermore, her uncle had reported, to the amazement of his wife and niece alike, that Mr. Darcy had apologized to him for his behaviour.

Elizabeth found she did not know what to think. In the absence of any other explanation to justify him, Elizabeth was tempted to surmise this to be true: that Mr. Darcy deliberately concealed his visit to Hertfordshire from his sister, most probably owing to his disapproval of her choice of confidantes.

"Lizzie?" Jane's concerned voice interrupted Elizabeth's musings. "Are you well?"

"Yes, Jane, I am well," answered Elizabeth, returning her attention to her companions and forcing a smile.

"Do you know that gentleman, Lizzie?" Charlotte inquired.

"Indeed," replied she, "I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of him and his sister, Georgiana, in Derbyshire this summer past."

"So this is the gentleman," returned Charlotte, considering him with her gaze. "If I recall correctly from your own account of the meeting, it was anything but pleasurable, for either party." Charlotte observed her friend a moment before continuing with an amused, knowing look: "However, I am glad that the displeasure was not of a persisting nature, for he is awfully handsome."

Before she could truly appreciate the affect that her last remark had on her friend's complexion, Charlotte was summoned by her mother to be introduced to Mr. Bingley and his party; and though Elizabeth knew that Charlotte's teasing was good-natured, she was relieved to be spared from further prodding.

Although Jane remained in her sister's company, she could sense Elizabeth's uneasiness at the surprising arrival of Mr. Darcy, and though was herself curious as to why her sister should be apprehensive at such a development, she felt it best not to broach that subject which Elizabeth, by all appearances, wished most to avoid. She did, however, with gentle concern, inquire once more after her sister's wellbeing, to which her sister replied: "Yes, dear Jane, I am well." This appeared to Jane to be more a statement of faith than of fact; however, it seemed to have been effective, for now Elizabeth smiled with ease and, one might even say, with defiance. "Indeed, I am determined to be."

At that moment, Mrs. Bennet hurried to where her two eldest daughters were standing, all the while calling, "Girls! Girls!" When she had reached them, with hushed urgency and excitement, she whispered, "See that gentleman over there? I have just heard it from Lady Lucas that he is Mr Bingley's oldest friend. His name is Darcy, and he has a mighty fortune, and a great estate in Derbyshire. Bingley's wealth is nothing to his. Ten thousand a year at least! Don't you think he's the handsomest man you've ever seen, girls?"

"Mamma, I think I should tell you –" Elizabeth began, but was soon hushed by her mother at the approach of Sir William with the two young gentlemen.

"Mrs. Bennet," Sir William greeted the woman warmly, "Mr. Bingley has expressed a wish to become acquainted with you and your daughters."

"Sir, that is very good of you!" she enthused, addressing Mr. Bingley. As she began introducing her daughters, Elizabeth's eyes moved to search the face of the other young gentleman, but was slightly startled to find his gaze already upon her.

"Miss Elizabeth," said Mr. Darcy, bowing, once Mrs. Bennet had concluded her introductions. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

Elizabeth would never admit it, but she was somewhat pleased that he publicly acknowledged her as an acquaintance, though his somewhat cool demeanour did not entirely reflect his stated feeling of pleasure.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth smiled and curtsied, "The pleasure is mine. Is your sister well?"

Before Darcy could reply, however, Mrs. Bennet, who was only momentarily stunned into silence by her daughter having such an acquaintance, soon composed herself and squealed in delight: "Lizzie, you dark horse! Won't you introduce your dear mamma to this handsome, young man?" Elizabeth blushed at her mother's shamelessness, and gave her a pointed look, which her mother happily ignored.

"Of course, mamma," said she, attempting to mask her embarrassment with a forced smile. "Mamma, this is Mr. Darcy. I had the pleasure of making his and his sister's acquaintance when I visited Derbyshire this summer. Mr. Darcy, this is my mother."

