Chapter One #3
They exchanged bows and curtsies.
“Mr. Bingley is the son of a dear friend from my youth.” Lady Sterling turned back to the gentleman. “Are you still searching for a country house to let?”
“Yes. Unfortunately, I have found no place suitable as of yet.”
“Have you sought a place in Hertfordshire?” Jane asked. “There are several fine houses available near my family’s estate.”
Elizabeth managed not to gape. When had Jane started offering unsolicited advice to strange men? It was most out of character. How interesting.
Mr. Bingley grinned widely at Jane. “I should definitely consider Hertfordshire if it contains such beauties.” Jane blushed. “If you are not already engaged for the next, perhaps you might tell me about Hertfordshire as we dance?”
“It would be my pleasure.” Jane took the arm Mr. Bingley offered, and they chatted amiably as they hastened to the dance floor.
Elizabeth and Lady Sterling exchanged surprised glances. “I have never seen Jane acting so boldly,” Elizabeth exclaimed. “If it were not for her blonde hair, I might have believed we brought Lydia to the ball in her stead.”
“Heaven forbid!” Lady Sterling continued to search the crowds for people she knew.
“Well, I must say that introduction was a success. Now, I must find someone for you. As much as I take pleasure in your repartee, I did not bring you here to entertain me. Let me find some friends and learn if any have accompanied relations your age.”
Elizabeth followed her godmother to the area of chairs set aside for matrons and chaperones.
Once Lady Sterling was sitting with her friends, Elizabeth offered to fetch punch for everyone.
However, as she returned to the ladies with three cups of punch in her hands, she noticed something that chilled her blood.
The sight would not have alarmed most people.
A young clergyman wandered aimlessly on the other side of the ballroom, smiling vapidly at each person he passed as if hoping they would give him a scrap of their attention.
But Elizabeth knew the full horror of the man.
He appeared to be a simple, innocuous man of the cloth, but he was actually pomposity incarnate.
Her father’s cousin, Mr. Collins, was destined to inherit her family home of Longbourn when Elizabeth’s father passed away.
Recently, he visited Longbourn with the object of choosing a wife from among the Bennet sisters.
It was a sign of his profound stupidity that he had fixed upon Elizabeth as the superior choice.
Although none of the Bennet daughters would be happy with a insipid, supercilious husband, Elizabeth possessed the least tolerance for folly and conceit.
Some might pronounce this a character failing, but Elizabeth would freely admit she made no effort to correct it.
She refused Mr. Collins’s proposal in no uncertain terms, but the man was nothing if not persistent. And delusional. He insisted on believing that Elizabeth would someday acquiesce and decide to marry him.
If he noticed Elizabeth at the ball, he would request a dance so he might press his suit. He would follow her about the ballroom like a lost puppy (if puppies had any inclination for discourses on feminine virtue and the greatness of his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh).
He had yet to notice Elizabeth, and she was determined to prolong this good fortune.
It was unlikely Mr. Collins knew Elizabeth was in Town.
He lived in Kent, near his patroness’s estate.
Had she brought him to London? Perhaps she required spiritual advice while shopping.
Elizabeth had never met the woman, but Mr. Collins’s stories about her painted an interesting picture.
Having presented the cups of punch and excused herself, Elizabeth sought a means to escape the man’s notice.
The French doors to the home’s ornate gardens beckoned.
The ballroom was overly warm, and cool April air would be quite welcome.
Moonlit gardens might offer a fair prospect with some early-blooming flowers.
She stepped through the doors with a sense of relief.
Jane would laugh at this story. After arriving at a ball, you escaped outside at your first opportunity.
How characteristic, Lizzy! It was a shame, however.
Elizabeth really did long to dance. Perhaps she could risk venturing back into the ballroom later.
The garden was quite extensive for a property in London. Gravel pathways wound around trees and sculpted bushes. A few torches illuminated the area closest to the ballroom, but the rest remained in shadow. No doubt it would be lovely in full bloom.
She had only taken a few steps into the garden when a sound made the hair on the back of her neck rise.
“Miss Elizabeth!” a man’s voice drawled. “Imagine my astonishment at encountering you here!”
She turned slowly. Surely it could not be— Her luck could not be so poor.
It was. The man was indeed Viscount Harwood, the one man above all whom she did not want to encounter.