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M eryton was a fairly small village market in Hertfordshire with a society filled with mostly good-humoured but rather crass people. The crush at the monthly local assembly was overwhelming, and Darcy, who could not remember when he had last attended any country assembly, was struggling to hide his distaste.

Truly, he was not so unreasonable as to assume that every person in the room was beneath him. In consequence, perhaps, but Darcy knew and was friendly with enough people of lower classes to understand that intelligence and good breeding were not qualities confined to the first circles. His irritation had less to do with the people in attendance and more to do with how many of them there were. Well, that, and the number of matrons and their daughters already whispering amongst themselves about the particulars of his marital status and fortune.

Bingley was very much enjoying himself, dancing the set with a blonde woman who, as far as Darcy could tell, had yet to stop smiling. She had been introduced to his party as Miss Jane Bennet, the eldest of the four Bennet daughters. Possibly the only true beauty in the room, Darcy might have even bothered to ask her for a set himself were it not for the vacant look in her eyes that was echoed in almost every young socialite he met, and if her mother was not so very obviously mercenary, watching every young, single gentleman of means with that particularly predatory gleam in her eyes.

Instead, Darcy did his best, despite his tall height and broad frame, to hide in the shadows and simply observe his surroundings. If one could overlook the middling sense of fashion, the atrocious music, the chipping paint and saw-dust smell of the community, one could very easily relate this scene to any other ball in London. People, after all, were not so very different in essentials. It was all the same. The older men were either drinking punch and discussing work or politics, or they were coming in and out of the card room, while the younger men, though not many when compared to their counterparts, were scouring the place looking for dance partners. The older women had colonised one of the corners near the refreshment tables for their own and were discussing their daughters and nieces, their dresses, their prospective suitors, and other menial country gossip. Quite a few young ladies were sitting out sets due to the scarcity of gentlemen, and Darcy spent as little time as he could observing them , for accidentally catching some lady's eye from that quarter and having her think that he was gazing would be nothing short of the height of punishment.

Just then, at the end of one of the sets, Bingley found him, a grin on his jovial face and a flush spreading over his cheeks so red as to rival the colour of his hair,

"There you are, Darcy! Come, I must have you dance!"

"I most certainly will not." Darcy crossed his arms over his chest in discomfort, but only for a moment before once again uncrossing them, realising the action could be interpreted as ungentlemanly because of how stand-offish it looked, "You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. Besides, if I start now, your sister will expect a set too, and I am in no humour to satisfy her machinations tonight."

Bingley gave his friend a sheepish smile, but did not contradict him. Privately, Bingley did not find the idea of Darcy and Caroline making a match quite so outlandish. Both of them were elegant, fashionable people and not only was Caroline well educated in all the subjects gentlewomen were expected to be well versed in, she was also a handsome lady and had an ample dowry of twenty thousand pounds.

"I would not be as fastidious as you are for a kingdom! Upon my honour, I never met with so many girls in my life, and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty!"

Darcy rolled his eyes, " You are dancing with the only handsome girl in this room." He said, looking at where the eldest Miss Bennet was smiling like a simpleton at the girl standing next to her. Really, did that woman's face even move in any other expression?

"Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is her cousin, Mr. Bennet's niece, his brother's daughter, sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."

"Which do you mean?" Turning around, Darcy's eyes landed on indeed, a very pretty woman. Though, it was not her features that caught his attention. There was something about the lady that distinguished her from the people around her. Something in her air that was decidedly more… refined. She was dressed in a very light cream-yellow evening dress, embellished with delicate floral embroidery which she had paired with matching long lace gloves and a simple string of pearls around her neck.

Her gown was well-tailored and though off-set her sunkissed skin becomingly, it was in no way ostentatious or as over the top as the Bingley sisters' dresses were, considering they were attending an informal country assembly and not the Almack's.

She was conversing with an older lady, a Miss Lucas if he remembered correctly, and the expression on her face- open, artless, and mirthful as she listened to whatever Miss Lucas said was captivating, as was the sparkle in her fine eyes that spoke of a decided intelligence and wit. Darcy found himself staring at her.

"Darcy?"

Startled, Darcy looked back at his friend, who was looking at him in a very funny way, "Yes?"

"Should I get us an introduction?"

And that brought Darcy back to their original conversation. The Bennets' cousin was exquisite, but he really had no intention of dancing. "No." Darcy cleared his throat, "No, she is certainly all that is lovely, but I am in no humour to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your dance partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."

Bingley took his advice and left him to his own devices. Darcy counted to ten in his head, then slowly once again turned around to maybe discreetly get another look at the woman, only to watch a gentleman of maybe Bingley's years approach her and ask her to dance. Two concurring incidents caused Darcy to freeze right in his place:

1. Now that he was paying attention to the lady and the man asking her to dance, he could very easily make out their exchange, which could only mean that the lady herself could have just as easily heard his conversation with Bingley.

2. As if to give further credence to this assumption, just as she was being led to the dance floor, the lady turned her head and caught his eye. She bit her lip as if to stop herself from grinning at him in smug victory and raised a very taunting, very impertinent brow in his direction, causing him to flush both from embarrassment and a sudden, unexpected spell of desire.

Elizabeth Braxton did not know whether to be flattered or insulted by the arrogant Mr. Darcy. He had called her lovely, a compliment which had, quite unexpectedly, caused her to blush (for she had thought him quite attractive, and so it was only fair that he would find her so too). But any goodwill Lizzy might have built towards the aristocratic and rather imperious-looking man had been squashed very neatly by his next words. Slighted by other men, indeed! As if the ratio of men to women at the assembly was not discouragingly unfavourable towards the fairer sex!