Mr. Darcy's bow was slight and stiff, and his expression perhaps a degree cooler than it was previously. Mrs. Bennet, on the other hand, oblivious to his manner, curtsied blissfully, and perhaps, in part, triumphantly, for not even Lady Lucas could boast such an acquaintance of her daughter.

"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy addressed her somewhat hurriedly again, before her mother could interrupt. "If you're not otherwise engaged, would you do me the honour of dancing the next with me?"

After a momentary pause, she answered: "I thank you, yes."

Having apparently fulfilled his purpose in addressing that lady, and before her mother could say anything more, Mr. Darcy bowed once more and returned to where his party was standing on the other side of the room. As Bingley asked if he could be so bold as the claim the next two dances with the eldest Miss Bennet, thereby attracting to himself Mrs. Bennet's lavish compliments and exclamations of gratitude, Elizabeth stared after Mr. Darcy with an arched brow. She tried and failed to reconcile this latest interaction with her earlier thoughts. However, even if he only approached her and asked her to dance out of a sense of obligation due to her friendship with his sister, she may be thoroughly diverted that a man of such wealth and consequence should feel obliged in any way to her. She could almost hear her father's voice whispering to her to be cautious that such power not go to her head. At this, she allowed herself a small, pert smile.

As Jane and Mr. Bingley conversed lightly, Mrs. Bennet returned her attention to her second-eldest daughter, who was no longer, most disappointingly, standing with a wealthy bachelor of her own.

"Lizzie," Mrs. Bennet huffed impatiently, "what did you say to Mr. Darcy to make him leave so quickly? You know you will never convince any man to marry you if you do not learn to hold your tongue."

Elizabeth, somewhat irritated by this accusation and the embarrassment she still felt from her mother's own careless speech, began to retort: "Mamma, I believe it was your–"

"Oh well, it is of no matter now. When you dance with Mr. Darcy, dear Lizzie, you will just have to try harder to secure him. Ah! see what Jane does! She smiles prettily and says very little. Do as she does, Lizzie, for no man wants a wife who argues."

Fortunately, for mother and daughter alike, the sound of the dancers applauding the musicians, and the return of Mr. Darcy to lead Elizabeth to the dance-floor interrupted their conversation. As the pair joined the other couples and awaited the first chords of the next song, Elizabeth, still flushed with annoyance at her mother, suddenly felt conscious of many pairs of eyes fixed upon her. From the gentlemen, these stares contained little more than mild interest, and only lasted a few moments before their attention returned to things of far greater importance, such as discussions of the war or their glasses of wine. The ladies, on the other hand, stared with varying degrees of surprise, curiosity and envy, and though many of them, mothers and daughters alike, endeavoured to appear to take little interest in the couple, their eyes rarely left the couple for the duration of the dance.

The musicians began, the couples honoured their partners and the dancing recommenced. Both Darcy and Elizabeth silently admired the dancing of their partner—Elizabeth Darcy's grace and Darcy Elizabeth's liveliness. Several minutes passed in which they danced without speaking a word, though Darcy often looked as though he wished to speak. In the end, it was Elizabeth, considering the strange appearance of two people remaining entirely silent for quarter of an hour together, who first spoke.

"Is this your first time staying in Hertfordshire, Mr. Darcy?"

Darcy answered in the affirmative, and was again silent.

After a pause, she addressed him again: "And how do you like Hertfordshire?"

"Well enough. Though I have not yet seen much of the country."

Elizabeth nodded, but said nothing else. Perhaps if her mind was not so full of whether or not Mr. Darcy had concealed his visit to Hertfordshire from his sister, she could have said something of intelligence and interest. As it was, she now regretfully supposed that it would have perhaps been better to remain dancing in silence than to conduct such dull conversation. Fortunately, Darcy appeared to be as distracted as herself, and so did not appear to mind.

The dance was half over before she composed her mind enough to inquire after his sister.

"Does your sister remain in London?"

