Chapter 1

One

September 19, 1812

Mrs Bennet looked about her drawing room, feeling more satisfaction than she had in many a month. It had little to do with the decoration—although it was as fine as it could possibly be, given her husband's income—or the refreshing late summer breeze entering through the open windows. The smile on her face was because of the gentleman sitting beside her eldest daughter. Mr Bingley, about whom she had harboured so many hopes the previous year, had returned to the neighbourhood. He was as handsome and jovial as she recalled. More to the point, his only interest at present was looking at and speaking to Jane.

A warm but cautious contentment settled in Mrs Bennet's belly. Her dearest dream might still come true. Her daughter might be mistress of Netherfield and have a rich husband! Any mother would be proud of such an accomplishment, and it would be a relief to know that she need not worry about the future once Mr Bennet died and the disagreeable Mr Collins inherited Longbourn. Besides, Jane had been despondent since Mr Bingley had gone away. Her dear girl did not think Mrs Bennet had realised, but she had, and what kind of mother would she be if she did not long to see Jane happy?

Mrs Bennet's eyes took in the room's other occupants. Kitty looked bored, and Mary frowned and quietly sewed. Neither contributed to the conversation, which was just as well. It meant Mr Bingley's attention could remain on Jane. Mrs Bennet fought against a scowl when her gaze fell on Mr Darcy. In addition to insulting Elizabeth, he had been rude to everyone when he was last in the neighbourhood. Why had he accompanied Mr Bingley? Apparently, it was to sit in her drawing room, being silent and sullen. Mrs Bennet regarded her second eldest daughter. Elizabeth had been different since her return from travelling with the Gardiners and the… difficulties of the summer. Usually lively and quick with a joke, she had been quiet and serious. When Lydia and Mr Wickham had visited, Elizabeth had seemed angry more often than not, despite her attempts to hide it. Well, it was nothing Mrs Bennet should waste her time contemplating. After all, when had she ever understood Elizabeth, and was it not more important to ensure Mr Bingley and Jane finally married?

"Mr Bingley, you are quite in our debt, if you recall. Last autumn, you promised to take a family dinner with us, but then you left. I insist on setting a date at once. Will Monday do?" Mrs Bennet said.

With a grin on his face, Mr Bingley tore his eyes away from Jane. "That is very kind of you, and I am happy to accept. Monday would suit me very well." He turned to gaze at Jane again.

Because she knew it was expected, Mrs Bennet turned to her other guest, only to discover he was staring at someone instead of at his hands, as he had been. She thought it might be Elizabeth and suspected the odious man was reminding himself that he did not find her handsome. Her Elizabeth was lovely, and if he could not see it, he was very stupid indeed!

"You are welcome too, Mr Darcy," she said, managing to sound polite but wishing she could tell him to leave her home.

"Thank you, madam."

She struggled not to roll her eyes, knowing his politeness was feigned. To keep vexation at bay, she watched Jane and Mr Bingley. They were a handsome couple. What a great match it would be!

I shall do what I must to see them at the altar before Christmas. It begins with dinner. What shall we have? I hope we can get decent fish.

Mrs Bennet successfully forgot about Mr Darcy's presence until she was called upon to say goodbye. Perhaps he would soon go away. After all, he had never shown a liking for the neighbourhood, and no one there wanted to see him.

Elizabeth slipped out of the house shortly after dawn the following morning. She intended to return before any of her family awoke, and as long as the housekeeper did not see her—she would tell Mrs Bennet—she might evade questions about why she rose and left so early. She could not admit that she had hardly slept, plagued by her maddening thoughts. Her mother and sisters would want to know what had disordered her peacefulness, and to admit it was Mr Darcy was impossible. She hoped an invigorating walk would ease her agitation.

Not even Jane knew what had happened in Derbyshire. When Elizabeth and the Gardiners had returned to Longbourn the previous month, everyone had been consumed with Lydia's situation—understandably so—and there had been no interest in the tour. Elizabeth was exceedingly glad of it. Whatever connexion she and Mr Darcy had been forming had ended the instant Lydia had fled Brighton with Wickham. Just as Elizabeth had admitted to herself how much she admired Mr Darcy, all hope of their future together was ruined, leaving her heartbroken and full of regret for her failure to understand him sooner.

And I am angry, very, very angry at Lydia for her stupidity and recklessness and at Wickham for taking advantage of a young, impetuous girl.

Despite being thankful the couple had married, Elizabeth hated thinking of them because their union had come at the expense of the future she and Mr Darcy might have had.

Seeing him enter the drawing room yesterday was a shock. One slight glimpse of his tall, handsome form was all it had taken for Elizabeth to be suffused with love for him. How she had longed to fly into his arms and cling to him!

But he had not been there to see her. That much had been evident within the first few minutes. Mr Darcy had greeted the Bennet ladies politely and then taken a seat removed from them. He had not spoken a word other than to thank her mother for inviting him to dinner. Elizabeth had been embarrassed at her initial exultation, and her bitter disappointment at his indifference had robbed her of her tongue. He had only come to keep Mr Bingley company and perhaps to judge for himself whether Jane truly cared for his friend. If his impulse had been also to demonstrate that he had not turned his back on the Bennets despite knowing about Lydia's rash actions, then it was generous of him.

Elizabeth paused by a walnut tree and leant against the rough bark. A deep sigh crossed her lips, and she allowed sorrow to take over for a moment. It left her body weak, and if the ground was not damp, she would have sunk into a seated position against the tree.

"It is an impossible situation. I accepted that long ago, and seeing Mr Darcy now should not matter so much, but, oh, how I pray he goes away soon. I shall not always be able to keep my feelings to myself," she softly whispered, as though saying the words aloud would make her feel less lonely.

Several minutes later, she pushed herself away from the tree and began to walk home. She would devote herself to Jane and permit her sister's joy at Mr Bingley's return to lift her spirits and forget her feelings for Mr Darcy.