Nothing personal to Jane Austen, but a mildly precocious Georgiana fits better with this story, so I'll be fashioning her after the 2005 movie version. Do enjoy!

She didn't believe she had ever seen him smile before. It was such a pleasant, wondrous, peaceful sight. When she first met him at the assembly he had seemed so aloof and forlorn. As if the prospect of dancing with all of the animated country folk simply filled him with dread. Since then, Elizabeth had learnt that this was his customary behavior at dances. His countenance was just as hard at the Netherfield ball as it was at the Meryton assembly.

After that digression of thought, she concluded that she had never seen him truly smile before. Even as small as the curve of his mouth was, this had to be a true Darcy smile. The bright morning light emanating from the window lit his pale grey eyes and made his whole face seem like a different one; one with fewer troubles. His brow seemed lighter and less encumbered by woe and self-made troubles.

As the pleasant conversation (admittedly only a few short sentences) between herself and his sister, Miss Georgiana, lulled, she found her own eyes drawn to his. He was still smiling that peaceful, joyous smile, it seemed, just for her.

Had she noticed the sly look Georgiana gave her brother, Elizabeth would have turned bright red and refused to meet his eyes for the rest of the journey. As it was, she didn't notice anything but when his eyes left hers, and turned to her Uncle Gardiner. She suddenly seemed cold, not only with the loss of this strangely warm side of him she had just seen, but with her suddenly perceived rudeness, having not immediately introduced her relatives to the Darcy's.

As Mr. Darcy invited Uncle to a fishing trip, she couldn't help but wonder at the change she viewed in him. Was it her perception? Had his letter changed her thusly, opening her mind to the kindness and warmth in his personality? Or had something truly changed in his countenance?

As the day went on, she concluded that, perhaps some of each of those possibilities were true.

Her Aunt and Uncle went on to inquire on the manner of her and Mr. Darcy's acquaintance. She saw his eyes suddenly turn to her, a sharp look on his brow. Somewhere deep in her mind, she conceived that he was unpleased with his behavior at the Assembly that day, and only mentioned to her guardians that they had met there, and then proceeded to recall Bingley's ball at Netherfield, and recounted his ease and proficiency at dancing.

Upon finishing her misleading speech, she caught Mr. Darcy's near frown turn to another one of those calm smiles. She then caught sight of another one of Georgiana's smirks, her head tilted oddly towards Elizabeth. She simply smiled back, and decided that she quite liked this young lady and her politely mischievous ways.

Mr. Darcy stood, and proposed a small tour of the grounds and gardens before luncheon. As the party filed out of the sitting room behind Georgiana, Darcy offered her his arm.

Admittedly, she had begun to wonder if her first judgment of this man was not false, but she hesitated, for a second, wondering what impression she was giving him now. Improper? Was she being too eager? Yet, as she failed to act, simply watching him for a moment, she saw that peaceful smile falter, almost imperceptibly, but falter nonetheless, and that decided her. She slipped her fingers into 

the crook of his elbow as lightly as possible, and quit the room, taking care not to stand too close to him-despite how pleasant that sounded. Was this temptation?

"Miss Elizabeth," She heard him murmur as Georgiana began to loudly discourse the finer points of the patio they were making towards. She glanced up at him, and could not stop her left hand from joining her right on his bicep. "I must thank you for your … discreet omission of fact. I doubt your Aunt and Uncle would have been pleased to hear of my behavior towards you on that night." His voice was so soft and appealing. She smiled serenely as her reply made its way to her mouth.

"I doubt they would have been pleased to hear of your behavior towards me on the night I spoke of either." She immediately regretted her words, and even more so as she felt him sigh, and cut off his response with her own. "Though my behavior was even more displeasing than your own, provoking your anger. I feel… that I must apologize for that."

She felt his curious stare on her cheeks as a red heat that spread over her body. They each remained silent, though whether they were absorbed in Georgiana's seemingly unending knowledge of the plants and flowers in the gardens or simply worried in each other's company was unclear. The Gardiner's, however, seemed most impressed by Georgiana, amused by her intelligence and bright nature.

"Sir." Elizabeth said softly, suddenly having gotten her courage together enough to ask a particular question of this enigma of a man.

"Yes?" His reply was sudden, as if he were startled by her.

"I only wish to inquire, sir, why, particularly, did you invite my Aunt and Uncle to visit you on this day?" She knew it was a baited question—she knew—but it was the only kind she had been able to ask him since they met. And she was dying for him to speak to her again in that soft tone he just used.

"Must you really ask?"

Mr. Darcy wouldn't meet her eyes as she looked him over, for what seemed like the thousandth time this morning. He seemed so out of sorts around her, always jumping when she spoke to him, his hands fidgeting and shaking when he spoke to her, his eyes always lingering a bit too long on her own. A realization suddenly struck her; he still retained the same feelings he expressed at their visit at Rosings!

