Page 5

Though Darcy did his best to conceal a grimace, he suspected his efforts were not entirely successful.

The night of the Meryton assembly had come, and as he had expected, the entire village was in an uproar.

There was nothing surprising about that.

As in Lambton, the little village almost at the doorstep of his home, a public assembly was the height of entertainment in a small country community.

Even so, Darcy dreaded having to wade through countless introductions — not to mention the prospect of dancing.

“Do not look so glum, old friend,” Bingley whispered as they rode to the assembly in his fine carriage. “You look as if you are going to a funeral vigil rather than a party.”

“You know how I feel about such things,” Darcy said.

“It is a pity we could not stay in this evening. I think we are all quite exhausted from the journey, Charles,” Miss Bingley put in.

“Indeed, they might have done without us for this first assembly,” Mrs Hurst added. Her husband gave a nondescript grunt, which Darcy could only take for agreement.

Bingley scoffed at the idea. “And let this opportunity pass us by? By no means. If I am to settle here, I shall wish to be on good terms with my neighbours. It will not do to slight them.”

“We are not sure that you want to settle here, Charles. We have only been in the vicinity for a few days. You cannot have made up your mind that quickly.” Mrs Hurst picked at the small pieces of down that had floated down from her ostrich plumes and landed on her gown.

“I would not make any decisions until you have lived here for at least three months.”

“It is a very charming place, sister. I am sure you will agree when you have had a chance to settle in. Already, I have ridden over field and glen, and I am sure there can be no prettier countryside than this. And the people are so warm and welcoming. I have had dozens of visitors already, welcoming me to the village.”

Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley exchanged a knowing glance.

Though Bingley seemed not to notice, Darcy had no difficulty in interpreting their meaning.

He had the same thought: were the local people particularly pleasant to everyone who came to the vicinity, or had rumours of Bingley’s wealth caused his popularity?

But though Darcy shared the ladies’ doubts, he could not agree with their readiness to overrule their brother.

He cleared his throat. “It would be wise to see how the first weeks go, I agree. But I can see how you have already grown fond of the area. It is a very fine prospect that you have from Netherfield.”

Bingley smiled at him by way of a silent thank you . His sisters were quiet on the subject after that.

They were unlikely friends, perhaps: Bingley the social butterfly, and Darcy, who was more at home in his fields or behind his desk than in a ballroom.

The two could hardly be more different. Bingley loved nothing more than meeting new people.

Perhaps it was down to his upbringing, or perhaps it was down to his naturally cheerful disposition.

Bingley seemed made for good humour, from his sturdy build to his effortlessly charming smile. Even the man’s hair was sunny.

Miss Caroline Bingley was a rather different creature than her younger brother, and one much less apt to approve of everyone she met. Darcy would have approved of her more careful outlook on society, had she not betrayed an outlook that was nearly cynical.

Still, even cynicism had its uses. It had become their shared task, though always an unspoken one, that they were to keep the young Mr Bingley in check.

They arrived at the assembly room, greeted by the sound of music and laughter and chatter floating to them through the open double doors at the front of the building.

Darcy climbed out after Bingley. He helped Miss Bingley down.

“My goodness, what an uproar,” she said under her breath.

Bingley offered his sister his arm, and they started inside.

Darcy waited until the Hursts had climbed out of the carriage and followed their younger siblings.

Bringing up the rear of the party was not only a courtesy, but a pleasure, for it would allow him to avoid being the first to show his face before so many strangers.

A lively tune was being played, but no sooner had they entered than the music died down and everyone turned to stare at them, making a wide berth down the centre of the large room to allow them to pass.

Darcy could feel the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead.

The sensation of being the centre of attention for all present was one he loathed — loathed, and was all too familiar with.

Had he ever entered a ballroom without being preceded by whispers of ‘Mr Darcy, of Pemberley’?

When they reached the other side of the room, the dancing began again, chaotically at first, as everyone found their partners and their place in the dance, then more smoothly.

Darcy turned to Miss Bingley and lowered his voice.

“Will you dance the next set with me, Miss Bingley?” he asked.

