Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
Hertfordshire
Darcy glanced at the beautiful lady walking by his side.
His heart was so full of longing and hope—desperate, aching hope—that it had pushed all thought from him, robbing him of his ability to speak.
When last he had seen Elizabeth Bennet, whom he had loved for the better part of a year, her silence towards him had been enough to convince him that she could never return his love, could not even esteem him sufficiently to marry him.
But then his meddlesome aunt had called on him in London, and what she had said gave him reason to believe his dearest wish might come true.
Elizabeth had refused to promise Lady Catherine that she would never accept his proposal.
Why can I not speak? He berated himself for stupidity; had he not spent hours, literally hours, practising what he would say?
He did not want to make a fool of himself and insult her as he had the previous spring in Kent.
Yet at present, being so close to her that he could smell the light floral scent she wore, he was speechless.
The day was fair, and they, Bingley, Miss Bennet, and Miss Catherine had set out on a walk.
The younger lady had just left them, skipping down the lane towards Lucas Lodge, and the other couple, lately betrothed, were some ways behind him and Elizabeth.
It was the perfect time for him to ask if her feelings for him had improved, if she could forgive him for not making Wickham’s evilness known earlier, which might have prevented her sister Lydia’s elopement and eventual marriage to the scoundrel.
At the very moment he was prepared to slap himself to dislodge the words stuck in his throat, she—his wonderful, beautiful Elizabeth—thanked him for his efforts to secure her sister’s reputation.
He thrust aside disappointment that Mrs Gardiner had told her about his involvement and seized his opportunity.
“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on the subject for ever.”
His heart thudded so loudly, he was afraid he would not be able to hear her response.
Eagerly observing her, he noticed signs of embarrassment.
Her cheeks were pink, which made him want to caress and kiss them before turning his attention to her lips.
They were presently twitching as though she was trying not to smile, or was attempting to form words, or possibly both.
Her eyes, bright and expressive as always, briefly met his.
And then she did smile—a broad, marvellous grin full of promise and joy, and an expression of heartfelt delight diffused over her face. She opened her mouth and softly, so tenderly, she said, “Mr Darcy, I—”
“Mr Darcy! Sir, oh, I’m glad to have found you!”
Darcy turned towards the most unexpected and unwanted intruder.
Rushing towards them was a youthful footman named John he recognised as belonging to Netherfield.
The man was flushed, and he breathed heavily, as though he had been running.
Darcy wanted to scream and possibly kick him for interrupting at just that moment, just when he was about to secure his future happiness.
“What is it?” he asked, battling between frustration and knowing the man would not have sought him out if the matter was not serious.
“Sir, your family has arrived. At Netherfield Park, I mean.” He paused and pressed a hand to his chest as he evidently sought to control his breathing.
“My family?” Darcy’s brow furrowed as he regarded the footman, then Elizabeth. She stepped closer to him, her features displaying the anxiety he felt.
John nodded. “There must be half a dozen of them, sir. They demanded to see you at once, and were not pleased to hear you were not there. The butler sent me to find you.”
Again, Darcy looked at Elizabeth. She grasped his hand, likely supposing as he did that something grave must have occurred for his relations to travel to Hertfordshire without warning.
A multitude of questions ran through his mind: Who had come?
Was Georgiana with them? Had something happened to his sister, or had someone died?
But why would they not just send an express to inform him?
“You must go,” Elizabeth said. She nodded, which he took as her way of saying all was well between them.
“Come with me. Please,” he said. “Whatever has happened…” If it was dreadful news, he would be able to confront it better with her by his side.
“Of course,” she replied at once.
Her hand was still in his, and he tightened his grip to communicate his gratitude. Looking behind him, he saw that Bingley and Miss Bennet were not so far away; their pace had quickened, no doubt because of the footman’s arrival.
“Bingley, some of my relations—I do not know which—have come to see me. I-I do not know why,” Darcy called.
Miss Bennet’s eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her gloved hand. Bingley’s shock and concern were equally as visible. He said, “Go. I shall…” His gaze went to Miss Bennet and then Elizabeth.
“I will return with him,” Elizabeth said, giving her sister a resolute, reassuring smile.
“We shall join you there. You are much faster walkers than I am,” Miss Bennet said.
Darcy nodded and turned his steps towards the path leading to Netherfield. On his own, he might have run, but it was worth the extra time it would take to have Elizabeth with him.
“What could it mean?” he said, more to himself than her. “What if something has happened to Georgiana?”
“I know you do not expect me to answer, but surely we shall find our fears are for naught. If something terrible had happened, your family would have sent an express, asking you to go to London or wherever you were needed.”
Her hand was still in his, and he was tempted to kiss it; probably he would have, if it had not meant slowing their pace. “I have thought the same. But it is very odd.”
“We shall find out what has brought them here soon enough. I am certain all will be well.”
He nodded, struggling to believe her. But as long as I have her love, I can confront any challenge, no matter how dreadful.