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Chapter One
“Bingley!” Darcy called out, quickening his step to catch up to his friend. “Bingley!”
Bingley slowed as he glanced over his shoulder. “Darcy?”
Darcy chuckled. “I have been calling your name for minutes!”
Bingley shook his hand when Darcy reached him. “I beg your pardon. I suppose my thoughts were elsewhere.”
“I was on my way to Bingley House to collect you for a bit of riding if you have the taste for it.”
A tepid smile spread over the other man’s face. “That would be just the thing. Exercise is precisely what I require to put me in spirits.” His friend had been out of spirits too frequently of late, Darcy had noticed. Since their return from Hertfordshire in November, he had grown quieter, almost melancholy.
“Excellent!” Darcy perhaps did not require as much distraction as Bingley, but he had also felt a little out of sorts since returning from Hertfordshire—although there was no obvious reason. Perhaps a ride would help him dispatch some of this restlessness. “Shall we start off from Darcy House?”
“Yes, but I am not attired for a ride,” Bingley said. “Would you accompany me to Bingley House so I may change my clothing?”
Darcy managed a wary smile. “Certainly.” With any luck, Caroline Bingley would be away from home, and Darcy would not need to exchange pleasantries with her.
As they traversed the remaining distance to Bingley House, the two men conversed about the weather and mutual acquaintances. When Bingley opened the door to his home, however, Darcy’s hopes of escaping the man’s sister were immediately dashed.
Miss Bingley’s nasal voice blared into the hallway from the adjoining drawing room, although it was impossible to discern the words.
“Dash it all!” Bingley exclaimed. “Caroline and Louisa have guests. If I do not say hello, they will give me no end of grief about it.”
Darcy sighed. It would be the height of bad manners not to accompany his host in to greet his sisters and whatever guests had arrived. “Of course.”
The drawing room was inhabited by women, who all rose and curtsied when the men entered. Darcy and Bingley both bowed. Darcy first noticed Bingley’s sisters, Louisa Hurst and Caroline Bingley. The third woman was a bit older and unknown to him. The fourth woman…
The fourth woman was Elizabeth Bennet.
By some sort of alchemy, the sight of her instantly extracted all the air from his lungs. His breathing ceased altogether, and it was possible his heart stopped beating as well. He knew, somewhere in the dim recesses of his mind, that a civil greeting was called for. But the entire English language appeared to have deserted him.
Fortunately, Bingley was not stricken with the same affliction. “Miss Bennet!” he cried, a broad smile on his face. “I did not know you were in London!” Good Lord, Darcy thought. If Bingley were a puppy, he would lick her face.
“I arrived but three days ago,” Elizabeth replied with a smile that was far more reserved. “I am in London to celebrate the Christmas season with my aunt and uncle.” She gestured to the older woman. “This is my aunt, Madeline Gardiner.”
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance,” Bingley said. Darcy gave her a nod as she repeated the sentiment. She was not ill-favored and was dressed in a very genteel manner, quite different from the garish costumes Elizabeth’s mother and younger sisters favored.
“The Gardiner family lives on Gracechurch Street, in Cheapside,” Miss Bingley drawled. Mrs. Gardiner flushed, and Elizabeth’s expression darkened. Had the entire conversation been like this? If so, Darcy was amazed they had not drawn knives already.
“Tell me,” Bingley hastily addressed Elizabeth, “did you arrive in London alone? Did not Ja—any of your sisters accompany you?”
A flash in Elizabeth’s eyes showed she had noticed Bingley’s slip. “Unfortunately, I am quite alone. Jane was to have accompanied me, but she had a fall the day before and was unable to come.”
“A fall!” The alarm on Bingley’s face suggested he was prepared to ride for Longbourn that instant.
Elizabeth’s intent scrutiny of Bingley was at odds with the light tone of her voice. “Nothing of great import. She slipped on the stairs and sprained an ankle, but the apothecary wants her to stay off her feet for a week or so. She was sorry to miss the chance to visit.”
Bingley’s face had gone quite pale. “Please give her my best wishes for a quick recovery.” Elizabeth nodded.
“How distressing!” Miss Bingley exclaimed. “I hope it will not hinder her fine dancing.”
Mrs. Hurst snickered. Jane Bennet was not terribly light on her feet, and the Netherfield drawing room had witnessed many derisive comments to that effect.
Elizabeth eyed the two women narrowly. “I should not think so. She is always sought as a dancing partner.”
That was true, Darcy reflected. The woman was quite pretty and had an amiable temperament; he believed she had not sat out one dance in the time he was in Hertfordshire.
Bingley bounced on his feet, again resembling a restless puppy. “I pray you, give her—er, your family—my regards.”
