Prologue

Wednesday, 27 th November 1811, Longbourn

W ith a stealthy step, Elizabeth left the house, making her way towards the shrubbery. Avoiding the company of others was unusual for her, but she had suddenly found it impossible to endure the general happiness that had enveloped Longbourn since their return from the Netherfield ball the previous night.

Even their usually calm housekeeper was bustling up and down the stairs, ensuring that the gown Mrs Bennet had insisted Jane wear that morning looked perfect. It seemed that everyone, including the servants, was eagerly anticipating a joyful event that day, while Mr Bingley’s name had been mentioned no fewer than a hundred times since they had awoken.

Elizabeth dearly loved her sister; their close bond was recognised by all who knew them. However, on this particular morning, she could not bring herself to share in Jane’s joy, and her unease was driven by genuine concern.

The previous night at the ball, she had observed Mr Bingley’s sisters more closely than she had intended or desired. When her family had entered the ballroom, she had been shocked by the malevolent glances Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley had directed at Jane. And when Mr Bingley, abandoning his duties as host, had turned his attention solely on her, their glances had become even more haughty and malicious. They had exchanged vehement words with each other before disappearing from view, only to reappear later, conversing with Mr Darcy. The three of them had then cast long, meaningful looks towards Jane and Mr Bingley.

Ever since, Elizabeth had tried to push aside the unpleasant feeling that weighed on her heart, and strangely, the joyfulness of their house had done nothing to ease her discomfort. Mr Bingley’s family were visibly displeased with his inclination towards Jane, and that was bad news.

Lost in these sombre thoughts, she failed to notice the approach of a gentleman until it was too late to avoid an encounter with him. Of course, it was none other than Mr Darcy.

They exchanged greetings, both showing some surprise. However, unlike Mr Darcy’s sudden smile betraying a certain joy at seeing her, Elizabeth only wished to escape from him as quickly as possible.

“May I accompany you, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly pleasant, his countenance displaying a warmth she had not anticipated.

Elizabeth, having anticipated a confrontation, was astonished by his politeness.

“Certainly, it is a public road,” she replied, attempting to conceal her worry and displeasure, but she realised that in a leisurely conversation with Mr Darcy, she might gain insights into Mr Bingley’s true feelings for her sister.

“May I hear your thoughts on last night’s ball, Miss Elizabeth? Did you enjoy it?” he asked. To Elizabeth, his intention was clear—to praise the superiority of the Netherfield ball over all other gatherings he had attended in the vicinity.

“I did enjoy the ball. I usually enjoy any opportunity to see my friends,” Elizabeth replied. “In my opinion, the setting for a ball is less important than the people in attendance,” she continued, letting him see that she fully grasped his words and had no intention of admitting that a ball at Netherfield surpassed one in Meryton’s assembly rooms. To her surprise, the gentleman nodded in apparent agreement.

There was a blend of sweetness and playfulness in her manner—a combination that Darcy found rather appealing. He had never been so captivated by any woman before. He could not help but contemplate that were it not for the inferiority of her family and friends, he might be in some danger of liking the lady in front of him too much.

“Miss Bingley mentioned that you anticipate the arrival of your sister at Netherfield. It is a pity she could not be present for the splendid Netherfield ball ,” she remarked, placing particular emphasis on the final words, which brought a smile to Mr Darcy’s lips; he appreciated her skilful use of sarcasm in conversation.

“Well, no, Miss Elizabeth. I believe Miss Bingley misunderstood my sister’s plans. She will be travelling from Pemberley to London in a few days, but she has no intention of joining us.”

“Oh, and why is that, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth wanted to know, her playful tone intending to convey more than the words themselves. But then, she decided not to leave her thoughts unspoken. “Miss Bingley told us that your sister possesses exceptional accomplishments for her age, perhaps making her uncomfortable in the environs of Netherfield…or Meryton,” she added with a teasing smile that, once again, did not escape Mr Darcy’s notice.

“I assure you, my sister is the epitome of good breeding, and she would undoubtedly enjoy the society she would find in the neighbourhood,” he responded, more to please Elizabeth than to express his true feelings—a rare departure from his usual behaviour. Looking at the young lady walking beside him, he could not help but wonder what might have happened had they met in a different setting, amidst a society more to his liking.

