Chapter 1
ONE
Elizabeth stared at the newcomers in horror, one in particular.
Beads of perspiration slid down her back, while an icy hand gripped her heart.
This could not be happening. He could not be here.
Barely a fortnight since their bitter argument at the Hunsford parsonage, since he had proposed in such an insulting way.
And since she had read his letter. Oh, that letter, and what it had done to her!
It had caused her so much shame and countless sleepless nights, as she struggled to understand how she had allowed herself to misunderstand him as deeply as she had.
At present, Mr Darcy stood across from her in the drawing room of Haelthorpe Brook, the home of Alexander Ryde, the Earl of Halsley, a gentleman she had never heard of a week ago.
From the little she could gather of the conversation taking place about her, she believed that not only had her father known the earl for some thirty years—although most of their acquaintance was maintained through infrequent correspondence—the earl was close friends with Mr Darcy’s father and his uncle, the Earl of Romsley.
And now we are trapped here together for…how long does he stay? Has he said?
With effort, she made herself attend to the introductions and chitchat, and was able to curtsey at the proper time. Accompanying Mr Darcy were two ladies, his sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy, and her companion, Mrs Annesley.
“It is an extraordinary coincidence,” Lord Halsley said. “To think that you met my godson last autumn.” He chuckled. “It can only be a benefit, I believe, there being some familiarity between you. It will make the next week easier.”
Her attention caught on the mention of ‘week’, which she supposed was the expected length of the Darcys’ stay; she and her father would be at Haelthorpe for at least as long, depending on whether he decided to extend the visit.
“Extraordinary, indeed,” Mr Bennet said. “What say you, Lizzy? Are you not anticipating spending the next week renewing your acquaintance with Mr Darcy?”
His tone was seemingly mild, but knowing him as she did, she understood he expected to be amused by the situation—and he would think nothing of how uncomfortable she might be.
As much as she loved her father, he was not adept at understanding how others felt.
At the moment, her face felt aflame, and her skin itchy.
Involuntarily, her gaze went to Mr Darcy; he was looking at her, although he quickly averted his eyes.
His complexion was pale, and his lips were pressed together so tightly they had almost disappeared.
Miss Georgiana Darcy looked between her brother and Elizabeth, with her gaze finally ending on Mrs Annesley, her expression suggesting she was confused.
As well she might be, Elizabeth thought.
She ought to say something. She had to say something, lest their companions begin to speculate about how uneasy she and Mr Darcy were together.
Her father did not know that she had seen him in Kent, let alone what had passed between them, and she was desperate that he not learn of it.
“I-I am sure we shall have a delightful time exploring Lord Halsley’s beautiful estate.
Let us hope the weather cooperates,” she said, hoping no one noticed the strain in her voice.
Her father regarded her, one eyebrow cocked, and it appeared as though Mr Darcy’s shoulders fell slightly, as though he were ever so slightly less on guard.
Did he think she would renew their argument, or that she had told her father about his proposal?
Stammering, Mr Darcy said, “H-how do you know…?” She could not tell if he was asking her, her father, or the earl.
“Mr Bennet and I met many years ago,” Lord Halsley said. “He and my brother were at school together and became good friends. I have recently acquired a new volume I knew he would find interesting, quite rare, and invited Bennet to come see it. To my delight, he brought his daughter.”
His daughter, who is wondering why you did not ask us at a different time, or mention the name of your guests so that I would have been better prepared to see him.
The last was not fair; after all, she had not enquired about who would be joining them when he had mentioned their impending arrival the previous evening, referring to them only as ‘my godson and his sister’.
“Halsley and I share a curiosity about an obscure part of history we promise not to bore you young people with,” her father added. “No doubt, Lizzy is glad to have other people here, so that she need not feign interest in our conversation. Is that not right, my dear?”
She managed a weak smile at the joke—and the hint of sarcasm, given one of the people was a man he believed she disliked.
He was not wrong regarding her desire for different company.
