Page 46 of Dear Friend

A gentleman with greying hair soon approached and introduced himself as Sir William Lucas. His evident pleasure in welcoming the Netherfield party quickly expanded into an offer to present them to several of the principal families of the neighbourhood, an office Bingley accepted with enthusiasm.

The Lucases came first. When Sir William presented his eldest daughter, Darcy's attention sharpened at the name Charlotte. So this was Charlotte Lucas, the sensible friend whose opinions Elizabeth valued even when she disagreed with them. She appeared near his own age, perhaps a little older, and Darcy found himself regarding her with an interest the lady could have had no reason to understand.

The Gouldings followed. Names and civilities passed with little impression upon him until Sir William turned towards a family gathered some distance away.

“Come, Mr. Bingley. You must know the Bennets. Longbourn is one of your nearest neighbours.”

Darcy's attention fixed upon them at once.

The Bennets. Longbourn.

There could be no mistake.

Five young women stood with their mother, and as Sir William conducted the party towards them, Darcy found himself studying the sisters despite every effort not to appear to do so. Elizabeth was the second daughter, but that knowledge assisted him very little. The two eldest appeared near enough in age that either might answer to what little he knew.

One was extraordinarily beautiful. Darcy acknowledged it immediately, yet his attention did not remain with her.

It went instead to the other woman beside her.

She wore blue, and there was nothing in her appearance which ought to have distinguished her to him before he knew her name. Yet her eyes arrested his attention. They were dark, lively, and observant, moving over the approaching party with an intelligence that suggested she was less concerned with being noticed than with forming her own judgement of those before her.

Something in Darcy tightened.

Surely...

He was scarcely conscious of continuing across the room until Sir William began the introductions. Mrs. Bennet first, then the daughters in order.

“Miss Jane Bennet.”

The beautiful one.

Darcy's gaze shifted immediately to her sister.

“And Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

Elizabeth.

For weeks the name had existed only at the bottom of a page and in his mind.

Now she stood before him.

Darcy forgot to bow.

Sir William continued through the remaining daughters, presenting Mary, Catherine, whom the family called Kitty, and Lydia Bennet before mentioning that Mr. Thomas Bennet had chosen not to attend the evening's assembly. Darcy registered the names, attaching them almost automatically to what he already knew of each sister, but his attention remained fixed upon the second.

Elizabeth Bennet was not so strikingly beautiful as her elder sister, but she was very handsome. More than handsome, Darcy found, for there was an animation in her countenance which no letter could have prepared him for. Her eyes in particular held him. They were fine, intelligent eyes, and at present they regarded him with increasing curiosity, as though she were attempting to discover why a gentleman newly introduced to her had forgotten every ordinary rule of civility in favour of staring.

Darcy knew he ought to look away.

He did not.

For months he had supplied a face to the voice upon those pages without ever being able to settle upon one. None of his imaginings had resembled the woman before him. There was more liveliness in her expression than he had expected, more warmth about her mouth, and something quietly challenging in the return of his gaze which brought irresistibly to mind every argument she had committed to paper.

This was Elizabeth.

The realization produced a strange quickening in his chest.

It took Bingley’s asking for the eldest Miss Bennet’s hand for the first set to finally break Darcy’s gaze. Jane Bennet accepted with a becoming blush, and thankfully Sir William soon proposed conducting them towards the next family.