Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters- that right belongs to Miss Jane Austen.

Elizabeth's POV

"Did I just agree to dance with Mr. Darcy?" I asked Charlotte, astonished that while I had every intention to say no to him, my mouth disagreed with my brain. "Yes, Lizzie! What were you thinking?" In truth, I did not know what I had been thinking. I hated the man- he was rude, self centered, and could not take it upon himself to admit that he liked anything. I quietly hid myself amongst the crowd, hoping that by some circumstance Mr. Darcy would forget my promise to dance with him. He did not. I respectfully excused myself from those around me as we walked towards the others set up to dance. I noticed that Jane was dancing with Mr. Bingley again.

Mr. Darcy bowed and I curtseyed, and all the while I could feel his eyes burning into my "tolerable" person. He was quiet, and stared at me with an expression that seemed… different. I found myself enamored with it. He looked like himself, but there was another layer added to his proud, arrogant face, or rather, a layer taken away. He seemed less guarded and more comfortable. I attributed it to the reason that that we were at a private ball being held at Netherfield, a more established place.

We chatted, well really I remarked on a few things and he uttered a few words in response. Mr. Darcy was a fine dancer, and I found myself wondering why he did not dance more often. I glanced up, only to find his chocolate brown eyes staring into mine. Suddenly, everything disappeared, and it was as if the two of us were the only ones dancing in the room. Our gazes were locked on each other, mine in wonderment, and his in… confusion? Passion? I wasn't quite sure; I only knew that whatever was in his eyes made me feel like I might have misjudged him, even with the offences laid against him by Mr. Wickham.

Everything slowly appeared again, and I could see Caroline Bingley staring at me, fuming. I thought it must have been because I was dancing with Mr. Darcy. Despite his lack of conversation, he was a much better partner than Mr. Collins. At this thought, I let out a quiet laugh, only for it to be stifled by the look on Mr. Darcy's face as I caught his eye, the same expression that I still could not quite place.

Not soon enough, our dance was over, and we once again bowed and curtseyed. I walked away, desperate to part from him and his stares. I succeeded for many hours, until he managed to seek me out once more before he left. I had hid in a hallway to avoid him and to cool myself off- the ballroom was stifling hot. When I heard someone walk in and saw that it was him, I was startled. He walked right over to me and I noticed that we were alone. "If I may be so bold, Miss Bennet, I would like to tell you that I enjoyed our dance very much. I am glad we had the opportunity to do so," he said. Before I could respond, he took my hand and slowly brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my fingers. As he began to lower it, I felt a breath upon my hand and his lips moved, still barely touching my fingers.

He let go of my hand completely, stepped back, bowed, and said, "Goodbye Miss Bennet." "Goodbye Mr. Darcy," I whispered.

He walked away and I was left in the hallway. I leaned against a pillar, thinking of what had occurred this evening. I could still feel his lingering lips upon my fingers, and I swear that when he kissed my hand, he whispered something, his voice just a breath, a breeze brushing against my skin. I was sure of what he said. There was no denying it: "I love you."