“Well, too good-looking for me, in any case,” Mary amended.
“You will see for yourself, Lizzy; he comes to play chess with me almost every day,” Mr. Bennet put in.
“I am glad you have a new friend, Papa,” Elizabeth said.
A knock at the front entrance stopped the conversation. Mr. Hill answered it; they heard him say, “Please do come in, Mr. Darcy.”
“Bring him in here, Hill!” Mr. Bennet called out. “Darcy, you are just in time to meet my Lizzy!”
Mr. Darcy understood at once that he was about to meet the mousy-haired bluestocking, and he must be careful to be attentive to her, as she was Bennet’s favourite daughter.
He walked into the parlour, and his eyes went at once to the lovely, laughing figure on the couch. This could not be – could it? No, surely not, for this bewitching creature had mahogany tresses that seemed to be a hundred different shades – coffee, chocolate, auburn, gold! Her dark, dark eyes were wide with laughter, her skin not the porcelain of her elder sister, but rosy with good health and love of the outdoors! Did she have freckles, the faintest of freckles, on her nose? She did, and he suddenly knew that he found a dusting of freckles completely enchanting!
He became aware that Mr. Bennet was speaking. “… new neighbour, Mr. Darcy. Darcy, this is my second daughter, Miss Elizabeth.”
Mr. Darcy found himself unable to speak as he bowed to her. His mind whirled. He had expected – but no, she was – and he –
“Mr. Darcy,” she said, as she rose and curtsied gracefully. “I understand you have been Papa’s chess companion in my absence.” Her voice was low-pitched and melodic. Not for her Miss Bingley’s screech, nor Miss Bennet’s whispery tones, no, her voice was pure music!
Mr. Darcy was able to gather his scattered thoughts long enough to say, “And you usually play with your father?” His voice caught on the last word. Heavens, what was wrong with him?
“Yes, indeed, and sometimes I even win our match,” she replied, laughing up at him. Her teeth were white and even, her lips rose pink. He was noticing her lips? Had he lost his mind?
“Sometimes? More often than not,” her father complained.
Mr. Darcy scarcely heard. He was too busy trying to rein in his whirling thoughts. I must be ill, he decided. A headache – I must ask Mrs. Nichols for some powder for it.
“Ah, Gardiner, there you are. This is Fitzwilliam Darcy, a temporary new neighbour.”
A well-dressed gentleman entered the room, and was introduced as Mrs. Bennet’s brother, Henry Gardiner. This must be the man with whom Miss Elizabeth had been residing in London and who would not invite Miss Lydia to stay. Indeed, who could blame him? Who would want rag-mannered Lydia when they could have a completely bewitching Elizabeth?
“Will you join us for tea, Mr. Darcy?”
He vaguely heard his name. Tea? Oh, it was Mrs. Bennet. “Gladly, madam,” he managed, though he felt very strongly that he should return to Netherfield and lay down for the rest of the afternoon. He was certain that he had a fever of some sort, as nothing else could explain his extraordinary reaction to this young lady. Elizabeth! Her name was music! How could anyone call this divine creature Lizzy?
“Here, Mr. Darcy. A splash of cream and no sugar, as I recall.”
Mr. Darcy managed to reach out his hand to take his cup without once taking his eyes from Elizabeth’s face. Then he heard, “Mr. Darcy, why do you stare at me? Have I jam on my face?”
Her question snapped him back to some semblance of reality. “Oh, I apologise, Miss Elizabeth. It is just that – you – well, you – I suppose you reminded me of someone, and I was rather taken aback.” This was the best excuse he could think of at the moment.
“Oh! I do hope it is someone you like,” she said, smiling at him.
“Very much so. I would certainly agree. Very much indeed,” he said, aware that he sounded like a complete idiot. Truly, the sooner he quit this young lady’s company and got holdof himself, the better. “Bennet, I am ready for chess at your leisure,” he managed to say.
“Excellent! And perhaps Lizzy will play the victor.”
No, no, no, no, Mr. Darcy thought, in a bit of a panic.
He was saved when Miss Elizabeth said, “Papa, I have just got home, and I have yet to give my sisters their gifts. Perhaps another time.”
Yes, Mr. Darcy thought, thankfully. Very much another time.
The younger girls set up a clamour for gifts, and it was with the deepest gratitude that Mr. Darcy followed Mr. Bennet to the study. There, Mr. Bennet eyed his guest over his spectacles, a smile lurking at his lips. “I take it she is not what you were expecting.”
Mr. Darcy immediately went on the defensive. “She? Who?”
“You cannot deceive me, Darcy; I saw your face when you first saw my Lizzy. You were shocked. What were you expecting?”