It was not that the subject they spoke of was fatiguing, but they would debate the same small detail endlessly, questioning what might have been, all while knowing the answers were lost to time.
It would be a relief to be able to talk about something different, to chat with someone while taking a walk about the grounds, perhaps even go into the nearby market town, which her father would permit her to do, if she were not alone.
My hope lies with Miss Darcy. The young lady sat close to her brother and appeared as though she wished she could disappear.
Her brow was slightly furrowed, her chin lowered, and her hands were tightly clasped together in her lap.
Elizabeth recalled Mr Wickham saying Miss Darcy was proud and disagreeable.
But he is a liar and worse, and she was one of his victims. Rather than arrogant, Elizabeth suspected Miss Darcy was shy and unsure of herself.
But time would tell, and—for better or worse—she would have the opportunity to get to know her better.
If asked, Darcy could not have come up with the words to describe how he felt seeing Elizabeth Bennet again.
It had been a miracle he had managed—barely—to remain standing when he saw her in his godfather’s drawing room.
Good lord, she was beautiful, and still he was drawn to her, despite how bitterly angry and disappointed he had been after their exchange at the parsonage.
Rather, it seemed that a large hand on his back was insistently pushing him towards her.
Once he had changed and dismissed his valet, Darcy studied his reflection in the mirror in his chamber.
“I must find a way to…to stop thinking of her, to stop wanting her!” he murmured hoarsely.
Since coincidence had thrown them together yet again, he supposed they would have to talk, to say enough so that they would be able to behave as indifferent acquaintances while they both remained at Haelthorpe.
Part of him wanted to make an excuse and take Georgiana to Pemberley immediately.
But that would not be fair to Lord Halsley, who had been pleased at the thought of having them stay for the week.
And there might be a tiny speck inside of him that could not give up the opportunity to be near Elizabeth again.
It was humiliating, but there it was. A longer period was required before his love for her would be forgot.
After Darcy spent half an hour alone thinking, he made his way to the drawing room just as it was time to go into dinner. The earl had decided they would eat in a smaller dining room at a round mahogany table that comfortably accommodated their party of six.
“I hope you all agree we need not stand on much formality,” Lord Halsley said.
Darcy was not entirely sure what he meant, but when Mr Bennet sat next to the earl and the pair began to speak to each other, apparently returning to a conversation they had been having earlier, he realised that he and the ladies would have to amuse themselves.
To one side, his sister sat; she was nibbling her lower lip and looking about the table with rounded eyes.
Given the presence of two strangers, he doubted Georgiana would say more than was strictly required.
And to his other side was Elizabeth. Her cheeks were rosy, her shoulders stiff, and she was wearing a yellow gown he had seen her in before and that always made him think of sunshine. He wanted to groan and bury his face in his hands, pretend this was not happening.
The only thing that saved him was Mrs Annesley, who sat between Elizabeth and Mr Bennet.
She was used to how silent he and his sister could be and probably appreciated having someone as engaging as Elizabeth to chat with.
The two ladies began a polite, even friendly, exchange.
Darcy surreptitiously listened and was glad to see Elizabeth slowly grow less anxious.
It had not occurred to him that she might be nervous, but given her low opinion of him—the remembrance of it was like a blow to his stomach, and he lowered his forkful of potatoes to the plate—she might have worried about how he would behave towards her.
Glancing at Mr Bennet, Darcy was relieved that the gentleman could not know what had recently passed between his daughter and him.
If he did, he would already have insisted I account for my insulting words, to say nothing of writing to her!
It was all he could do not to retch. The letter. Bitterness of spirit was a pale description of how he had felt as he wrote and rewrote it. No doubt, it had made her hate him even more than she had at the moment he walked out of the parsonage.
Although the food was excellent, he could not eat. The ladies left them at the end of the meal; Darcy did not know if he more wished to be in the drawing room, despite what being near Elizabeth did to him, or was glad to be in the dining room with her father.
“I must show you the book I found, Darcy, the one I used to lure Bennet to visit,” Lord Halsley said, his voice full of good humour. “You will find it interesting.”