“I am fully inclined to believe you, Mr Darcy. And I still hope Miss Darcy may change her plans and grace Hertfordshire with her presence.”

“I doubt that will happen in the near future, Miss Elizabeth. Most likely, I shall join her and our aunt Mrs Barstow in London,” he stated, and Elizabeth detected an alteration in his tone. He seemed suddenly troubled or melancholic, and she could not understand the source of such a change in his mood.

“Do you plan to leave, then?” she asked at last.

“I shall not spend the winter here—that much is certain,” he replied, speaking only about himself, much to Elizabeth’s disappointment. She had hoped to learn more about the Bingleys.

“And as for Mr Bingley and his family, do they intend to stay at Netherfield for the winter?” she asked, striving for a light tone to conceal her keen interest.

“I am quite unaware of their intentions,” Mr Darcy responded, again using a tone quite distinct from the almost amicable conversation they had enjoyed earlier. “However, when we depart, your neighbourhood will not lack for entertainment with all the officers around.”

For the first time that morning, the gentleman she had met at the Meryton assembly appeared in all his glory—sarcastic, conceited, and contemptuous.

At that moment, Elizabeth’s dormant resentment towards him returned—the disparaging words he had spoken when they first met, his haughty demeanour in the presence of her family and friends, and his mistreatment of Mr Wickham—all of it flooded her memory in an instant, and she could no longer bear his company. Regardless of his newfound ability to engage in conversation or his peculiar interest in her, nothing could erase the image of the arrogant gentleman who had considered her insufficiently attractive to tempt him and had clearly held her family and friends in disdain.

Finding nothing more to gain from their conversation, she offered a polite yet cold excuse, claiming to have spotted Jane in the distance, and quickly hurried away from him.

He stood still in the middle of the road for a long moment, feeling unusually sad, for he knew with certainty that this would be the last time he saw her.

???

Elizabeth met Jane near their home and agreed to take the road to Meryton towards Mrs Phillips’s house.

“What were you doing with that gentleman?” Jane asked, though she did not wait for Elizabeth’s response, all her attention on the path ahead. “Noon has come and gone, and he has not made an appearance,” she continued. It was clear that she was not worried but eager, still confident that Mr Bingley would come.

“Did you see him?” she eventually asked Elizabeth.

“Whom?”

“Mr Darcy. When you left him, he remained standing in the middle of the road, looking at you as if he wanted a final glimpse.” Jane could not help but smile, for she knew Mr Darcy, and it was inconceivable that he harboured any affection for Elizabeth or any other member of their family. “I wonder what brought him to this particular road.”

Again, she seemed entirely disinterested in an answer, giving Elizabeth a moment to ponder why indeed Mr Darcy had found himself on the path to Longbourn. Until then, she had not considered the matter.

At that precise moment, a dreadful realisation overwhelmed her. Every aspect of Mr Darcy’s conduct, countenance, and demeanour conveyed a single message—they were preparing to depart, and his appearance on the road to Longbourn spoke louder than words. He had anticipated an encounter with her; that was the reason he had been there. However, she could not care less about his motives when confronted with the thought that it was possible that everybody at Netherfield was at that moment preparing to leave.

A faint hope lingered that perhaps he alone intended to depart. Still, one of his final remarks remained etched in her memory: When we depart, your neighbourhood will not lack for entertainment with all the officers around. Disregarding the sarcasm and haughtiness in his words, she realised they were an announcement of their departure. And her heart ached when she realised that Mr Bingley might be among those leaving.

She looked at Jane, who was diligently scanning the road to Meryton and Netherfield, yet no one appeared.

Perhaps no one ever will , Elizabeth thought, but she decided to keep that idea to herself. It was only an assumption, and she forced herself to hold on to hope.

By the following day, all of Elizabeth’s hopes lay in ruins. Upon returning from Meryton, they discovered Miss Bingley’s letter to Jane, which conveyed that she, Mr and Mrs Hurst, and Mr Darcy had followed Mr Bingley to London and intended to stay for at least six months. None would return that winter.