Several moments passed in which Darcy looked as though he was considering how to reply. Eventually, and with measured expression, he answered, "My sister is well where she is."

Elizabeth's tone took on an imperceptibly icy edge as she replied, "Indeed."

She felt more convinced than ever that the man standing across from her disapproved of her friendship with his sister, for why else should he answer such a simple, unobjectionable question so hesitantly and with so clear a design of remaining vague? Rather than becoming dismayed by this, however, Elizabeth smiled sweetly at her dance partner, her eyes sparkling with lively intelligence.

"I am sure she is very sorry to be separated from you," said she, and then continuing lightly, lest her first remark sound too sarcastic: "She has written very highly of you in her letters."

Darcy looked at her steadily as he replied: "Has she, indeed?"

"Yes. I recall she particularly praised your fair-mindedness and generous nature."

Whether the slight, momentary blush that followed these remarks were born of pleased embarrassment or shame, Elizabeth could not tell—though she would wager that it was the latter.

After a few moments pause, Darcy began with somewhat agitated determination. "Miss Elizabeth, there is something I must say to you." The lady raised her chin to meet his gaze boldly, as if to challenge him.

They had by now progressed to the top of the line of couples, where many mothers and daughters congregated nearby in small groups to eagerly watch and chat about the dancing. In the brief pause that followed Darcy's pronouncement, and before he could continue, an exchange between two middle-aged women but a few paces off drifted to where Darcy and Elizabeth were dancing.

"Mrs. Long had it from Mrs. Bennet," said one of the women, "that she met the gentleman and his sister in Derbyshire this summer." The other woman cooed with excitement at this fresh piece of information. "Yes, indeed! And according to her, the sister and Miss Elizabeth have been writing ever since. They are quite good friends, apparently. Oh, look! There's the young Miss dancing with Mr. Darcy now."

By the stern look that settled upon the countenance of Mr. Darcy as he looked at the chatting women, Elizabeth was quite confident that he had heard the exchange. Darcy said no more, and a minute later, the dance was over.

After the couples had honoured their partners once more, the gentlemen escorted the ladies back to their friends, as is the custom. As Elizabeth placed her hand on Darcy's arm and allowed him to convey her across the room, she felt tremendously grateful that they would soon be separated—with any luck, for the remainder of the evening. Indeed, for although he was the much respected elder brother of her friend, she could not wish to spend any more time in the company of a man whose countenance so evidently displayed his disapprobation of, if not herself, then at least the public knowledge of her being an acquaintance of his sister. What surprise and dread, then, must Elizabeth have felt when Mr. Darcy lead her not to her friends, but rather to a more secluded corner a few paces away.

In her state of astonishment and confusion, Elizabeth would have struggled greatly indeed to find something to say; fortunately, this effort was unnecessary, for it was the gentleman who initiated their private conference.

"Miss Elizabeth, there is something I must say."

Elizabeth, composing herself, arched her eyebrow and smiled pleasantly as she said: "So you said."

Darcy withdrew his gaze from her face and cast it slightly down instead to the wall beside her as he continued: "I believe you recall, as well as I, certain events that occurred last summer when you visited Pemberley that one could describe as… regrettable."

Elizabeth's jaw dropped sightly and she stared with wide indignant eyes at the gentleman. Fortunately, her back was to the assembly and Mr. Darcy persisted in refusing to look at her, so her expression remained unseen.

"Indeed," he continued, "I cannot look back upon that time without abhorrence." When Darcy returned his gaze to the face of the lady after this last remark, he appeared to be somewhat surprised by the look of offence that greeted him. This and apparently not knowing how to go on silenced the gentleman; however, that silence was soon filled by the voice of another.

"So this is where you have been hiding, Mr. Darcy," said a tall, fashionable woman, as she stopped next to the gentleman whom she was addressing. "My sister and I had almost begun despairing of you."

