Page 16 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

My musings were cut short by our arrival at Lucas Lodge. Bingley descended from the carriage first, and I followed close behind. After offering the appropriate greetings to our hosts, I accompanied him across the room and directly to the spot I would have chosen myself.

Miss Bennet stood with her sister, Miss Elizabeth, and their friend, Miss Lucas. As we made our way towards them, I nodded in polite acknowledgement to several gentlemen we passed—all of whom I recognised as acquaintances introduced to me previously by Miss Elizabeth.

At last, we reached their group.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Miss Lucas said warmly as we approached.

Bingley and I returned the greeting and conversed with the ladies for several minutes.

Before long, others began to join us, and we were gradually drawn into separate conversations.

Bingley accompanied Miss Bennet to speak with her mother whilst I remained where I stood as Mr. Goulding approached, intent on introducing his cousin, a Mr. Price, to the group.

Mr. Price, a rector with a parish near Bath, was visiting family in the area whilst on a brief holiday.

He appeared to be in his mid-thirties and, at first, seemed particularly taken with Miss Elizabeth.

However, she subtly redirected the conversation to include Miss Lucas more frequently, and before long, it was clear that Mr. Price’s attentions had shifted in that direction.

“Nicely done, Miss Elizabeth,” I said quietly to her after several minutes had gone by.

“Whatever do you mean, Mr. Darcy?” she asked, turning her gaze to me, a picture of mock innocence.

“You turned his attention towards your friend very subtly,” I replied, keeping my tone low so our conversation would not be overheard.

She sighed. “Charlotte would make a far better wife for a rector than I ever would,” she admitted.

“If I were in love with the gentleman, it might be different, but Mr. Price is far too transparently seeking a wife for any real affection to develop naturally. I cannot imagine deciding to marry so quickly, and he mentioned he will only be in the area for a fortnight. Charlotte has said before that she would marry for more…” She paused, presumably searching for the right word. “...practical reasons.”

Miss Elizabeth fell quiet again, then sighed more deeply.

“She believes waiting for love is foolish—perhaps even reckless,” she murmured, her voice dropping so low I had to bend closer to hear her.

As I did, a delicate scent drifted towards me, something light and floral, subtle but unmistakable.

Lavender, I thought, or perhaps something even softer, clinging to her hair or woven into her gown.

The fragrance was unexpectedly disarming.

I forced myself to push the thought aside and focused instead on her words, listening closely.

“I have seen what happens when people marry in haste, without truly considering whether they are well matched. Love is important, yes, but I also believe one should respect the person they choose to spend their life with. That seems almost as important, if not equally so.”

“You echo my own thoughts, Miss Elizabeth,” I replied, surprising myself.

I had considered the matter before, but I had never said so as openly as I did just now.

It was incomprehensible how I allowed myself to speak so to this lady when I had never done so with anyone else before.

It must be my mother’s influence, I thought ruefully.

However, that did not stop me from continuing. “I have seen too many marriages formed for reasons other than affection, and in most, both partners seem miserable. I could never wish to find myself trapped in such a union.”

Miss Elizabeth nodded, and I found myself surprised—yet again—by how naturally our conversation had drifted in this particular direction. Although the subject was not unwelcome, it did give me pause, and I resolved to steer us in another direction.

“I believe you mentioned you intended to visit some of the Longbourn tenants this afternoon,” I said as a way to shift the topic of conversation.

“Is there anything in particular Bingley ought to be aware of at Netherfield? We have not yet made any visits, although it is something I mean to speak to him about. Bingley will need to speak to the steward as well to ask him what he thinks.”

Miss Lucas, having overheard the question, joined the conversation with interest, and the two ladies spoke at length about the tenants at Netherfield.

I learnt, to my surprise, that, in the absence of a resident landlord or long-term leaseholder, several local families—including the Bennets, the Lucases, and the Gouldings—had made a habit of looking in on the estate’s tenants.

I listened attentively and found myself impressed by their knowledge and observations, which were far more insightful than I had anticipated.

It astonished me. These were not idle remarks or the sort of superficial niceties often offered in polite company—these ladies had truly paid attention to those around them.

Miss Elizabeth, in particular, spoke with quiet authority and genuine care, mentioning a widow with young children, a tenant recovering from illness, and an elderly couple in need of assistance with their roof before winter set in.

Her concern was both practical and compassionate, and I could not help but admire the capable intelligence behind her words even as I took note of her concerns .

My first impression of her had been that she was lively and impertinent—a refreshing contrast to the artifice I so often encountered in society.

But this...this was something more. Here stood a young woman of sense and substance, observant and remarkably clear-sighted, with an ease of expression that hinted at strong convictions and a generous heart.

I found myself unusually silent, content to listen as the conversation unfolded. For once, I had no wish to interject or steer the topic elsewhere. Instead, I sat back and quietly revised my earlier opinions, aware that what I had assumed to be mere charm was, in fact, depth.

Miss Lucas, I noted, was of a similar temperament—sensible and kind—but it was not she who held my attention.

It was not her voice I found myself drawn to, nor her expressions that lingered in my thoughts.

And it was certainly not her whom my mother—my long-departed mother—had once described as my perfect match.

No, my interest lay wholly elsewhere, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

Dinner was announced then, and Lady Lucas made no attempt at any contrived order of procession.

Mr. Price immediately offered Miss Lucas his arm, and I noticed Mr. Goulding glance towards Miss Elizabeth.

Before he could act, however, I stepped forward and offered her mine, requesting her company at the meal.

“Thank you, Mr. Darcy,” she said with a polite nod. “I feel I must warn you again—should my mother say anything mortifying when she sees you escorting me, you are under no obligation to remain beside me. You are welcome to seek out Mr. Bingley and join him instead.”

“I believe I can endure whatever your mother may say about my partnering with you,” I replied, hoping I sounded gallant rather than as foolish as I felt.

“Bingley will devote himself entirely to your sister, I am certain, and I would far prefer to engage in the sort of conversation we have been enjoying. That said, if you would prefer to sit with someone else, I shall not object. ”

“No, Mr. Darcy,” she said with a smile that warmed me more than I cared to admit. “I, too, have enjoyed our conversations. Let us sit near Charlotte—then you shall have an engaging companion on either side. But first, I must see where my sisters are seated so I can keep an eye on them.”

“Should that not be your mother’s concern?” I asked far too quickly. The words slipped out before I could call them back, and I inwardly winced at my own imprudence. I could only hope I had not offended her.

I slowly let out a breath and glanced towards her, only to find she was doing the same.

“It ought to be,” she replied softly as we made our way into the dining room.

“But unfortunately, it is not. Were my father here, he would most likely laugh at their antics—along with my mother’s.

However, in recent weeks, my sisters and I have begun reading novels together and discussing the heroines—what makes them admirable and what does not.

It occurred to us that our younger sisters had not received the same guidance that Jane and I were fortunate to have from our Grandmother Bennet and our Aunt Gardiner.

So, we have been trying to take up the mantle ourselves and do better by them. ”

“That is admirable, Miss Elizabeth,” I said quietly, and once again, a pang touched my heart. I had always believed I had done my best for Georgiana—but perhaps what she truly needed was a sister who could understand her, guide her, and befriend her in a way I never could.

For the first time, I allowed myself to seriously consider the woman beside me as a potential wife.

The thought settled in my mind with unexpected ease.

And strangely, I felt a quiet sense of approval—as though my mother herself had placed a gentle hand on my shoulder.

The sensation warmed something deep within me, something I had not felt in many years… not since her passing.

I did not realise until much later that Miss Bingley and the Hursts never arrived.