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“I heard that gentleman who let Hinterfield Park will be there,” Miss Laura said, interrupting Kitty’s thoughts. “A Mr. Bingley, I believe. They say he has four thousand a year, and that he is bringing six gentlemen and ten ladies up from London.”

“Ridiculous,” Miss Mabel muttered.

“It is Netherfield Park,” Kitty corrected.

“I heard he will bring two gentlemen and eight ladies.” Cat turned to Kitty. “What have you heard?”

“Little as of yet. Likely, my mother and sisters are learning all as we speak.” They would be cheerfully at Longbourn receiving calls and having tea, while Kitty was stuck in this, admittedly grand, carriage with these Archers and Mr. Collins.

They continued to ride about the countryside, only Miss Mabel seeming to care about the view, while Cat flirted with Mr. Collins and the others speculated on who might come up from London for the assembly, until they entered the village. There, Mrs. Archer called a halt so her daughters might search for ribbons.

As Kitty had not brought any money, she could not purchase any. Worse, Cat stayed by her side, so Kitty could not sneak away to chat with any of the people from whom she usually sought information in Meryton. She did notice, however, that while the Archers left with nearly half the ribbons in the shop, no money exchanged hands. Mrs. Archer imperiously told the shopkeeper to add the cost to her bill.

Chapter Ten

Elizabeth couldn’t deny a certain thrill of anticipation as she stood in the assembly hall along with half of Meryton, trying not to stare at the entrance. Everyone believed Mr. Bingley and his guests from London would attend and no one wanted to miss their first glimpse of the gentleman and his party. Her mother was no exception, nodding along to the drone of Mr. Collins’ voice as she kept her gaze fixed on the doorway to the entrance hall.

Elizabeth studied their cousin for a moment, attempting to see him as a new acquaintance might. Would Mr. Collins’ austere coat and slicked hair paint them all in a poor light upon introduction to Mr. Bingley? Likely so. Even if Mr. Bingley turned out not to be the gentleman who haunted Elizabeth’s thoughts, she did not care for the impression their cousin would make on a new acquaintance.

At least the same couldn’t be said for Kitty and Lydia. Lydia, in particular, looked well. Having feared her youngest two sisters would react to the challenge of the Archers by festooning themselves in even more ribbons and lace, Elizabeth couldn’t be more pleased to be proven wrong. Lydia spent days making over the gown she now wore and the clean lines and slightly modest cut emphasized her stature. Coupled with a hairstyle obviously copied from Miss Archer, Lydia appeared older than her fifteen years and far more composed and intelligent than Elizabeth knew her to be. Kitty, likewise, had made some sort of effort, though to less success as the Archers’ style didn’t suit her shorter stature, but she looked well enough not to be remarked upon, a pleasant change.

Neither Jane nor Mary had put any unusual thought or time into their appearances. Jane because doing so had not occurred to her. She was loveliness itself and hadn’t known a day of envy or inadequacy in her life. Mary, in contrast, mulishly refused to alter her appearance in response to the Archers’ poise and beauty, deeming too much of either an unacceptable exercise in hubris. As usual, she appeared somewhat uncomfortable and rather as if she did not wish to be present.

Elizabeth, too, had gone to no additional pains. She wished that was because she had Jane’s easy surety, but could admit in her heart that her appearance stemmed more from something akin to Mary’s stubbornness. Elizabeth wouldn’t give the Archers the satisfaction of acknowledging that they made her feel short and lacking in curves. Any change on her part coupled with any smugness on theirs would irritate her too much to be endured. She was far too proud to reveal her vanity, even if her mysterious gentleman might be in attendance. He, after all, had already seen her, and likely already formed an opinion.

A shift in the crowd, the murmur of voices, drew her attention from her relations and back to the entrance hall. A gentleman stepped through, upright and smiling. He radiated warmth and good heartedness, but something akin to despair spiraled through Elizabeth. He was not the man from the carriage

Beside Elizabeth, her sister’s breath caught. A glance showed Jane’s gaze fixed on the newcomer.

A name rustled through the crowd, ‘Mr. Bingley.’

The two men were not one and the same after all. Elizabeth would never see that arresting gentleman again. Pain lodged in her chest, followed hard by anger. She did not even know him. Had but glimpsed him. How could his absence hurt so greatly?

A couple followed Mr. Bingley in, arm in arm, the gentleman of average build and quick-eyed, the lady sour-faced. Immediately after entered a woman tall enough to rival the Archers and craning her elegant neck to look back at…

The man from the carriage. He trailed the group like a thundercloud skittering across a sunny sky, his shoulders stiff and his collar so starched, Elizabeth wondered that he could execute the nod he offered the tall woman as she spoke. Everything about him radiated hauteur and disapproval.

And yet her heart unfurled in joy.

Sir William Lucas, already known to be acquainted with Mr. Bingley, strode forward with Lady Lucas and their eldest, Elizabeth’s friend Charlotte, to meet Mr. Bingley and his party as they started into the room. More murmurs reached Elizabeth where she waited with her mother, sisters, and Mr. Collins, to the tune of, ‘Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. Miss Bingley, a sister, and Mr. Darcy…very wealthy.’

Mr. Darcy. Her carriage-man had a name. Darcy.

As if summoned by her regard, his gaze swept the room. Collided with hers. Dark, turbulent eyes fixed on her. Her mouth suddenly devoid of moisture, Elizabeth forced her feet to remain still. She could not simply cross the room to meet him. She would not recover from such brashness.

Sir William turned, gesturing their way. Anticipation shot through Elizabeth, making her head swim.

Mama drew her shoulders back. “Sir William will bring them here for introductions,” Mrs. Bennet muttered, almost too low for Elizabeth to make out. “How good of him, as your father manages to have disappeared somewhere, as is typical. What will become of you girls with a father who—”

A fresh commotion called all eyes back to the entrance.

Mrs. Archer and four of her daughters stood at the front of the hall. All five surveyed the room from the fortification of their modish gowns, far too elegant for a country assembly. All stood tall and, though not in motion, radiated gracefulness. Miss Archer leaned to murmur something to her mother.

The tall young woman who accompanied Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley, Elizabeth assumed, turned to take them in. She touched Mrs. Hurst’s arm, then Mr. Darcy’s, yanking his attention from Elizabeth. Looping her arm through his, Miss Bingley turned Mr. Darcy away. In moments, only Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley still spoke with Sir William and Lady Lucas, though Mr. Bingley’s gaze moved past his conversational partners, to Jane. The two women and Mr. Darcy made a wall of backs behind them.

Taking Mr. Darcy with her, Miss Bingley retraced the few steps they’d come into the room. The pinch-faced Mrs. Hurst leaned to tug on Mr. Bingley’s arm. He turned…

…and sighted the Archers. Mr. Bingley bowed absently to the Lucases and followed his sisters and Mr. Darcy back to the front of the hall, appearing as dazed as if actual sirens lured him. Left behind, Mr. Hurst looked about in confusion before bowing as well.