To be sure, for every gentleman in attendance, Elizabeth could count three ladies, and considering in those numbers were women like her cousin Jane, who was so very beautiful and gentle, her dance card had filled minutes into entering the hall, and her cousins Lydia and Kitty who, if not asked, were so forward as to look for partners and cajole them into dancing themselves, one could hardly expect to dance every set! And Lizzy thought she had done very well for herself. She had only really sat out the first two sets and the rest of her card was filled for the night. She would have to find a way to thank John Lucas for coming to find her at such a provident time to ask her for the third set. Watching Mr. Darcy's nobly high-set cheeks turn pink had been a moment of glorious vindication and she had agreeably spent the next half-hour dancing with Mr. Lucas by relishing in her victory and chancing quick, brief glances over to where Mr. Darcy stood.

That every time she looked, she found him looking at her , she resolved not to think about too much.

When the dance was over, she had John escort her towards where Charlotte Lucas stood with her cousin Mary. Out of everyone in Meryton, these two ladies were the ones she was closest to, which was a bit ironic, considering the three of their personalities could not be more different.

Mary was the youngest in their trio and was considered to be quiet and straightforward; Charlotte, the eldest, was practical and tenacious; and Elizabeth herself was spirited and stubborn. Each year that Elizabeth came to visit her uncle's family at Longbourn, the three of them spent hours in each other's company, be it by working on embroidery, an activity favoured by Charlotte, or practising the pianoforte, which was largely Mary's domain, or by reading classics and poetry to one another, in which, Lizzy contributed the most by reading aloud and the other two ladies indulged her by listening.

Now, Charlotte gave her an amused look as her younger brother left to get them all punch,

"My dear Lizzy," She teased, "What have you done to poor Mr. Darcy? The man has not stopped looking at you!"

Elizabeth blushed. They were not standing too far from the gentleman, and when Elizabeth sneaked a look, she realised Charlotte was right. What could he mean by it?

"Mr. Darcy?" Mary asked. Unlike Charlotte, she had not heard the gentleman's slight against her cousin, "Have you been introduced? Does he fancy you?"

"No, he does not." Elizabeth very nearly scoffed, but stopped herself, "He thinks of me as a woman slighted by other men and cannot be bothered to ask me for a dance."

Mary's eyes widened to the size of saucers, "He told you so?"

"No." Charlotte grinned, "He was talking with his friend, but his voice carried." Then, waggling her brows, she continued, "And if I remember correctly, he also found your cousin all that was lovely. "

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, "I am sure he was only being polite." At the twin disbelieving looks targeted her way, Elizabeth huffed, "Even if he did find me agreeable, he has been all that is proud and unpleasant since he entered the assembly hall and I care for him not at all." She proclaimed with a happy smile, only for it to fall right off her face when a throat cleared behind her.

Elizabeth shut her eyes tight, cursing her luck, then twirled around with a charmingly bright and equally false smile plastered on her face to meet the man she had just accidentally insulted just as harshly as he had accidentally insulted her.

"Madam." Darcy bowed, fighting conflicting feelings of humour and offence at the lady's words and her now contrite expression.

"Sir." Elizabeth curtsied, "I do not think we have been introduced."

"No." He agreed, then looking behind Elizabeth where Charlotte was trying very hard not to smile, he asked her, "Miss Lucas, if you do not mind-"

"Of course not." Charlotte came forward, "Mr. Darcy, may I introduce to you my particular friends, Miss Elizabeth Braxton and Miss Mary Bennet. Mary, Elizabeth, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire."

"Braxton?" Darcy blurted unthinkingly, then at Elizabeth's raised brow, he flushed, "Forgive me. Bingley mentioned you were Mr. Bennet's niece. I thought-"

"I am." Elizabeth agreed, "My father was his elder brother, but Papa passed away before I was born, and I have always lived with my mother's parents in Wrexham under their guardianship. Naturally, I also took their name." It was a little more complicated than that, but Elizabeth refrained from going further into detail.

Darcy nodded rigidly, mentally cursing himself. Of course, what better way was there to start a conversation with a pretty woman than to remind her of her dead father?

"I am very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, sir."

A moment of silence stretched between the group and Darcy cleared his throat again, trying to gather his wits about himself. Standing this close to her, Miss Braxton was even more attractive to him than before. Her dark hair, styled in a soft Grecian updo, looked thick and lustrous with a few fashionable curls spilling out and softly grazing her nape. Her eyes, glittering under the candlelight, were the finest he had ever seen. They were framed by thick lashes and were looking up at him with such curiosity as if she was attempting to understand his character merely by staring into his soul. Her cheeks were flushed from the exercise and the punch, her lips plump and pink and her nose strong and slightly upturned.

She really was all that was lovely.

"Miss Braxton," Darcy started at the same time music began, announcing the fourth set, "Will you do me the honour of dancing this set with me?"

Elizabeth smiled at him, half in apology and half in teasing, "Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, but my card for the night is full." She tilted her head just so, and her eyes, so very dark, sparked with something sharp as she added, "Fortunately, I have not been so very slighted by the gentlemen after all."

Darcy's cheeks burned, and he attempted to speak, he needed to apologise, but words would not come, and before he could even attempt to say anything, another gentleman, dressed like a dandy in a gold waistcoat and white breeches, swooped in and collected Miss Braxton for his set.

Darcy pursed his lips so as to not huff out loud and his eyes, after following Elizabeth as she walked to the dance floor, naturally returned to where Miss Mary and Miss Lucas were standing in front of him. For a moment he considered asking one of them to dance, but seeing as either way he would not be able to stand up with Miss Braxton tonight, Darcy saw little reason to dance at all. He bowed to the two women stiffly, then excused himself to find an unoccupied, shadowy corner.