Fitzwilliam Darcy anxiously paced the floor of his chambers at Netherfield, completely lost in thought. The estate could crumble to dust around him, and he would pay it no heed. No, his thoughts were occupied by Elizabeth Bennet - there was little room for anything else. He would see her tonight, and the mere thought of it left his heart fit to burst. What little patience he had left had been irrevocably destroyed after their meeting in Meryton and subsequent tête-à-tête at Longbourn.

That smile...it had to have meant something. It looked so...loving. Dare he hope that she had come to love him? Dare he hope that she returned his feelings? Perhaps he would know now, had Miss Lydia not interrupted them. That entire evening had been agonizing for Darcy. The world seemed determined to come between him and his Elizabeth - Miss Lydia, Mrs. Bennet, Mr. Collins…

Mr. Collins! What an odious, repugnant toad of a man! He was just the sort of person Darcy expected his aunt to employ - the obnoxious parson clearly worshipped her, and that was Lady Catherine's most desired trait in those around her. Anyone who pandered and fawned would earn the Lady's condescension. And how dare his aunt spread the rumor of his engagement to Anne! Both he and his cousin had told her countless times that the union would never come to be, but the old woman refused to listen. Every Easter, Darcy was subject to Lady Catherine's grievances. He could tolerate them well enough, so long as they stayed within the family, though it was now clear that his aunt was treating the matter with little discretion. Why he ever believed her capable of anything more, Darcy did not know.

Only one good thing had come from Mr. Collins...

Hope.

Yes, when Darcy witnessed how distraught Elizabeth had become at the news of his supposed engagement, he was filled with hope. Surely, she would not have had such a violent reaction if she did not feel something for him. Darcy desperately wanted to ask after her feelings, to ask if she truly loved him. He could have sworn that she was trying to tell him something at Longbourn - she had such a look upon her face. God, how he wished they had been alone! How he longed to kiss her! To hold her! Darcy couldn't handle it any longer. He did not want to hide his feelings. He was exhausted of all patience, and he feared he would not be able to contain himself upon seeing Elizabeth tonight. Fitzwilliam Darcy was a man violently in love, and he could express himself as nothing but that.

"You are going to completely wear out the carpet at this rate, Darce."

Darcy started at the voice and whipped around to find a very amused Mr. Bingley. Composing himself, he asked, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Oh, about two minutes. I said your name at least four times," Bingley smiled knowingly. "Were you thinking about a pair of fine eyes?"

Darcy coloured and turned to look in the mirror, straightening his cravat. His poor valet had been forced to change his outfit a total of three times until Darcy was satisfied. How was he going to get through the evening?

"The guests will arrive soon," Bingley informed, prompting Darcy to look at the clock. "You are dancing the first with Miss Elizabeth, are you not?"

"I am," the taller man replied, turning back to the mirror. He saw Charles approaching him in the reflection.

"Calm yourself, man," the ginger counseled, placing a hand on Darcy's shoulder. "I saw the way she looked at you at Longbourn. You have nothing to worry about."

The younger man's words placated Darcy, who let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. Elizabeth was easy to talk to - she made him feel comfortable. He could do this. With a nod, the two men exited the room and joined Caroline and the Hursts at the entryway, ready to receive their guests.

"You look remarkably well, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley complimented, fluttering her eyes in a manner Darcy found repulsing.

"I thank you, madame."

"I can not believe Charles agreed to host a ball here! As if we aren't already forced into such miserable company enough!"

Darcy bit his tongue at the insipid woman's remark. He had known Caroline long enough to know that any reply would only encourage further conversation, which is precisely what Darcy wished to avoid.

The entrance of Netherfield was soon crowded with people, all of whom took their sweet time down the receiving line. Darcy watched in amusement as Bingley tried to be an attentive host - anyone who knew the man would have been able to see his eager anticipation of the arrival of his angel. Darcy would be more inclined to tease his friend had he not also been staring at the door, awaiting the arrival of a particular family. He had hoped that the Bennets would be amongst the first in the door, as they were the closest. However, he imagined that preparing for a ball took quite some time in a family of five daughters.

Thankfully, soon enough, Darcy could hear the raucous voice of Mrs. Bennet. He stood up straighter as the family entered, looking for his Elizabeth. He finally spotted her toward the back of the group, arm-in-arm with Miss Bennet.

And, dear God, she looked beautiful.

Her hair was twirled up into a bun, her face still framed by those delightful dark curls. In her hair were small, white flowers, which Darcy though suited his wood nymph perfectly. Her white dress was most becoming, complimenting her figure in all the best ways. She looked more handsome than any woman he'd ever seen in London.

Darcy watched on with bated breath as Elizabeth scanned the crowd as if she were looking for someone. When their eyes finally met, her face broke out into a blinding smile.

She had been looking for him.

Darcy approached the enchanting woman and bowed. "You look lovely, Miss Elizabeth," he whispered, delighting in the way her cheeks reddened.

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she responded somewhat breathlessly, a bright smile still adorning her face. "Jane and I wanted to arrive sooner, but I fear Lydia and Kitty are indecisive when it comes to gowns and ribbons."

"Do not concern yourself. We are now closer to our dance."

"I have yet to see you dance, Mr. Darcy. How am I to know if you are any good?" Elizabeth teased.

