“Your evident fascination with young Master Ambrose suggests a natural aptitude for maternal duties. Perhaps we should begin advertising your domestic accomplishments more widely.”
“I am hardly likely to require such skills in the immediate future,” Elizabeth replied with some asperity. “Given my complete lack of suitors and equally complete lack of interest in acquiring them.”
Mr Bennet chuckled. “Do not be so hasty in your dismissals, Lizzy. Life has a way of confounding our most confident predictions.”
Elizabeth considered this observation as Longbourn came into view. The afternoon had indeed confounded her expectations, though not in the manner her father suggested.She had anticipated tedium and social obligation, yet returned home with unmistakable pleasure in new acquaintances.
“Charlotte Lucas married Mr Collins only two months past,” she said thoughtfully, recalling her friend’s practical decision to accept their pompous cousin’s proposal. “If she could resign herself to such a fate, perhaps there is hope for us all.”
“Or perhaps,” Mr Bennet suggested with the wisdom of long experience, “Charlotte’s example merely proves that matrimony requires courage rather than affection.”
Elizabeth laughed, though the observation carried more truth than comfort. As they approached Longbourn’s familiar entrance, she reflected that courage might indeed prove necessary for any woman bold enough to chart her own course through society’s expectations.
The memory of Ambrose’s infectious laughter and Georgiana’s shy friendship provided unexpected comfort. If all children possessed such natural charm and intelligence, she mused, perhaps the world might indeed prove a better place than her cynical nature typically allowed.
The thought lingered as they entered Longbourn’s welcoming chaos, where Mrs Bennet awaited with barely contained impatience to dissect every detail of their momentous expedition.
Chapter Two
Five days later
“Lizzy, you must hold still or I shall never manage these ribbons properly!” Lydia declared with all the authority her seventeen years could muster, wielding hairpins like weapons of conquest.
Elizabeth submitted to her youngest sister’s ministrations with what patience she could summon, though the evening ahead promised little beyond the usual assembly diversions. Meryton’s monthly balls followed a predictable pattern—the same faces, the same conversations, the same careful navigation of Mrs Bennet’s matrimonial ambitions.
“There!” Lydia stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You look almost as fine as me, though naturally I shall attract far more attention in my new blue silk.”
“Naturally,” Elizabeth agreed with fond exasperation, turning to examine her reflection. The simple elegance of her green muslin would have to suffice, though she harboured no illusions about competing with Lydia’s dramatic flair or Jane’s gentle beauty.
The carriage ride to Meryton’s assembly hall buzzed with anticipation. Mrs Bennet spoke of the evening’s prospects with her customary enthusiasm, while Jane maintained her serene composure despite the knowing glances directed her way. The possibility of encountering Mr Bingley had transformed their mother into a strategist worthy of military command.
“Remember, my dears,” Mrs Bennet instructed as they approached the hall, “first impressions matter tremendously. Jane, you must engage Mr Bingley in conversation at the earliest opportunity. Elizabeth, perhaps you might charm one of his companions. Mary, do try to smile more—you appear positively funereal when serious.”
Elizabeth suppressed a laugh at Mary’s wounded expression. Their mother’s advice, however well-intentioned, possessed all the subtlety of cannon fire. Still, the sight of Meryton’s assembly hall, blazing with candlelight and alive with music, stirred her spirits despite her reservations.
The Bennet family’s entrance created the usual flutter of acknowledgment among the assembled company. Elizabeth scanned the room with practiced efficiency, noting familiar faces and identifying newcomers with the skill of a seasoned campaign veteran. Near the refreshment table, she spotted her dear friend Marcella Fairfax, resplendent in primrose yellow and clearly hoping to make an impression.
“Elizabeth!” Marcella hurried forward with barely contained excitement. “Is it not wonderful? Mr Bingley and his entire party have honoured us with their presence. I confess myself quite overwhelmed by such distinguished company.”
Elizabeth followed her friend’s eager gaze towards the far end of the hall, where a cluster of elegantly dressed figures commanded considerable attention. Mr Bingley stood at the centre, his open countenance and ready smile making him immediately recognizable. Beside him, a tall gentleman in severe black evening clothes surveyed the assembly with an expression that suggested he had detected an unpleasant odour.
“That must be the infamous Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth murmured, studying the newcomer with interest. His bearingspoke of wealth and consequence, though his austere demeanour created a marked contrast to Mr Bingley’s welcoming spirit.
“Indeed! And such a handsome figure he cuts,” Marcella sighed with romantic fervour. “Ten thousand a year, they say, and master of a grand estate in Derbyshire. Surely he must be seeking a wife among us country ladies?”
Before Elizabeth could respond to this hopeful speculation, Mr Bingley approached with his characteristic enthusiasm, Georgiana at his side. The sight of her new friend brightened Elizabeth’s evening considerably, though she noted how Georgiana remained close to her host as if drawing courage from his presence.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Fairfax,” Mr Bingley bowed with pleasure. “How delightful to encounter neighbours in such festive circumstances. May I present Miss Darcy? I believe you and Miss Bennet are already acquainted.”
The introductions proceeded smoothly, though Elizabeth noticed Marcella’s barely contained excitement when Mr Bingley mentioned his friend’s availability for dancing. Her poor friend possessed a romantic disposition that often overwhelmed her natural good sense, and Elizabeth could practically see her constructing fairy-tale scenarios involving herself and the mysterious Mr Darcy.
“Mr Darcy appears rather formidable,” Elizabeth commented quietly to Georgiana as they watched the gentleman in question maintaining his solitary vigil near the wall.
“Fitzwilliam can seem intimidating upon first acquaintance,” Georgiana admitted with a fond smile. “He guards his privacy carefully, though he possesses the kindest heart once one knows him properly.”
Elizabeth was about to pursue this intriguing observation when Mr Bingley’s voice carried clearly across their small circle. “Darcy, you must allow me to introduce Miss Fairfax. She is particularly eager to make your acquaintance.”
The response that followed made Elizabeth’s blood run cold with indignation.
