Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Hertfordshire, 1811
E lizabeth Bennet switched the brambles as she walked along the muddy path leading from Longbourn to Meryton. It had not been her choice to accompany her bickering younger sisters, but her eldest sister, Jane, had a headache, and their middle sister, Mary, was unable to check Lydia and Kitty’s unruly behaviour. And so it fell upon Elizabeth’s shoulders to listen to them rattle on about the same subjects and the same people.
“Lizzy, Lydia had a dream last night that we shall all meet our future husbands at the upcoming assembly,” Kitty said, interrupting her reveries.
Elizabeth burst into laughter. “I should hope not! We know almost everyone who will be in attendance, and eligible men are in short supply.”
“Have you forgotten Mr Bingley? Mrs Long said that he will return from town with a large group,” Lydia said. “Everyone who has met him says he is very handsome and pleasant.” She turned to Kitty, adding with a sly smirk, “And, of course, there is always someone to flirt with.” Kitty’s cheeks flushed pink.
“You might try amusing yourself without seeking out the attention of every gentleman present,” said Elizabeth.
“You are beginning to sound just like Mary,” Lydia exclaimed. Imitating their sister’s voice, she said, “‘The loss of virtue in a female is irretrievable. Let us remember that a woman’s reputation is no less brittle than it is beautiful.’”
Kitty laughed, but Elizabeth warned, “Mary is correct. You should take greater care to guard your behaviour around members of the opposite sex.” She stopped and faced her sisters. Speaking with patience, she continued, “A woman’s virtue is important, but so is trust. When we marry, our lives depend on our husbands. We must have faith in the integrity of their character, and in return, they deserve to have faith in ours. I believe a woman’s trust is the most precious gift you can give, and therefore you must look for someone worthy to entrust your heart and your future security to. I fear that if you court the attention of unscrupulous individuals, you will forever be tainted by the actions of those undeserving of you.”
While Kitty appeared to take notice of her words, Lydia did not. She pointed down the road and cried, “Oh look! It is Frederick Lucas. Who is that with him?” Waving wildly, she called to the gentlemen, who returned the greeting.
The Bennet and the Lucas families had been friends since Elizabeth’s infancy. Frederick Lucas was a pleasant young man, happily unburdened by the weight of any considerable intellect. Today, it was his companion that caught her interest. Tall and thickset, his hair curled wildly about his forehead. His clothes were fine, and his boots shone. There was a scar on his lip that twisted his mouth into an arrogant-looking grin, and he emanated confidence. She guessed he was about five-and-thirty, although he might easily have been ten years older or younger.
Mr Lucas introduced the stranger as Mr Leonard Bull. “He has taken up lodgings at the Crown and hopes to remain in Meryton until—oh, dash it—I cannot recall for how long you intend to stay.”
Mr Bull bowed very handsomely to them. “My stay is of an undetermined length. I have an elderly cousin in Bramfield who is in need of my assistance.” He indicated vaguely in the direction of a distant village. “Although I am pleased that I am not to rush away quickly, now that I have learnt how uncommonly pretty the women are around here.” Mr Bull gave them a playful wink, causing Lydia and Kitty to giggle. He smiled benevolently at them before casting his eyes appreciatively towards Elizabeth.
She nodded curtly. “Come, Kitty, Lydia. We should leave the men to walk in peace.”
“I am sure they would be happy with our company,” Lydia said.
“It appears we are walking the same way.” Mr Lucas’s chest swelled with a gallant theatricality. “It would be an honour to escort you fair ladies into town.”
Reluctantly, Elizabeth relented, desperately hoping that she would not be embarrassed by her sisters’ attempts to flirt with the newcomer.
Walking with the gentlemen was not as bad as she feared. She learnt that Mr Bull had arrived from London the previous night and had met Mr Lucas when they shared a table at the Crown. Kitty and Lydia soon fell under Mr Bull’s charm, his constant deference to their superior knowledge of Meryton flattering their vanity.
“I understand that this beautiful property is to be leased to a gentleman by the name of Mr Bingley,” Mr Bull said when they stopped by the gate to Netherfield Park. “Do you know much about the new tenants?”
“Only that Mr Bingley is young, handsome, and has a fortune of four or five thousand a year,” replied Lydia carelessly.
“It would seem that you know everything of importance about him,” Mr Bull laughed. “His arrival must have caused a stir in the neighbourhood.”
“To be sure,” cried Lydia. “There is nothing at all to do in Meryton, and everyone is all in an uproar, for he is meant to be very amiable as well as unmarried.”
“Lydia, that will do,” Elizabeth interjected.
“Oh, let us not be stuffy and formal.” Mr Bull gave Lydia a broad smile.