He did not want to have to endure the longing looks of the mothers for long this evening.

If he could tell them he and Miss Bingley were already engaged for the next set, it would at least give him something of a reprieve.

Before she could give him more than a smile and a nod of acceptance, their attention was drawn another way.

“What a delightful creature!” Bingley exclaimed under his breath.

Darcy followed his gaze across the room and saw an elegant young lady coming toward them, along with a man who seemed to be her father.

An older and younger woman came along behind them, and they all fanned out in front of the little dais where they had taken refuge.

Sir Lucas stepped forward and started the introductions.

“Mr Bingley, welcome to our humble assembly. I believe you already have been acquainted with Mr Bennet?”

“Yes, indeed, I have. A pleasure to see you again, Mr Bennet.”

“Charmed,” Mr Bennet said, looking almost as uncomfortable as Darcy felt.

“And may I present Mrs Bennet, Miss Jane Bennet, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” Sir Lucas went on.

Darcy looked over the ladies. Miss Jane Bennet was indeed the most beautiful young woman he had seen that night, with her blonde hair pulled into a simple but becoming style.

She wore a light blue dress with a pink ribbon; cotton, he believed.

He could almost feel Miss Bingley looking down her nose at the young woman.

Well, perhaps not quite , Darcy thought, and forced himself to stifle a wicked grin.

If he knew Miss Bingley, her thoughts would be half contempt for her new acquaintance’s simple style of dress, and half jealousy of her undeniable beauty.

With an effort, Darcy forced his attention back to the conversation, lest he betray his inattention.

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr Bingley,” Mrs Bennet was saying. “I have three other daughters, but they are already dancing.”

“I am eager to meet them as well, Madame. May I present my sister and her husband, Mr and Mrs Hurst? And this is my sister, Miss Caroline Bingley.” Mr Bingley waved a hand at him, no doubt wanting him to step forward. “And this is my dear friend, Mr Darcy.”

Darcy bowed slightly at the waist, then baulked at what to say next, frozen at being put on the spot. “How do you do?” he asked, and repressed a wince. Even in his own ears, he had sounded stiff and disapproving.

The Bennet’s curtsied and bowed in return, seeming to overlook his coldness.

Thankfully, Bingley quickly called all their attention to himself, delighting Mrs Bennet by asking the elder Miss Bennet to dance.

With approval and a little surprise, Darcy saw that Miss Jane Bennet’s agreement was elegant and simple, entirely free of her mother’s vulgar attentions.

Of course, such elegance could not continue long. Mrs Bennet looked pointedly at him in an obvious hint to ask the younger sister. “I am engaged to dance with Miss Bingley,” Darcy said quickly.

Miss Elizabeth looked away, her small smile oddly pleasing.

“Well, I see Charlotte yonder. I shall go and keep her company.” She raised her eyes to his, bowed, then walked away with her head held high.

Darcy had not meant to offend her. Indeed, she may not have been as pretty as the elder Miss Bennet, but she was lovely in her own right, with dark, wavy hair attractively arranged with small ringlets framing her face and fine brown eyes.

He could not help but be intrigued by her as she walked away and joined Sir Lucas’s daughter at the side of the room.

“Shall we dance?” Miss Bingley asked, bringing him out of his reverie.

“Of course,” Darcy said.

“I shall fetch some punch,” Mr Hurst said abruptly, walking away to leave Mrs Hurst a wallflower.

The man was insufferably rude to his wife, Darcy thought grimly.

Of course, that was hardly a surprise. Since the Hursts’ marriage three years before, Mr Hurst had proven himself to have no taste for his wife’s company.

It was not, perhaps, entirely his fault.

Mrs Hurst, and Miss Bingley for that matter, had barbed tongues.

It was rare they had anything good to say about anyone, unless that person was both wealthy and well-connected.

Mrs Hurst had chosen a husband of more fashion than fortune, and had made no secret of her resentment that she had not achieved both in her marriage.

“I do not think I have ever seen such a lively assembly. Perhaps too lively. Certainly, the parties in London are more elegant.” Miss Bingley said as they came to the line-up. He left her to stand opposite, taking his place with the men.