Chapter 1

H ertfordshire had turned out to be the worst place in the whole of England, Darcy mused as he spurred on his stallion. Wherever he turned, every single day, something unpleasant happened. He had come to support Bingley in settling into the property he had let, but he had soon come to regret his decision.

Darcy had been in Hertfordshire for only a few weeks, yet his life had become a disaster. He had lost his self-control, his self-confidence, and his patience as well as his enjoyment of little things like reading in peace or riding in the morning.

He could not stay indoors as Bingley’s sisters had become insupportable in their rudeness, stupidity, and ridiculous attempts to draw his attention towards the younger of the pair, Miss Caroline Bingley. Out of doors, he was painfully aware of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s presence only three miles away; he could not stop thinking about her, regardless of the distance, but being close to her was exceptionally disturbing. Even at the present time, having escaped Netherfield for a ride, his horse seemed to be taking him closer to her home of Longbourn, as if led by Darcy’s secret desires. Desires that he had refused to acknowledge for weeks, then he had admitted them but had given them no serious thought until he was forced to accept he had fallen in love with a young woman whom he had not found tolerable enough to dance with on their first meeting.

Perhaps fate had a strange sense of humour and was trying to punish him for his rudeness at that fateful assembly — which he should not have agreed to attend in any case. Truly, Bingley could be so persistent and annoying at times that Darcy would say and do anything just to be left alone. That was why he had reluctantly accompanied his friend to the dance and then had refused to stand up with anyone he was not acquainted with. That had been mostly Bingley’s fault. However, how he had become intrigued, then enchanted, and finally attracted to Miss Elizabeth Bennet was still puzzling, but he had nobody to blame for it except himself — his infatuation had been fed by his weakness.

Yes, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was charming, witty, pretty in a most delightful way — especially her lively eyes! — candid, and clever. She was worthy of admiration, but to be caught in that sort of infatuation, to be incapable of taking his mind off her, was certainly proof of a weakness in his character. It was a flaw he had never suspected yet was now forced to admit. He had spent several days in her company at Netherfield; it had been a sweet torture having her so close, and his enjoyment of her presence had been ruined by his mortifying dreams, which he was too ashamed to remember. A gentleman should not entertain such idle fancies about another gentleman’s daughter. Therefore, when the eldest Miss Bennet’s health improved and the sisters returned to Longbourn, Darcy’s relief was stronger than any other feeling. But the distance proved to be no match for his infatuation, as he continued thinking about and dreaming of her.

As if those circumstances had not been tormenting enough, the disaster had worsened with the shocking presence of George Wickham — the abominable scoundrel Darcy had hoped he would never see again. Encountering him in the middle of Meryton, chatting animatedly with the Bennet sisters — especially Elizabeth — had made his blood boil and his resentment threaten to overcome his self-control. Luckily, he had turned and left immediately, but two days had passed since then, and his turmoil was just as great.

The Netherfield ball would be held in five days’ time, and afterwards, regardless of Bingley’s plans, Darcy would then leave Hertfordshire. The county was ruinous to his peace, and the farther he distanced himself from it, the better.

That morning, Bingley had ridden to Meryton to deliver invitations to Colonel Forster and the rest of the officers, but Darcy had declined to accompany him in order to avoid an encounter with Wickham. Instead, he had chosen to take a long ride across the lands around the market town, hoping the exercise would lessen his anxiety. After a while, he allowed his stallion to rest; he dismounted and sat on a stump, his back against an old oak, observing the scenery. It was by no means unpleasant; however, the late November weather was not ideal for activities out of doors, and sitting still exposed him to the cold rather quickly.

Darcy was about to jump back into the saddle when his attention was caught by voices and laughter. He looked behind him; there were two men and two women, walking and chatting. A moment was enough for him to recognise Wickham and his fellow officer Denny. With them were the youngest — and no doubt the silliest and most irritating — Bennet sisters, Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty. Darcy had only met them a few times, but that was more than enough to observe their poor manners and lack of education.

“Mr Wickham, I hope you and all the officers will come to the ball. Every lady in Meryton wants to dance with you!”

“We certainly do not want to disappoint the ladies of Meryton, especially you and your sisters, Miss Lydia,” Wickham replied, and the girls giggled.

“We all know Lizzy is your favourite, but you cannot dance more than one set with her,” the girl continued.

“I do consider Miss Elizabeth a dear friend, but I assure you it would give me equal pleasure to dance with you.”

Darcy felt chills of anger as he heard the scoundrel’s insinuating voice. His mere mention of Elizabeth’s name made him shudder.

“How fortunate we met!” Miss Catherine added. “We were about to return home after visiting Maria Lucas and did not expect to have such a delightful escort.”

“The pleasure is ours, Miss Kitty,” Wickham said, and Denny agreed.