“We hope to meet him at the assembly next week,” said Kitty. “I have heard that he is to bring twelve ladies and seven gentlemen from London with him.”
“As many as that?” A curious gleam flashed in Mr Bull’s eye. “I wonder whether they shall bring any excitement to Hertfordshire. I wonder—do you know any names of Mr Bingley’s intended party?”
“I cannot fathom what all the fuss is about,” Mr Lucas, his neck flushed, interrupted Mr Bull’s speculative musings. “I daresay he will not stay long. Aside from sport, there is precious little else for a man to amuse himself with here.”
“I cannot agree with you on that score. Hertfordshire has its charms.” Mr Bull cast an admiring eye over Elizabeth, sending a chill down her spine.
“Meryton is the dullest place ever to have existed,” declared Lydia loudly.
“London is a marvellous place, but our amusement in life need not be confined to the capital. Man makes his own mischief — that is my motto. If I am in need of fun, I create it.” A twinkle danced in Mr Bull’s eyes, and, with a flourish of his hands, the gate was swiftly unlatched, creaking loudly as it swung, leaving it open to the Alderney cows grazing in the meadow. “Let us see what mayhem we can cause. I wonder to where the poor beasts will adventure?”
Elizabeth remained silent while the others laughed. Mr Bull looked at her, tipped his hat, and winked. Beckoning to their companions, he said, “What trouble can we cause next?”
Heart sinking, Elizabeth watched as her sisters and Mr Lucas eagerly followed him down the path.
Darcy turned the letter in his hands. He had received it in London yesterday, and it had been burning a hole in his pocket ever since. How he wished he had found an excuse to postpone his cursed stay with Bingley! He might still be with his beloved sister, not stuck in this dreary provincial town devoid of sensibility or refinement. Even worse, Bingley had arranged for them to attend an assembly tonight.
Once again, he opened the sheet of paper and read the single word upon it: Ramsgate . A deep foreboding clutched him. There was no date, no signature, nothing whatsoever to indicate who had sent it, or what their motive might be. A reference to Ramsgate signified a threat to Georgiana. It was the only conclusion. I must do everything in my power to protect her. I must succeed where before I have failed. His cousin Dominic’s face, youthful and smiling, appeared before him; the pain of the memory was so acute it physically hurt his chest.
Placing the note inside the hidden compartment of his writing box, he prepared to write a letter of his own, instructing his sister’s companion, Mrs Annesley, to keep a closer watch on her.
Darcy’s instinct had been correct. The assembly rooms were overcrowded, filled to the rafters with loud, uncouth country-folk. Whispers of ‘ten thousand a year’ followed him as he stalked round the room, reviewing all the places he would rather be.
One woman, overdressed in a gauzy clash of yellow and pink, eyed him suspiciously, then began to talk behind her elaborately patterned fan, the ornament barely concealing her remarks. Darcy’s heart tightened as he caught her words through the music.
“Yes, a duel. Such a promising man, and he died far too young.”
He danced only with Bingley’s sisters. Too often, Miss Bingley intruded on his solitude by seeking him out during the intervals.
“Are you not thankful that London is nothing like this?” she murmured to him, a look of disdain on her face. “So little breeding, such unseemly manners.”
When he did not answer immediately, she continued, “Charles has lost his heart already.” She looked at a beautiful young woman who was speaking to Bingley. “I hope this new infatuation will not last. He falls in love too easily. I fear that he does not possess your superior powers of discernment.”
Not wanting to encourage her, he remained silent, but it only served to make her try a different subject.
“ How is dear Georgiana?”
Mention of his sister cut through Darcy’s brooding, and the image of the letter came to mind with its ominous single word. “Please, excuse me,” he said curtly and sought a quieter corner, one in which he hoped she would not find him.
She did not, but a while later, her brother did. By his flushed cheeks and delighted smile, it was clear Bingley was enjoying himself. He clapped Darcy on the shoulder. “Come, I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner.”
There can be nothing more annoying than a person in good spirits when one is determined to be irritable, thought Darcy. “I certainly shall not.”
“Do not be a curmudgeon. Let me find you a partner.” Bingley looked about the room. “I see one of Miss Bennet’s sisters sitting down just behind you who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.''
“Which do you mean?” Turning round, his gaze fell on a slender, dark-haired woman of about twenty. She raised her large, expressive eyes to him. Displeased at being caught staring, he returned his attention to Bingley, retorting with some feeling, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me , and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.”
Bingley laughed. “Well, I shall enjoy myself, if you cannot.”
