Page 5 of Moments Frozen in Time (Pride and Prejudice Variation)
ELIZABETH
D espite the recent arrivals at Netherfield, I expected this evening’s assembly to unfold like so many before it.
Mama had already decided that Mr. Bingley was meant for Jane, though she knew nothing about him beyond the reports of his income and his status as a single man of good fortune.
Although the rumours claimed he would bring a large party of gentlemen and ladies with him from London, I placed little stock in them.
Even if such a party did appear, I doubted they would condescend to dance with the country rustics of Meryton.
When they finally entered—just as the second dance began—I watched with interest. There were five in total: three gentlemen and two ladies.
The first gentleman through the door was tall, likely about Papa’s height, with blond hair that looked charmingly tousled as though he had been running his hands through it.
He wore a wide, eager smile and looked thoroughly pleased to be there.
I stifled a laugh—he reminded me of the spaniel my aunt kept as a pet: friendly, excitable, and eager to please .
On his arm was a young lady, perhaps a little older than Jane and clearly his sister, given the strong family resemblance.
Her hair bore a slight reddish tint—at least, I thought so—though it was mostly hidden beneath a turban of a style we had never seen before in Hertfordshire.
It must have been the latest fashion in London.
Her expression made it clear she did not approve of the company; she surveyed the room with a look of practised disdain, her nose tilting slightly upward as though the air in the assembly room offended her.
Behind them followed another pair, whom I took to be man and wife.
The woman bore a resemblance to the other two and was likely another sibling.
She and her husband were both rather stout and wore matching expressions of mild boredom.
Having taken their measure, I turned my attention to the last member of the party.
That was when I saw him.
He lingered just behind the rest, still partially in shadow.
Tall—taller than the first gentleman by several inches—he wore a perfectly cut black coat and breeches that stood in stark contrast to the crisp whiteness of his shirt and immaculate cravat.
I looked for a black armband, wondering if he might be in mourning, but saw none. He must simply prefer black.
When he stepped forward into the light, I caught my breath.
I had to stifle a reaction—not from laughter this time, but from surprise.
He was, without question, the most handsome man I had ever seen.
His dark hair was perfectly styled as though not a single strand would dare defy the careful work of his valet.
There was something striking about his appearance beyond mere handsomeness.
His features were finely formed, his jaw strong, his nose straight, and his dark eyes sharp and discerning as they swept over the room.
He did not smile, nor did he appear particularly impressed with his surroundings.
In truth, his expression bordered on haughty, though whether from discomfort or disdain, I could not at once decide .
His posture was impeccable as though he carried the weight of his own importance with every step.
He moved with a quiet confidence, his gaze steady, shoulders squared, and chin lifted just enough to give the impression that he was surveying not a modest country gathering but something far beneath his notice.
“He is quite handsome, is he not?” my friend Charlotte Lucas appeared at my elbow, whispering into my ear, having sneaked up on me unawares whilst I was entranced by the gentleman. “That is Mr. Darcy from Pemberley in Derbyshire. Mama says he is reputed to be very wealthy.”
I let out a squeak of surprise, then nodded my agreement. “What of the others?” I asked after a moment.
“The first man is Mr. Charles Bingley, who has taken the lease of Netherfield,” she told me.
“On his arm is his sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, and they are followed by their sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst. Papa met them all the day before yesterday; that is, except for Mr. Darcy, who had not arrived when we called.”
“You went with him?” I asked, turning to look at her.
“Yes,” she replied, her tone clearly resigned.
“It was Papa’s second call at the house, and since he had heard that Miss Bingley was in residence, he thought I could befriend her.
The lady made it clear that I was imposing and that she wants little to do with the residents of our village.
Mr. Bingley admitted that his fortune was left to him by his father earned through his cotton mills somewhere in the north, near York or perhaps Scarborough.
His sister protested the mention of how they had got their wealth. ”
“Ahh,” I said, understanding what my friend was not saying.
Neither of us were able to speak any further, for Sir William had approached the newcomers, and both of our mothers were beckoning us to join them.
I kept my eyes down as I made my way across the room to where my mother stood. Soon, Sir William approached with the visitors in tow and began the introductions.
Although my eyes were cast down, I peered through my lashes to watch the tableau.
Mr. Bingley appeared entranced by Jane, naturally, and asked her to dance the next.
Blushing, Jane agreed, and I could tell that she was affected by the handsome gentleman.
Whether it would turn into something more would remain to be seen, but the two were at least attracted to each other.
As Charlotte had said, the rest of the party were less pleased at the introductions. But it was Mr. Darcy who I watched.
He barely acknowledged the introductions, remaining aloof from the rest. Still, I could not deny that there was something magnetic about him.
He carried himself like a man who expected the world to yield to his presence.
More often than not, I suspected it did.
Still, as I watched him cross the room after some inappropriate comment from my mother, I could not help but wonder what it would take to shake that composure or, better yet, draw a genuine smile from him.
But I quickly pushed the thought aside. I had no reason to suppose he would be any more pleasant than his appearance was impressive. If anything, men so very fine to look at were often insufferable to know.
Therefore, to have won even the slightest sliver of attention from the gentleman had been astonishing.
When his friend first urged him to dance, I was certain he would refuse.
His expression all but confirmed it—he looked on the verge of saying something cutting.
Then, quite suddenly, I heard a whisper in my ear: “Just wait.” I turned instinctively, expecting to find someone beside me, but there was no one there.
I had braced for an insult, certain it was coming, yet something stopped him.
His words, when they came, were unexpectedly civil.
I might have taken offence anyway, but the voice came again—gentler this time, more familiar: Grandmama Bennet , I was almost sure of it, urging me to give the gentleman the benefit of the doubt .
Much to my relief, his answer was far kinder: “As I told you before we left, I have little intention of dancing tonight. Perhaps you might introduce me, and I will speak with the young lady whilst you finish your set with her sister. She may have a reason to wish to avoid the crush as well.”
Once the introduction was complete, we had spent the rest of that dance talking to each other. It had been nothing of great importance at first, then I had shocked myself by admitting to the gentleman that I would only marry for love.
To say that I had been shocked by his eventually asking me to dance was an understatement. More so when I realised that he had also asked Jane and Charlotte, but I caught his expression when he realised he would have my last set. He appeared…pleased.
We spent the rest of the evening in each other’s company.
He remained where he was unless he was dancing with one of my friends, and he allowed me to introduce him to several of the local gentlemen.
I quickly deduced that, although he was somewhat haughty, much of his unwillingness to dance had been due to his shyness in company.
This evening had allowed me a brief glimpse into the real man, one that I believe he usually kept firmly hidden behind a mask. He intrigued me.
I barely spoke on the return journey home.
As usual, the carriage was loud with my younger sisters speaking wildly about dancing and beaux .
They were most pleased that they had never been required to sit out, completely unaware of that pact made by several of the older ladies to deliberately sit out a dance or two each evening to allow the younger girls the opportunity.
Likewise, Jane said little, and I knew from experience that she would share more once we were in the privacy of our shared suite.
Our rooms were connected by a little sitting room where all five of us sometimes gathered, although far less frequently now.
Since Lydia had been allowed to come out just after her fifteenth birthday a few months ago, my two youngest sisters spent more time on their own and less time with their older sisters.