Darcy laughed, looking down at the woman in admiration. "I suppose you will have to wait and see. I hope I do not disappoint you."

"I doubt you could disappoint me, even if you tried."

His heart stopped at her words and the earnest look on her face as she said them. Darcy wasn't sure how long they stood there, simply staring at each other. Once again, there was so much to be said, so much to be felt - and his tongue was failing him. Every time he believed himself ready to say something, Elizabeth would smile, and he would lose the words.

"I believe it's almost time for our dance," she said gently.

Darcy looked about the room and saw that people were, indeed, beginning to move to their positions for the first set. He guided Elizabeth to the dance floor, relishing in the warmth of her hand on his arm. As the music started, and the pair began the intricate movements, Darcy could do no more than look at the vision in front of him. The rest of the world, if it even still existed, faded away, and the only thing he could see was Elizabeth. Darcy decided that attending balls would not be so bad if he had his Lizzy by his side - if she were his wife, he could dance every dance with her and would never be forced into a lone corner again. How interesting she would make even the dullest of gatherings! Yes, he could see them doing this for the rest of their lives.

"I must inform you, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said quietly, "that you are, in fact, an excellent dancer."

Darcy smiled. "I am glad you approve, Miss Elizabeth. I don't dance nearly enough."

"Why ever not?"

"I have never before had the right partner."

Elizabeth's face flushed again, but she did not look down. No, she looked him right in the eyes and smiled. "We ought to fix that. Any suggestions?"

Had they not been in the middle of a dance, Darcy would have kissed her then and there. He contented himself with pulling her closer than the dance demanded every time they met. It wasn't nearly enough for him, but it was the best he could do at present.

"I do, in fact, have a suggestion," he finally responded, "but I fear the ball-room floor is a poor place to enlighten you."

"Shall we wait until tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked, the mirth in her eyes betraying her innocent smile.

The mere idea of waiting was more than he could bear. "Have mercy on me, Elizabeth," Darcy whispered.

"The library, then? After the dance?"

"Perfect."

The rest of the set was performed in silence, both parties too happy to do anything but smile at each other. When the music finally ceased, Darcy found himself unwilling to let go of Elizabeth's hand. He led her off the dance floor and analyzed the room - Mr. Bennet was sitting near the punch bowl, Mrs. Bennet was gossiping with the other matrons, Mr. Collins was dancing with Miss Lucas, Miss Bennet was dancing with Charles, Miss Mary was staring in envy at the young girl on the pianoforte, Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia were flirting with the officers, and Caroline and the Hursts were begrudgingly attending to their guests. No one was watching Darcy and Elizabeth.

Perfect.

The pair quickly made for the library, and Darcy was certain that no one had noticed them. He closed the door and turned to Elizabeth, who was simply smiling up at him. Before he could even organize his thoughts, she reached out and cupped his face in her warm, soft hands.

"Now, what was your suggestion? For I love you more than anything in this world, and I dearly wish to help you," she admitted softly, her gaze tender and affectionate.

Darcy could only lean down and kiss her in response.

He had thought that their first kiss was passionate, but he could now see that he was mistaken - this was passionate. Elizabeth responded immediately this time, kissing him back with equal ardor. Darcy could feel everything - her hands on his face, her nose on his cheek, her body pressed deliciously against his - all of it. And, Lord, did it feel good. She was so warm against him, her mere presence fulfilling. How had he lived eight and twenty years without her kisses? How had he lived so long without her?

Much like their first kiss, only a need for air could separate them. Darcy rested his forehead against hers, and they simply stood there, drinking each other in.

Elizabeth broke the silence, voice light, having finally regained her teasing mien. "As wonderful as that was, I fear it was not a suggestion."

Darcy broke out into laughter, holding his Elizabeth tighter. He looked down at her and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose, delighting in her small giggle. He could not hold back the question any longer.

And, finally, he had no reason to.

"Elizabeth Bennet, will you marry me?"

"Yes!"

With her answer, she jumped into his arms, and he swung her around, both lost in perfect happiness.

She was finally his.

He was finally hers.

Darcy remembered the stories his grandfather and father used to tell him about their proposals. The two men would playfully argue about who had been the happiest when they were finally accepted by their wives. His grandfather would say that his wife made him the happiest man in the world. His father, meanwhile, insisted that the happiness he felt when Anne said yes far outweighed that of his grandfather's. Standing here now, his darling Elizabeth in his arms, Darcy felt confident that he had them both beat - no man had ever been, or will ever be, as happy as him.

"What are you thinking about?" Elizabeth asked him.

"How unbelievably grateful I am to my father and grandfather," he answered, stroking her cheek. "For they have brought me to you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."

"I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"And I love you, Elizabeth Bennet."

Darcy sprinkled kisses all over her face, relishing in every sound she made. He moved down to her lips again, and the two of them stood there, locked in a warm embrace, for more time than either was aware of. They didn't care how much time passed. They didn't care who noticed they were gone - they were simply content to be together. When Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet finally did leave the library, they did so hand-in-hand.

And neither of them would ever let go.

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed my little story! I certainly had fun writing it!

I am already working on another, longer Pride & Prejudice fanfiction, so look out for that. I don't like posting by chapter, though, so I will post the story when it is completely done.

Again, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :)