Page 1

Library

Netherfield Hall

After Midnight

27 th November, 1811

“Why did you close the door?” Elizabeth Bennet demanded.

Fitzwilliam Darcy, master of Pemberley, turned hastily and shook his head. “I did not. It must have swung shut from the draft.”

Of all the things Elizabeth did not want, it was to be in a closed room alone with Mr. Darcy, and she hurried over to open it again.

She tried to turn the knob, and failed, and frowned, and tried once again, and then directed wide eyes toward Darcy. “It is locked!”

“Nonsense, it cannot be!” he declared, rushing to her side. “You merely need to twist the knob and…”

She retreated a few steps back, not wishing to be in such close proximity to her companion, and watched as he too struggled to turn the knob, which resisted his efforts.

“I believe I know how to open a door, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her tone shriller than usual in her distress.

He was facing away from her, still battling the door, and then he spun around, and his jaw was set. “You are correct, Miss Elizabeth. It will not open. It must have broken somehow, and we are trapped ... together.”

“I know,” she said with a mixture of anger and terror. “What are we to do?”

***

Netherfield Hall

Hours Earlier

26 th November, 1811

Elizabeth Bennet, second daughter of Thomas Bennet, master of Longbourn, followed her parents, sisters, and male cousin through the imposing front door of Netherfield Hall. The upcoming ball was the most magnificent social event of the year, and she was both irritated and excited. The irritation was solely due to her cousin, Mr. Collins, heir of her family estate of Longbourn, who had already claimed her first set of dances. He was a fool and probably a bad dancer, and she was most displeased. On the other hand, Mr. Wickham, a handsome, charming militia officer, would also be at the dance, and she intended to spend as much time with him as possible.

The familiar vestibule of Netherfield Hall glowed with the light of a dozen candles in their silver sticks, with mirrors in gilded frames propped artfully behind them. Elizabeth stood in the middle of the cluster of her sisters, all of them dressed in their evening finery, and craned her head around to look at the people filling the hall. All of them were well-known to her, as they were the same neighbors she had known her entire life. Only Mr. Charles Bingley and Miss Caroline Bingley, standing ready to greet their guests and looking very fine in their best garments, were new to the area, and they were, certainly, well acquainted with the Longbourn party.

Of course, other guests were also newly arrived to Meryton, and it was for one of these that Elizabeth was searching. To her disappointment, she spotted no bright red coat, no handsome face. But she concealed her emotions well and turned to smile and curtsey as the receiving line moved up, and her father and mother, with her cousin Mr. Collins right beside them, greeted their host and hostess .

Elizabeth's countenance became merry as Mr. Bingley extricated his hand from Mr. Collins's fervent grip and turned to Jane. She watched in approval as he bowed over her elder sister's hand, the very picture of gallantry, and favored the lovely Miss Bennet with his brightest smile.

"I look forward to opening the ball with you, Miss Bennet," he told her with unmistakable eagerness before turning to Elizabeth. He would do very well for Jane, she thought as she returned his pleasantries; both of them were of remarkably even temper and kind disposition.

The amusement returned to Elizabeth's smile as she greeted Miss Bingley. Now there was someone who was not best pleased by the match. Though Miss Bingley's smile was as correct as ever, the skin around her eyes was pinched. As much as she professed to care for Jane, she plainly wished for her brother to reach higher in society for a bride. Elizabeth's own serenity was unimpaired by this potential obstacle to the match, for one look at the couple showed plainly how very in love they were.

But there were guests behind them, and the master of the house must attend to his duties rather than lingering with the handsome lady who had won his heart. The Bennets proceeded into the magnificently decorated ballroom, and Elizabeth eagerly renewed her search. Her eyes passed without interest over bouquets of hothouse flowers, swathes of pink silk, a chandelier lit up as bright as noonday, and silver polished to a mirror shine. There! Her seeking was rewarded. He stood in the midst of a group of fellow officers, his fine straight white teeth displayed in a brilliant grin as he laughed.

Her smile grew when the gentleman in question caught her eye and hurried toward her, his own face alight with pleasure.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Lieutenant George Wickham said, coming to a halt and bowing. “It is so good to see you this evening. You look absolutely lovely.”

Elizabeth, who had indeed dressed with special care, could not help blushing under the handsome lieutenant’s admiring gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Wickham. You look very well yourself.”

“Thank you,” Wickham replied. “Now, do you have the first dance set free, perhaps?”

Elizabeth’s lips compressed with irritation and she said, “Sadly, I do not, but the second is free.”

“Then may I have the second set?” Wickham asked winsomely.

“Of course, and thank you. ”

At this moment, the musicians began playing and a familiar – and annoying – voice spoke from Elizabeth’s left.

“My dear cousin, I believe it is time for us to enter the dance floor!”

Elizabeth suppressed a grimace and nodded to her cousin, and the two made their way into the line of a country dance.

Unfortunately, Mr. Collins proved to be a thoroughly annoying partner, as he seemed entirely unaware of the moves of the dance, or the beats of the music, or to the position of her poor toes. He was at all times overflowing with apologies for his clumsiness, but Elizabeth wished, miserable and embarrassed, that he would instead expend that effort in focusing on the dance instead.

The next set was, of course, with Lieutenant Wickham, and Elizabeth found them as wonderful as the previous dances were terrible. Mr. Wickham was an excellent dancer, light on his feet, and performed the steps with grace and ease, all the while carrying on a cheerful and delicately flirtatious conversation with his partner while they danced through the figures. Elizabeth was disappointed when the set ended, but then the Lieutenant guided her to the refreshment table and helped her acquire lemonade. Her parents were standing nearby, and she had the pleasure of introducing Wickham to them both, and then she and her partner went to sit with Charlotte Lucas, her closest friend, for a few minutes.

When Wickham departed to dance with Charlotte’s younger sister Maria, Elizabeth turned her attention to Charlotte, who said, “Tell me about Mr. Collins, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth moaned softly and cast an anxious look around her, only to relax at the sight of Mr. Collins torturing Miss Phoebe Long by dancing with her, or trying to, at any rate.

“He is our distant cousin and my father’s heir, thanks to the entail,” she explained gloomily. “He is also a clergyman with a valuable living in Kent.”

She hesitated and then continued in a lower tone. “He has indicated that he wishes to marry one of us, and based on his request that I dance the first set with him, I fear he has chosen me as his bride.”

Charlotte blew out a breath and said, “And you are not inclined to accept him?”

Elizabeth turned amazed look on her friend and said, “Marry Mr. Collins? Not in a thousand years, my dear. He is utterly absurd!”

“But he has a good income and will one day be master of Longbourn,” Charlotte pointed out gently. “It is an excellent match, Eliza. ”

Elizabeth shuddered and shook her head. “Not for me, never for me. My dear friend, you do not know how ridiculous he is. He is always…”

She trailed off as Charlotte’s gaze shifted to a position behind her own shoulder, and she turned to discover Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, standing tall and handsome, with a stern look on his face, only a small distance away.

She rose to her feet along with her friend, and both ladies curtsied, though Elizabeth knew her expression was a forbidding one. She could not regret that, as Mr. Darcy had treated Mr. Wickham horridly and had been rude to her as well.

“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said, “may I have the honor of the next set of dances after this one?”

This was such a startling request that Elizabeth found herself agreeing without thinking. He bowed and retreated, and Elizabeth groaned and said, “Whatever was I thinking to consent to dance with that man?”

“I dare say you will find him very agreeable.” Charlotte said in a consoling tone.

“Heaven forbid!Thatwould be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil. And what does he mean by asking me for a set when at the Meryton Ball, a little more than a month ago, he declared that I was not handsome enough to dance with!”

“It seems he has changed his mind, Eliza. It is a great honor.”

Elizabeth scowled hideously and said, “It is not, and I feel as if I am betraying Mr. Wickham by dancing with his enemy.”

Charlotte compressed her lips for a moment and said, “I am certain the lieutenant understands that it is not easy for a lady to reject a gentleman’s request for a dance. Moreover, I beg that you will be courteous to a man who is ten times Wickham’s consequence.”

“I will, of course, be courteous,” Elizabeth replied with a huff, “but I find it obnoxious that he has asked me at all!”

***

Some Minutes Later

On the Dance Floo r

“Cotillions are delightful, are they not?” Elizabeth remarked to her partner. They were more than halfway through the first dance of the set, and Mr. Darcy had not spoken a word. While she had no desire to converse with the man, she also thought it would be a greater punishment for him to be required to talk.

“Yes,” Darcy replied concisely.

The figures continued, and again Elizabeth and her partner were silent for a few minutes. When it was obvious that Darcy had no intention of speaking more, she said, “It isyourturn to say something now, Mr. Darcy.Italked about the dance, andyouought to make some kind of remark on the size of the room or perhaps on the number of couples.”

He smiled, and she noted, absently, that he really was very handsome when he smiled. It was not fair that such a man, blessed with fortune and such a high position in society, should also be so good looking. Mr. Wickham, of course, was equally handsome and far more charming, but he was regrettably also poor.

“I am pleased to say whatever you wish for me to say,” he said.

“Very well, that reply will do for the present. Perhaps, by-and-by, I may observe that private balls are much pleasanter than public ones, butnowwe may be silent. ”

They completed another figure, and then Darcy asked, “Do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?”

“Sometimes. One must speak a little, you know. It would look odd to be entirely silent for half an hour together; and yet, for the advantage ofsome, conversation ought to be arranged so that they can speak as little as possible.”

“Are you consulting your own feelings in the present case, or do you imagine that you are gratifying mine?”

“Both,” replied Elizabeth archly, “for I see a great similarity in the turn of our minds. We are each of an unsocial, taciturn disposition, unwilling to speak, unless we expect to say something that will amaze the whole room and be handed down to posterity with all theéclatof a proverb.”

“This is no very striking resemblance of your own character, I am sure,” Darcy replied. “How near it may be tomine, I cannot pretend to say.Youthink it a faithful portrait, undoubtedly.”

“I must not decide on my own performance.”

He did not reply to this, and they silently completed another set of steps, and then he asked, “Do you and your sisters often walk from Longbourn to Meryton? ”

“We do,” she said. “Indeed, when you met us there the other day, we had just been forming a new acquaintance.”

Darcy’s expression went from calm to angry, and Elizabeth found, to her shame, that she could not go on. When Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham had first laid eyes on one another less than a week previously on the main road in Meryton, it was obvious that there was a problem between the two men, as Mr. Darcy had turned red and Mr. Wickham white. Mr. Wickham had explained the entire matter, that Darcy had refused to give Mr. Wickham, who was the older Mr. Darcy’s godson, a valuable church living, thus casting him out into an unsympathetic world to make his way. She considered herself a brave woman, but that look in Darcy’s eyes made it impossible for her to speak.

Finally, Darcy said in a cold tone, “Mr. Wickham is blessed with such happy manners as may insure hismakingmany friends. Whether he is equally capable ofretainingthem is less certain.”

“He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship,” replied Elizabeth, with emphasis, “and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”

Darcy clenched his jaw at these words, and the rest of the dance was completed in silence.