A/N: Apologies that it's been so long since the last update, I've had a few deadlines (argh) but all on the way. I hope to be more regular this week now that we're over that hurdle. Thank you for sticking with it! The weather's getting nicer now as well – I even saw a crocus poking its head up last week!

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Engaged to be married – to George Wickham! Darcy threw his hat across the room. It hit the arm of the far chair and skittered to the floor. He sprawled back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.

Despite his best efforts, he was still plagued by thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. After his holidays at Pemberley, spent with Georgiana in a festival of lights and home comforts, Darcy had returned to Hertfordshire with a fresh spirit. As Bingley was still intent on Miss Bennet's sister, Darcy had even entertained thoughts of - well, of entertaining her. Of inviting her to dinner - a small family meal, nothing too grand, nothing to make him fretful, as he often was in company - and hearing her speak once again. Perhaps, if she was as he remembered her, of gently inquiring if her mind - if her heart could possibly shape itself to -

But this was all moot. George Wickham had slipped in and pipped him to the post. Miss Bennet was glowing on his arm - and the fiery spark in her eyes made it clear, even if her words were sharply cordial, that she disdained Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy more than ever.

Though it was only just gone four o'clock in the afternoon, the January sky was darkening already, and several of the candles were lit against the dimming grey. Darcy crossed the room to Bingley's liquor cabinet and poured himself a large glass of brandy. No need to trouble a servant. He would be keeping his own company today.

As if summoned by his desire to be alone, Bingley appeared. Darcy seated himself wordlessly, bracing himself for his friend's cheery blast of conversation.

"Caroline has had the kindest note from Miss Bennet," Bingley said warmly, never waiting for a nod or a welcome. "She is the loveliest – the most delightful – I find I am quite entranced."

"You have been quite entranced since the day we attended that exceptionally tedious dance," Darcy said. He generally enjoyed his friend's company, but the subject of romance – particularly one that struck so close to his own coup de coeur – was the last thing he wished to dwell on tonight. Yet he could not resist speaking his mind, especially when it touched his friend's happiness. "I have seen no reason that your affection should be so fixed, especially not on the part of the lady."

Bingley looked almost halfway to being affronted. "I am sure you are mistaken," he said. "Anyway, if she does not affect me now, I shall do my best to make sure she does by the end of winter. I shall woo her."

"You," Darcy said dryly. He took a sip of his brandy. It warmed his throat, at least, and that was something.

"At the last ball, her company was most pleasing," Bingley said. "The way forward is clear. I shall ask her to another."

Darcy sat up briskly, uncrossing his legs and throwing his feet to the floor. "You shall ask Miss Bennet to your ball – what, all the Miss Bennets?"

Bingley mistook his meaning entirely. "Oh, I don't mind the younger ones. Of course they are silly – but what consequence is that to me and my happiness?" he cried. "Miss Bennet is the perfectest creature. We shall not have to entertain her sisters when we are married."

"If you are married," Darcy corrected. He was alarmed – his friend's fantasies were too like his own. "What makes you think Miss Bennet is amenable to your suit?"

Bingley looked so surprised and hurt, that Darcy almost regretted asking the question. But it was not the wrong thing, to make sure his friend was making the right decision. Darcy himself had been mistaken - so drastically mistaken - in the character and sentiment of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It was only right that he should help his friend to prevent him from erring.

"She is the loveliest girl," Bingley said plaintively.

"Yes, yes, and you are the loveliest gentleman," Darcy snapped. "It is all very well for those of you who think so. But life is not all buttercups and roses. Perhaps your affections may be misplaced."

Bingley took this on the chin, and lifted the body part in question. "I take your challenge," he said simply, "and I will respond in kind. I will invite Miss Bennet to my New Year's ball - indeed I will invite all the Miss Bennets," he said, confrontationally. "I will press my suit, which I believe to be at least reciprocated. You may do as you like."

"I do not know why we are friends," Darcy said.

"It is because of your winning disposition, and my practical one," Bingley said, beaming, and ducked out of the room before Darcy could throw something at him.

Mr. Hurst was the next to interpose on Darcy's meditations, announcing that Miss Bingley had proposed a game of whist. Did Mr. Darcy care to make a fourth? Darcy did not. Mr. Hurst closed the door with a humph. Darcy sat and sipped his brandy – 'sipped' being the genteel term. The first glass disappeared – then another.

It would not be so bad if it were not Wickham, he reasoned with himself. Indeed, Darcy had not even fully convinced himself that he could reasonably pursue Miss Bennet – that the fruits of such pursuit would be desirable even if they were grasped. She would certainly get along well with Georgiana. She got along well with everyone – except him, of course. Rather too well! Darcy poured a third glass with a too-careful hand. Was not her taste in her engagement a sign of a deeper flaw? Yet even as this reassuring thought crossed his mind, Darcy had to acknowledge that he knew only too well the depth and skill of Wickham's persuasive lies. The fault was rather his, and his alone, for not warning Miss Bennet against him before it was too late.

Yet why should he have known? This course of events was certainly not expected. Miss Bennet had no fortune to speak of, as Darcy knew all too well. So why was Wickham interested?

The unpleasant thought, which Darcy had been trying to push away, came up from the back of his mind. He must consider the possibility that the engagement between Mr. Wickham and Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a love match. The thought was so abhorrent that he flinched on thinking it.

Whatever the reason, Darcy must act. The happiness of not only Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in his hands – if the consequences of whatever Wickham was planning fell on Miss Jane Bennet as well, it could reverberate to Bingley – the effects were neverending.

He rang the bell for a servant, and requested pen and paper. If he was to manage somehow to sever Wickham and Miss Bennet, it must be at this ball Bingley was planning – and he must be prepared in all ways. He must send to Pemberley – for Darcy was in no way convinced his travelling wardrobe was up to snuff for such a tall occasion.

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How unusual for Darcy to be making an effort at a ball for once! Let's see if it makes a difference…