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The set had formed with little ceremony, as sets often did. Those who had secured partners stood ready; those who had not watched with varying degrees of resignation or interest.

Charlotte Lucas took her place opposite Mr. Darcy with composed ease. If she felt surprise at the invitation, she did not show it.

"I am obliged to you, sir," she said, inclining her head slightly. "You have saved me from being quite forgotten."

"I hope I have done no more than what is proper," he replied.

Charlotte's mouth curved faintly. "Proper conduct is not always so conveniently timed."

The figure began. They advanced and retreated with the line, the rhythm steady, unhurried.

"You dance well, Miss Lucas," he said after a moment.

"I dance often," she answered simply. "The one generally follows the other."

He glanced at her, as though uncertain whether he was being gently corrected.

"You are not fond of dancing?" she added.

"I do not always find it necessary."

"No," she said. "Nor do many gentlemen… until they have reason." There was no pointedness in her tone. Only observation.

They changed places; the line turned. When she came back to him, her expression had not altered.

"You have given me such a reason tonight," he said, more deliberately.

"I doubt that," Charlotte replied, though not unkindly. "You are not a man to act without motive."

"Then you suppose I have one?"

"I suppose everyone has one."

The music carried them apart again. He found himself considering her more closely than he had done before. There was nothing remarkable in her appearance; no studied charm. And yet she was not easily dismissed.

When they rejoined, he said, "You think me calculated."

"I think you careful."

"That is not always an advantage."

"It depends," she said, "on what one wishes to avoid."

"And what do you suppose I wish to avoid?"

Charlotte met his look directly now, though without boldness. "Being mistaken."

He did not answer at once.

They passed hands. Her touch was light, entirely unselfconscious.

"And you, Miss Lucas?" he asked as the figure brought them together again. "Do you never wish to avoid being mistaken?"

She gave the smallest shrug. "It is seldom in my power to prevent it."

"That is an odd philosophy."

"It is a practical one."

He almost smiled.

They moved through the next figure with quiet precision. Around them, the room continued in its usual animation – laughter, missteps, whispered remarks – but their exchange remained unhurried.

"You observe a great deal," he said at last.

"I have had practice," she replied. "When one is not much observed oneself, one learns to observe others."

There was no self-pity in it. Only fact.

Darcy's expression altered slightly. "You do not resent it?"

"No." A brief pause. "Resentment requires expectation."

"And you have none?"

Charlotte considered that as they turned again.

"I have expectations," she said. "But I do not confuse them with wishes."

The distinction lingered.

"You are a very sensible woman, Miss Lucas."

"I am often told so," she said, with a hint of dry amusement. "It is not always meant as a compliment."

He inclined his head. "It is one from me."

She accepted it with a small, quiet nod.

The figure brought them once more to face one another.

"May I ask you something, sir?" she said.

"You may."

"You asked me to dance because I stood beside Miss Elizabeth."

It was not a question.

Darcy did not attempt to deny it. "That was the occasion."

"And the reason?"

He hesitated, only slightly. "You appeared unengaged."

Charlotte's eyes rested on him with mild patience. "And nothing more?"

He held her gaze, then said, "I wished to do what was proper."

She studied him for a moment longer, then inclined her head.

"That is well," she said. "Though you should know that Miss Elizabeth noticed it."

His attention sharpened. "Indeed?"

"Yes." A faint smile touched her lips. "She was pleased."

Something in that seemed to settle him, though he did not immediately understand why.

The music began to draw toward its conclusion. The final figure approached.

"I hope," Charlotte added, as they took their last positions, "that you will not always require such occasions."

He looked at her more directly now. "Perhaps not," he said.

The set concluded. They bowed.

"Thank you, Miss Lucas," he said.

"And I, sir," she replied.

She moved away without hesitation, leaving him where he stood – no longer quite as certain of his own motives as he had been when the dance began.