Darcy’s intention was to remain hidden and hope the group would pass by without noticing him.

Then, a peculiar and disturbing feeling changed his mind as he observed the two girls holding the men’s arms and realised they were walking on a rather secluded path. The scene would have been acceptable if one of those men had not been George Wickham — someone who could hardly be called a gentleman and an officer.

The Bennet sisters must have been no more than sixteen and already smitten with the officers. They were carelessly flirting, ignorant of the danger they exposed themselves to. Neither of them was likely to possess a large enough dowry to tempt Wickham to marry them; but, as unfortunate as a marriage to such a man would be, George Wickham could easily ruin a young girl’s life and future in many other ways.

As little as Darcy cared about them or their insolent mother, he could not disregard a threat to any woman or do nothing about it. So, pulling his horse behind him, he stepped out onto the path.

“Good morning,” he said.

The group turned, and he saw Wickham’s disconcerted face.

“Mr Darcy!” Denny greeted him first. The two girls curtseyed with apparent displeasure.

Wickham mumbled in a low voice, “Good day.”

“Miss Catherine, Miss Lydia, are you alone?” Darcy enquired.

“No…I mean yes,” Miss Lydia answered. “We are returning home now, and Mr Wickham and Mr Denny offered to keep us company.”

“I see. Well, I happen to be going in the same direction. I hope you do not mind if I join you.”

Wickham’s face changed again, but Darcy remained calm.

“We would be delighted,” Denny said. “It is quite a coincidence we met.”

“Not really. This is the most direct route between Meryton and Netherfield. I enjoy riding this way, so the chances of such a meeting are not slight.”

“We often ride here too,” Denny continued. “Which is how we happened upon Miss Lydia and Miss Kitty.”

“I do not know why Mr Darcy wants to walk with us,” Miss Lydia interjected. “He does not like us — or anyone else, for that matter.”

Darcy frowned. “I assure you that is not true, Miss Lydia. My desire is to be sure you arrive home safely.”

“Why would we not be safe? We already have two gentlemen to escort us. And we walk to Meryton several times a week, so we know this path very well.”

“I am sure that is true, but I wish to speak to your father, nevertheless,” Darcy replied, steady to his purpose despite the obvious disapproval of his companions.

The group of four walked together, whispering to each other, while Darcy followed them. Wickham glanced back at him several times.

When they were close to Longbourn, the officers excused themselves and left. The two young sisters ran inside, while Darcy took a moment to contemplate his next move and decide whether he should enter or not. Very likely his presence had been noted, as he spotted a face at a window. While his heart raced, he pondered that perhaps he would be better to leave. However, he had little choice when the door opened and Mr Bennet appeared.

“Mr Darcy, I assume? I am Thomas Bennet. I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance yet.”

“Yes, sir. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy. Please forgive my unexpected visit. I would have waited for Bingley and called on you properly, if not for certain circumstances.”

“Do not worry, sir. I am pleased to meet you, regardless. Please come in. I was told you wished to speak to me.”

“Yes, please.”

“Then let us go to the library to avoid any distractions.”

Feeling rather uncomfortable, Darcy followed Mr Bennet, glancing about discreetly. The house was appropriate for the small estate of a country gentleman — not exactly fashionable but comfortable enough. He found himself wondering whether Elizabeth was at home and hoping to see her even for a moment.

Mr Bennet opened the library door for him, saying, “I imagine you are accustomed to larger and more impressive libraries, but at least we shall have peace and quiet here.”

The room was indeed small, with not much furniture except a sofa, two chairs, and a desk. The view from the window was of the garden behind the house, and the fire was burning steadily. Darcy immediately noticed a few remarkable volumes.

“In my opinion, the value of a library should be measured not by its physical dimensions but by what is inside it and how often it is used.”

“I could not agree more. Please sit down. May I offer you a drink?”

“Yes, thank you,” Darcy replied after a brief hesitation. In truth, he would rather not stay long, but since he had already intruded, saying a few words and leaving abruptly would be even worse.

His host handed him a glass, then resumed his seat with obvious curiosity.

“Mr Bennet, the reason for my visit might be deemed presumptuous. However, I feel it is my duty to express my concern.”

“That sounds quite serious, sir. Please speak plainly.”

“It is serious. During my ride this morning, I happened upon your youngest daughters, walking on a rather secluded path with two officers. I escorted them back to Longbourn to be sure they arrived safely.”

Mr Bennet frowned. “Did you see anything that induced your concern about my daughters’ safety? Did you notice anything improper?”

“No…but I am better acquainted than I would wish to be with one of the officers, and I know George Wickham is not to be trusted around young, innocent women.”

Darcy gulped from his glass while Mr Bennet looked at him with apparent stupefaction.