Soon, his friend was gone, returning to Miss Bennet. A soft flutter of fabric by Darcy’s side indicated that the young woman had also left her seat. He watched as she made her way across the room to talk to a small cluster of people. Her manner was vivacious, and everyone laughed at what she said. With a touch of annoyance, he noted that Bingley had been correct—she was very pretty. One of the group’s members looked at him, and he reddened to realise he was the subject of their amusement. Anger coursed in his breast, and he pushed away from the wall, deciding to seek yet another place to wait out the end of the assembly.
Elizabeth’s sides still hurt from laughing. She glanced at Mr Darcy again. The arrogant gentleman had his nose stuck so far up in the air that he put her in mind of the caricatures Papa was so fond of. His manner of address was so pompous, it was a miracle she had not laughed in his face when she heard his comment. She spent a little while talking to her dear friend Charlotte Lucas before going in search of refreshment. In the supper room, she waited her turn to serve herself a cup of the warm, spiced Negus.
A voice at her elbow startled her. “Miss Elizabeth, I have just heard some shocking news.” It was Mr Bull, his expression full of mock concern. “It appears that for all his reported wealth, Mr Darcy has yet to invest in a pair of spectacles.”
Without waiting his turn, Mr Bull poured glasses of punch for them. She accepted her drink graciously, disguising her annoyance at his presumption.
“He is a fool,” Mr Bull said, “for surely no man could ever describe you as merely tolerable.”
His remarks did not strike the same comforting note as those of her friends. Sipping her drink, she nodded in answer.
Mr Bull continued, undeterred by her silence. “If you are not otherwise engaged, I should like to claim the next set.”
Elizabeth could not refuse if she hoped to dance again that night. “Thank you, sir.”
When the next set began, she was surprised to discover that Mr Bull was an accomplished dancer. As their hands met, she noted that, in his blue coat, he was more handsome than she had previously given him credit for, despite the scar on his lip.
“Are you often quiet when you dance?” Mr Bull asked. “I am not. I dearly love to talk. It is a tremendous fault of mine and quite robs me of breath.”
“If you wish to talk, then I am content to listen.”
“You are in luck. When you have travelled as much as I, one is never short of an outrageous anecdote.”
Curiosity roused, Elizabeth asked, “Where have you travelled, and for what reason?”
“For many years, I toiled as a public servant.”
After they were briefly separated by the pattern, she asked, “What was the most shocking thing you encountered?”
“There are too many to tell, and very few for polite company.” He gave a mysterious smile. “I once saw a pair of humpback whales breaching fifteen yards from our packet to Mauritius. That was a privilege I shall not forget.”
“Humpback whales!” She could not hide the envy in her voice. “I once saw a drawing of the creatures in a book of my father’s.”
“An illustration does not do them justice, Miss Elizabeth. Until you see the barnacles on their skin with your own eyes, the majestic breadth of their body as they leap from the waves—” He shook his head wistfully. “It is as though God created that moment for you alone to witness.”
The dance was nearly at an end, but Elizabeth yearned to hear more. As they walked down the line one final time, she noted Mr Darcy leaning against the wall nearby. He was watching her, and she quickly turned her head away. Just as I was beginning to enjoy myself, too, she thought, with a dart of annoyance in her chest.
At her actions, Mr Bull raised a quizzical eyebrow. Looking about, a quiet sound of comprehension escaped his lips. Their positions in the dance changed, leaving Mr Bull’s back to Mr Darcy. He gave her a quick wink followed by a devilish grin, and, taking a step backwards, he feigned a stumble and knocked into the unsuspecting Mr Darcy. A muttered cry rang out, and several heads turned towards them. Mr Darcy’s previously immaculate breeches were covered in a dark liquid.
“Forgive me, sir,” Mr Bull said, his apology evidently exaggerated. “How clumsy of me! Though I cannot take the full blame. My dance partner is partly at fault, for she is so lovely, I forgot the steps.” He gave Elizabeth another playful wink, and she recoiled internally at his lack of propriety.
Mr Darcy glared at Mr Bull, who cheerfully continued, “You must allow me to replace your clothing. Or send it to me, and I shall have my valet clean them.”
“Your assistance is unnecessary,” Mr Darcy said, the look on his face venomous.
“Capital news!” Mr Bull exclaimed, “I found the notion that I had ruined your fine clothes intolerable. ” The inflection on the last word was slight, but it was unmistakable. Mr Darcy’s look hardened further, and he glanced suspiciously at Elizabeth.
I hope he does not think I am responsible. Elizabeth’s cheeks burnt hot.
They were creating a spectacle, and anxious to prevent an argument, she set aside her reservations regarding Mr Bull, and led him away, saying, “Let us leave Mr Darcy in peace. I am sure he has had quite enough of your help.”