Chapter 1
Richard
Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam met Miss Elizabeth Bennet at a concert. She was the guest of Miss Allington, whose family had enjoyed a close relationship with his own family all his life.
His mother, the Countess of Matlock, would have dearly loved to have made a match between Richard and Miss Allington, as the young lady was every bit rich enough and connected enough to have been suitable.
However, Richard was quite thankful that the lady’s father had no desire to allow his daughter to marry a second son.
No, he had an heir in mind for her—a mere baron’s son, rather than an earl’s son, like himself, but a man who would inherit a prosperous estate and a title.
The reasons Richard was thankful were simple.
First, Miss Allington was quite plain and, even at age eighteen, veering towards corpulence.
Second, she was very shy. Richard understood reticence—his own dearest cousins suffered from shyness—but he wished to marry a woman who was passionate about life and unafraid to display her spirit.
That evening, he had noticed Miss Allington and of course made a courteous bow as he murmured her name—but then he had been struck dumb for several crucial seconds as the woman next to her turned his way.
Miss Allington introduced her.
He opened his mouth to form the customary polite acknowledgment, but his brain was still stuttering.
“I am very happy to meet you,” Miss Elizabeth Bennet said to him, and the sound of her contralto voice released him from his speechlessness.
“The pleasure is mine,” he insisted. He bowed over her hand.
“Are you looking forward to hearing Mr Cavendish?” she asked. “I came to London specifically in order to hear him play Clementi’s works, since I have been a devotee of Clementi for years.”
“For years, Miss Bennet? You certainly must have started young…?”
She gazed into his eyes, a thoughtful expression in hers, and he blushed as he realised that he was being very obvious in an attempt to learn her age.
He was certain she was quite young, but her womanly curves—he shifted uneasily and wrested his mind away from where it had wandered, but he still wondered how old she was, hoping that she was not too young.
When Elizabeth answered, her eyes danced. “Well, let me see, Clementi’s music has been popular since the 1770s, so…I have heard and admired his music all of my life?” Finally, the laughter that seemed to bubble just below the surface became audible in a soft chuckle.
Richard had to laugh as well. “Oh, dear. I suppose that I have shown myself to be ridiculous, and I apologise. I do hope you enjoy the concert. Excuse me, Miss Bennet, Miss Allington.”
He bowed and left the two ladies, heading over to a young man he knew from Cambridge.
He listened to his friend ramble on and on about the scandal enveloping the Duke of York, easily supplying the nods and verbal affirmations that would indicate he was paying attention, but instead his mind was entirely on Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Everything about the woman seemed to him to be perfect.
She had dark brown eyes that sparkled with colours best associated with jewels—gold and amber, smoky quartz and topaz—and dark, curly hair that looked almost magical with its coppery highlights.
She was medium height but not medium-anything in build; instead, she was exactly the right amount of curvy and precisely the right amount of slim.
Her smile was brilliant, her movements graceful, and her attitude both forthright and kind.
Her humour, her voice, even her laugh—she was simply perfect.
He would have to find out her circumstances.
And where he could call on her. His mother would easily be able to get the information from Mrs Allington.
He hoped he could introduce Miss Bennet to his mother after the concert, but even if he could not, it would be easy for his mother to obtain all the particulars about the woman of his dreams.
After the concert, Richard hastened to the lobby to catch Miss Allington and Elizabeth (as he now called Miss Bennet in his mind).
He had spoken to his mother, and she was most excited to hear of his interest in a lady.
She was ready to be introduced to a prospective daughter-in-law, ready to do her due diligence on her son’s behalf.
While she waited, she chatted with acquaintances but remained near Richard.
Unfortunately, he never did spot the two ladies.
Whether they had left before the end of the concert or he had missed them one of the times he had been cornered by friends, he was not certain.
But he ended up telling his mother, “You will have to approach Mrs Allington, Mother. The young lady’s name is Elizabeth Bennet.
Please move on this quickly, for she will surely be snatched up by someone. ”
“I will have information for you tomorrow, by noon, Son. You can count on me.”
That night, when he went to Madame Bertin’s, Richard specified that he wished for a woman with dark hair and eyes.
The courtesan who entered the private chamber was as beautiful as Elizabeth, as curvy and brunette, and of course, being one of Madame Bertin’s girls, she was intelligent and cultured.
She easily spoke with him about Clementi’s music and Cavendish’s performances before she began the performance for which he had paid.
Richard enjoyed the encounter very much, and he found many moments during which he could close his eyes and imagine that it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet in his arms.