“That is quite a statement, sir.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“I do not wish to be impolite, Mr Darcy, but I heard some rumours that you and Mr Wickham are not the best of friends. I requested no details as I usually prefer to remain ignorant of other people’s business. However, I cannot but wonder whether perhaps your past affairs have influenced your harsh judgment.”

“I understand you find my opinion biased and have no reason to trust me. I simply consider it my duty to inform a father about the potential danger to his young daughters. What you choose to do next is entirely your decision.”

“Please know your concern is greatly appreciated, Mr Darcy, and I shall treat the matter with increased caution. In truth, my silly, naive fifteen-year-old daughter should not be alone with officers, even if they are the most honourable men. She should not even be out at balls, but I have been too indulgent to forbid it. And Kitty is not much better, even though she is two years older.”

Darcy did not reply. He had fulfilled his responsibility, and expressing his thoughts in regard to Lydia Bennet’s education would be rude and pointless.

“May I offer you another drink? Or perhaps you are in a hurry to return to more pleasant company?”

“I am in no hurry,” Darcy replied. Indeed, he was not. Bingley could not have returned to Netherfield yet, and he felt more comfortable in the library of a stranger than with the Bingley sisters and Mr Hurst.

“I assume Miss Elizabeth inherited her passion for reading from you,” he said, then immediately felt disquieted by the mere mention of her name. “Do any of your other daughters share the preference?”

“Perhaps my middle child, Mary. In truth, Mary does study a lot, but I am not sure whether she is passionate about reading itself. Lizzy, however, puts passion into everything she does. Perhaps too much and too keenly at times.”

Darcy smiled to himself at Mr Bennet’s accurate description.

“My sister, Georgiana, loves to read too. It was a pleasure I began to share with her when she was young, and I am proud to see her progress.”

“You seem very fond of your sister, Mr Darcy. Your voice and countenance changed when you mentioned her.”

“I certainly am. Fond and exceedingly proud of her many accomplishments, as well as of her kind and generous heart.”

“That is admirable. I love my daughters dearly, but in truth, if I put them all together, they have few accomplishments between them.”

Darcy was uncertain whether Mr Bennet was serious or merely jesting.

“I am not well acquainted with your daughters, but during the time I spent with Miss Elizabeth and Miss Bennet at Netherfield, I saw nothing wanting in either of them. Miss Elizabeth has a lively determination in expressing her opinion, which is rarely seen in ladies her age.”

Mr Bennet laughed. “Is that a compliment…or the opposite? Regardless, please do not repeat it in front of Mrs Bennet — she already despairs of how obstinate Lizzy is.”

“It was certainly a compliment, I assure you,” Darcy uttered.

Mr Bennet’s eyebrow arched. “That is pleasant to hear and slightly surprising, Mr Darcy. From what I have been told, when you met, your first impressions of each other were not favourable.”

Darcy almost choked on his drink and was desperately preparing an excuse when he heard a knock. The door opened, and a man appeared. Behind him stood Elizabeth and Jane Bennet. Darcy became uncomfortable the moment he laid eyes on Elizabeth. The man stepped forwards and bowed, and he remembered having seen him on the day he encountered Wickham in Meryton.

“Mr Darcy, I beg your forgiveness, but I have made the most extraordinary discovery. I have reason to believe that you are the nephew of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park.”

“Yes, Lady Catherine is my aunt. And you are…?”

“I am William Collins, sir! I have been the clergyman of Hunsford parish for the last ten months, by the grace of God and Lady Catherine.”

“I see. Congratulations, Mr Collins.”

“I am in a position to inform you that Lady Catherine was in perfect health five days ago.”

“I am glad to hear that.”

Darcy was amused, curious, and irritated by the man, but his attention was mostly on Elizabeth.

“Mr Collins is my cousin, Mr Darcy,” Mr Bennet interjected. “He will inherit Longbourn when I am gone,” his host continued in a jesting tone.

“That is precisely the purpose of my visit,” Mr Collins said. “To become better acquainted with the family and hopefully to find the companion of my future life amongst my fair cousins.” The man had a large grin on his face. He then looked at Elizabeth, which puzzled and vexed Darcy. Surely the ridiculous rector would not dare pursue her. Such an assumption would be beyond absurd to anyone with a little wit.

“Mr Darcy, making your acquaintance is certainly one of the happiest moments of my life,” Mr Collins declared.

“I sincerely hope that is not the case, Mr Collins. Making a mere acquaintance should not be anyone’s happiest moment. Mr Bennet, it is time for me to leave.”

“As you wish, Mr Darcy. I hope to see you again. Speaking to you was exceedingly pleasant.”

“Likewise, Mr Bennet,” Darcy answered. He bowed to Elizabeth and her elder sister, his eyes locking with Elizabeth’s for an instant, then he left the house.

He imagined Mr Collins would run immediately to his room to put the happy news of their meeting into a letter for Lady Catherine de Bourgh.