"Miss Bingley," said he, the expression on his countenance, rather than unsettling further, reassumed its characteristic impenetrable appearance, "may I introduce you to Miss Elizabeth Bennet? My sister and I met Miss Elizabeth last summer in Derbyshire."

Had Elizabeth not been, at that moment, endeavouring to steady her own expression, she would have noticed that Mr. Darcy had not, in fact, given a reply to Miss Bingley's remarks and that Miss Bingley had been really quite rude to interrupt an obviously private conversation between two people, one of which being a person with whom she was not yet formally acquainted. Even had Elizabeth noticed this latter point, however, it is very unlikely that she would have been offended, for Mr. Darcy's efforts had already affronted her enough for the both of them.

With a superior smile, Miss Bingley accepted the introduction and the two ladies curtsied briefly to each other.

"So this is the famous Miss Eliza Bennet. How delightful." Miss Bingley smiled graciously as she said this, but that smile did not quite reach her eyes. "I have heard much about you already from dear Georgiana."

Elizabeth was tempted to glance at Darcy, but, soon thinking better of it, focused her attention on her new acquaintance, forced a good-natured smile and said, "Have you, indeed?"

"Oh, yes. Now, don't be frightened. I know that it can be rather disconcerting to hear someone one has never met say, 'Ah, I have already heard a great deal about you from so-and-so', for one has no idea what that person has been told or whether one can live up to the representation of their character that was produced by another. Let me reassure you, Miss Eliza, that I am quite sure that Georgiana was too kind with her praise, and so you need not feel any unnecessary pressure."

"Well then," Elizabeth said sweetly, "I believe you have me at quite a disadvantage, for I have heard nothing about you."

Miss Bingley's smile twitched. "I must compliment you on your dancing, Miss Eliza. You are, perhaps, a little too lively and imprecise in your movements to truly excel in more fashionable circles, but for a country dance, such as this, you do remarkably well."

"Miss Bingley," Darcy quickly interjected, "I am sure Mrs. Hurst is quite anxious for your company."

Miss Bingley looked as though she would protest, but something in the sternness of Mr. Darcy's expression silenced her and soon sent her walking back across the room, her gait a little too hurried to be called truly elegant.

Both Elizabeth and Darcy were joined in their relief as they watched Miss Bingley go. For Elizabeth, however, the feeling was of short duration.

"Miss Elizabeth," said Darcy, returning his attention to her, "if you will allow, I would like to finish our conversation."

She fixed him with her sharp gaze. "I do not think there is much more to be said between us, Mr. Darcy."

"There is," replied he, his tone a little more taken aback than emphatic. In another part of the room, couples applauded the musicians at the conclusion of a dance.

"I thank you for the dance, Mr. Darcy. Now, please excuse me." Elizabeth turned to leave but was soon arrested by the appearance of another man.

"Darcy," Bingley's light-hearted voice called as he approached. "I believe you are keeping me from my dance partner. Shall we, Miss Elizabeth?"

With the first genuine smile she had worn since before her dance with Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth accepted the arm of Mr. Bingley and left a rather disappointed Darcy behind. It would have, however, greatly surprised Elizabeth to know the reason for his disappointment—or, indeed, the motive for his asking her to dance. In short, he wished to apologise for his behaviour to her at their first meeting—a wish he had held since they last parted, and which had become more pronounced with the passage of time. Since he had known of Bingley's intention to attend the Meryton Assembly, he had determined to ask Elizabeth to dance to fulfil this very purpose. Although this had been his plan for some days, when the moment finally arrived, he knew not how to begin, and when he did, the nearness of the gossiping mothers had kept him silent.

As Darcy stood alone in that corner of the room, in his mind he could still see the face of Elizabeth as he recalled his poor behaviour to her at Pemberley. Darcy sighed. How offended she had appeared at the memory. As he gazed across the room at Elizabeth's light form dancing and laughing with Bingley, he felt almost certain that he stood, most sadly, beyond the bounds of her forgiveness.