She suddenly was struck again with the same fit of uncertainty that she had experienced upon reading his letter. So many things about him were so enigmatic. From his treatment of others, to the many and varying reports of his behavior and qualities, she did not know what to think of him, whether or not she could trust him directly.

She turned to gazing at him. Visually, he was nothing if not immaculate. His boots were shining and clean, clothing perfectly tailored and in good taste, not the least bit gaudy, his features were dark as usual, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, fine mouth set in a grim line. He was much too serious, she decided.

"Must you always answer a question with another?" She inquired, delving into another inquisition on his character; hopefully this attempt would turn out better than her attempt at Bingley's ball.

His eyes sharply settled on her face, and she couldn't help but smile a bit broader. He looked terribly startled.

"I get the distinct impression, Mr. Darcy, that you do not smile enough."

"It is entirely possible." He answered stiffly.

"Come, look at your sister, she seems quite comfortable and well able of making pleasant and thoroughly intelligent conversation. Why can you not?"

"You have already stated the reason for this; I am 'out of practice.'" She could only assume he was referring to their conversation at Rosings.

"I may just have to pull your social skills out of mothballs, then." His subdued chuckle was enough to gratify her attempts for the rest of the day.

"So, Mr. Darcy, what do you think of the weather today?"

"The weather?"

"Is that not what I said?"

"Must you always answer a question with another question?"

"Touché! " She laughed out loud now, "Yet I notice, you still haven't told me anything regarding the weather."

"Please forgive me, madam. I find it terribly pleasant today."

"Is that all?"

"I hope it doesn't rain."

"And why is that?"

"I am hoping to fish today with your uncle."

"I see. Well, I believe it is your turn to choose a topic."

"Fascinating. How do you determine this?" His tone was mockingly sarcastic, yet his eyes were sparkling.

"I get the feeling you are making fun of me, Mr. Darcy." She pretended to scold.

"Impossible!"

"I rather believe it isn't!"

"What if I told you that you are correct; I am making fun of you."

"Then I would say that it's working. We've had an entire conversation now, and I think you've said nearly as many words as I have."

"I believe you are mistaken. I haven't said nearly as much as you would like to suppose."

"Well in that case, do keep talking."

"Very well, on what subject?"

"I said it was your turn, remember?"

"So you did—fair enough. How do you feel about music?"

"I love it. However, I much prefer it when other people play."

"Why is that?"

"I never enjoyed sitting still long enough to learn to play very well, and as a consequence, am far from the greatest at the art."

"But your playing is quite wonderful."

"So I have heard that you believe. But you have not heard me sing."

"Should I beware?"

"I'm not as horrible as all that, thank you! But what about your own tastes in music?"

"I must confess that I quite enjoy it as well. I encourage my sister to play since I cannot."

"It is fortunate, then, that her love of the art is as deep as your own."

"This is most true. I enjoy hearing her play as much as I can enjoy anything. "

"That is most touching. Your sister must be truly dear to you."

"She is."

"I cannot imagine what it would be like to have only one."

"Sister?"

"Yes. I've always had so many!"

"Forgive me if I consider you fortunate. Often with only me and Georgiana in the house it was habitually quiet."

"Something I have absolutely no frame of reference for."

"I could imagine. I'm sure Longbourne was ever active."

"Certainly. Only what do you mean by your word 'was'?" Her query was only answered by a shy Darcy smile.

"I was only referring to what it must have been like in your childhood with all five of you at the estate."

"Yes, all five of us, and most of the Lucas children, and any other young progeny in the village who might happen to be around."

"So often even more than five?"

"Very often more than five."

"Do you ever miss the company?"

"Hardly. Any chance I get I'm grateful for the quiet."

"You must then treasure this outing with your Aunt and Uncle."

"I do." She smiled at him again, thrilled at how long a conversation they had had. Any dialogue with this gentleman had become exceedingly precious to her. She stored away memories of their speech to dwell on later, when he was gone. Despite the letter, and his proclaimed affection for her, Mr. Darcy remained a mystery.

oooooooo

"My dear Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy is a most pleasant individual." Mrs. Gardiner said, bringing out the compliment in hopes that her niece might speak a little more on the bachelor. She had noticed the close proximity the two had insured to the other throughout the visit to Pemberley that day, and was simply dying to know more, however could not bring herself to pry directly.

"I suppose he is."

"Your uncle said he was most civil during their fishing trip. Wonderful company, he said he was."

"Did he?"

"Yes, dear."

"Mm, fascinating."

Needless to say, Mrs. Gardiner's hopes of interesting news were dashed as a maid handed Elizabeth two letters.

"Oh, they're from Jane!"

I'm really very sorry about this. I just love writing banter, and I couldn't resist leading into that next bit.