The fields gradually gave way to more traveled roads. Carriages rattled past, London-bound; farmers drove wagons loaded with produce; riders in dusty coats urged tired horses onward. As the sun sank lower, the sky blushed with streaks of rose and gold—not unlike the flush that had risen in Miss Bennet’s cheeks when she smiled.
By the time he neared the outskirts of the city, dusk had begun its slow descent. London’s streets were bustling as he rode into the city. The familiar cacophony of the city enveloped him: shouts from vendors closing their stalls, clattering wheels, the crack of a whip. The scents of London—roasting chestnuts, horse sweat, coal smoke—mingled in the air.
Dusk was imminent, but it was still light enough to conduct business and navigate a horse safely to Darcy House. Once in the mews behind his home, he handed the reins off to a groomsman. Wearily, he entered the house and climbed the stairs to his chambers. His valet, Brisby, helped him change into fresh attire. Darcy ordered a tray for supper. The house was empty but for him, and it would be ridiculous to ask the servants to set a table for a single diner.
He sat heavily in his armchair as Brisby withdrew, leaving him alone with the muted crackle of the fire and the faint clink of porcelain as his supper tray was laid behind him. London felt colder, emptier than it had that morning.
What a strange day,he thought.What an unexpectedly strange, distracting, maddening, enthralling day.
And he knew—he knew with absolute certainty—that sleep would not come easily.
Chapter Four
“Did you hear, Lizzy?” Lydia bounced on the balls of her feet, her curls bobbing wildly. “Maria Lucas says Mr. Bingley is to attend the assembly!” Kitty came up behind her sister, nodding fervently. The two younger girls were so breathless with excitement that they could hardly stand still, their energy filling the sitting room like a sudden gust of warm wind. Their cheeks were flushed, their eyes bright, and Elizabeth suspected they had run all the way from Lucas Lodge with the news.
“I believe Sir William had intended to extend the invitation.” Elizabeth barely glanced up from her handkerchief, carefully pulling the needle in and out. Though she remained outwardly calm, her composure faltered for a moment as Mr. Darcy’s image rose, unbidden, in her mind. If Mr. Bingley was to attend the assembly, then perhaps Mr. Darcy would also be present.He did say he was coming in October, she reasoned. Still, her stitches faltered for a brief instant, betraying her internal agitation. She forced herself to resume her careful work, hoping Lydia would not notice.
“Lizzy, you are not listening!” Lydia stamped her slippered foot in irritation. “Maria says he is bringing twelve ladies and seven gentlemen!”
“It was five gentlemen and seven ladies,” insisted Kitty. The sisters turned toward each other in a miniature battle of truth that lasted only as long as it took Elizabeth to open her mouth.
“That is too many ladies,” Elizabeth quipped. Both her sisters gaped and then giggled. It pleased her to see them laugh; their joy had a way of brightening the room, even if they tended to be ridiculous. And yet, even as she smiled, a nervous warmth stirred low in her stomach at the thought of meeting Mr. Darcy again.
“Lizzy, Mama says I may go for part of the evening. Lydia, too.” Kitty beamed. Her eyes sparkled with delighted anticipation, and Lydia spun in place as though already dancing the first set.
The youngest Bennet sisters were not fully ‘out’ in society. Lydia was fifteen, and Kitty seventeen, but as none of their elder sisters had been inclined to marry, they were still limited as to their enjoyment of local events. The Bennet sisters had had a governess, an elderly spinster named Gertrude Lane. When Miss Lane had retired with her sister four years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had taken over the education of their girls. Lydia still showed far more exuberance and emotion than was strictly polite, and Kitty followed her sister’s lead. Elizabeth was eternally grateful neither had ‘launched into society’ fully. If they behaved as they did now in a London ballroom, Elizabeth had no doubt their mother would succumb to her nerves entirely.
The news that the girls would be allowed to attend part of the evening testified to Mrs. Bennet’s excitement about their prospective neighbor. She and Mr. Bennet generally took turns staying home with the younger girls. Whichever parent remained would spend their evening with Kitty and Lydia. This ensured that no resentment took root. Elizabeth appreciated thepracticality behind the arrangement—a beautiful instance where her parents’ minds met.
“Will you help us add trim to our gowns?” Lydia pleaded.
Elizabeth did not hesitate. “Very well, but the assembly is but a few days hence. We must make haste.” She set aside her embroidery and took up a basket filled with loose ribbons, bits of lace, and other trimmings. “I have a few things in my chambers as well.”
The girls squealed and hurried out of the room ahead of their sister. Their laughter echoed up the staircase as they ran, leaving Elizabeth alone for a brief moment of stillness.
Elizabeth allowed herself a small sigh—half amusement, half nerves—as she rose to follow them. The very air of the house seemed brighter with anticipation; even the worn banister gleamed warmly in the afternoon sun as she ascended the stairs. Her thoughts drifted yet again, unbidden, to a gentleman on a great black horse.
Will he truly come? Will he enter the same rooms, stand upon the same dance floor? And will he remember me?
Her cheeks warmed.Foolishness.Still, she could not banish the memory of the lingering glance he had cast over his shoulder as he rode away.
In her bedchamber, Lydia and Kitty waited eagerly, gowns spread across the coverlet. Each had been allowed to select a simple ball gown earlier that year. Elizabeth knelt beside them, opening her sewing basket and selecting ribbons to match their bodices. Lydia wanted bold colors—pink and gold that sparkled when the candlelight caught them. Kitty preferred pale blues and silver. Elizabeth guided their choices gently, ensuring that the final results would be pretty without descending into gaudiness.
As she sewed small rosettes along the neckline of Lydia’s gown, her thoughts wandered. Mr. Darcy’s voice—warm, gentle, and unexpectedly candid—rose up in her memory.
“It would be a boon to have another who understands…”
She swallowed, her needle pausing for half a heartbeat.
“Lizzy?” Kitty nudged her. “You pricked your finger.”
“Oh. Did I?” Elizabeth dabbed the tiny spot of blood with her handkerchief, chiding herself silently. She must not let her mind drift so easily.
Soon enough, the younger girls’ gowns were trimmed to their satisfaction, and Lydia twirled before the mirror with unabashed pride.
“You look very fine,” Elizabeth assured her—though her tone was colored by affectionate amusement.
When her sisters finally left her in peace, Elizabeth opened her wardrobe and carefully lifted her own gown from where she had hidden it near the back.
