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ONLY A HEARTBEAT AWAY

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CHAPTER 1

THE MORNING AFTER

HERTFORDSHIRE, SEPTEMBER 1812

The Bennet family sat around the breakfast table the morning after the Meryton assembly. All the ladies who had been in attendance were filled with exuberance as they extolled the events of the evening before. Elizabeth, the second eldest of five daughters, had suffered a sprained ankle the morning of the assembly and had been unable to accompany her sisters. Thus, she was resigned to a vicarious retelling of every single escapade, much to the delight of everyone, save her poor father.

Public assemblies, private balls—they were pretty much the same to the females of Longbourn Village: both afforded such expectations of merriment, from the planning of which dress to wear to the speculation on who would be there. Then, of course, there was the high-spiritedness of the event itself. The anticipation of this particular assembly was intoxicating, for the entire town was excited over the prospect of meeting the newest neighbour, a Mr. Charles Bingley, who had recently let Netherfield Park. A single man in possession of a good fortune meant but one thing to all the mothers with unattached daughters: the gentleman was in desperate want of a wife.

Mrs. Bennet barely contained her enthusiasm. “Oh, Mr. Bennet! We had such a delightful evening! I wish you had been there. And you too, Lizzy. Jane was so admired, nothing could be like it. Everybody said how well she looked. Mr. Bingley thought her quite beautiful, and he danced with her twice! Only think of that, my dear. He actually danced with her twice, and she was the only creature in the room that he asked a second time.”

An exhaustive accounting of Mr. Bingley’s dance partners ensued, sorely challenging Mr. Bennet’s patience. “If he had any compassion for me, he would not have danced half so much! For God’s sake, say no more of his partners. Oh, that he had sprained his ankle in the first dance!” Remembering the reason for his favourite daughter’s lack of enthusiasm in comparison with the others, he glanced at her. “You will forgive me, my dear Lizzy. I would have been quite pleased to have you stand opposite the agreeable Mr. Bingley as well.”

Feeling Jane’s pleasure, Elizabeth could not resist smiling. “Dearest Jane, I would have enjoyed seeing you so agreeably engaged with Mr. Bingley.”

Her youngest sister, Lydia, said, “Mr. Bingley danced with me too!” She snorted. “He stared at me too.”

Not to be outdone, Elizabeth’s next youngest sister, Kitty, said, “He danced with all of us—save Mary. I am sure he would have danced with you too, Lizzy.”

Mary, the middle child of a rather bookish constitution, adjusted her spectacles. “I think dancing is much exaggerated. I heard myself referred to by Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood. I am apt to consider false modesty less than virtuous; however, I do believe mine was the greatest compliment.”

Mrs. Bennet smiled falsely at Mary before resuming her praise of the amiable Mr. Bingley. “Oh, Mr. Bennet! I am quite delighted with him. He is so excessively handsome! And his sisters are charming women. I never in my life saw anything more elegant than their dresses. I dare say the lace upon Mrs. Hurst’s gown⁠—”

Mr. Bennet interrupted her again; this time with fierce protests against any description of finery. Compelled to seek another branch of the subject, his wife related the shocking rudeness of one of the other esteemed guests, Mr. Bingley’s friend, Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth’s smile became a puzzled grimace. “Excuse me, Mama. Did I correctly hear you say Mr. Bingley’s friend is a Mr. Darcy? Would this be Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire?”

Her mother looked at her with thinly disguised dismay. “Yes, but not a single one of us cares. The proud man walked here and there and fancied himself quite above his company. He is not someone you would have admired, Lizzy. There were many young ladies without dance partners, but it mattered not one bit to Mr. Darcy. You suffered no loss in not seeing him. I quite detest the man even if he does have ten thousand a year and is purported to own half of Derbyshire. I can assure you he owns the miserable half.”

Can this be the older brother of the dear sweet young woman whom I have grown so fond of over these past months?

Her recent trip to Derbyshire with her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner from London was such a joyful excursion. They had visited many fine estates, including Pemberley. The grounds and the house were remarkable. Elizabeth had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. She recalled thinking at that moment that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!

Escaping her relatives for a few moments of quiet solitude amongst the majesty of the grand estate had been paramount. Walking along one of the splendid paths, she had espied an angelic young woman sitting alone and painting a picture of the open meadow. Fair-haired, with a fine complexion and bright eyes, her welcoming smile encouraged Elizabeth to approach her. Elizabeth admired the painting and complimented the excellent choice of colours and lighting. A week after Elizabeth returned to Hertfordshire, she received the painting by express. Elizabeth, in turn, sent Miss Darcy a small parcel containing one of her favourite books. Thus, their mutual correspondence ensued, and a steady friendship was born. Though Elizabeth had not met the master of the estate during her visit, she recalled spending quite a bit of time admiring his likeness in the art gallery. What a handsome man he was. By the housekeeper’s account, he is the best man in the world—a generous master of excellent disposition.

Of course, she had said those who did not know him might think he was proud. Perhaps my mother merely misunderstood his character.

Mrs. Bennet complained of Mr. Darcy’s inattention to her daughters, how he would dance with no one other than the members of his own party, and how he had refused to converse with Mrs. Long despite sitting close to her for half-an-hour. When her mother could speak no more on her distaste for the unpleasant man, she directed her attention to her daughter Kitty and prevailed upon her to pass the platter of meats.

Jane placed her hand upon Elizabeth’s. “Oh, Lizzy! Is it not a strange coincidence that your friend’s brother should find himself in Hertfordshire of all places? Though, I think it odd that Miss Darcy would not have mentioned his plans to visit in her frequent letters.”

“I cannot account for her omission except to say she does not often write of her brother’s comings and goings, especially since she does not reside with him, save her visits to Pemberley during the summer. Besides, his being a complete stranger to me, she may not even be aware that he and I are in proximity.”

“Yes. I suppose that is it.”

Mrs. Bennet quickly reclaimed her share of the conversation. “Now that you mention it, Lizzy, I do recollect hearing you speak of young Miss Darcy a time or two.” The older woman, who had known what it was like to be much admired for her beauty, if not her wit, shrugged. “Not that it will do you any good in knowing the sister, for I fear the brother is much too enamoured of himself to give notice to you. How he can be the kind and amiable Mr. Bingley’s friend is a mystery to me.”

Mrs. Bennet raised her porcelain cup to her lips and then set it down after taking a sip. “I shall be delighted to entertain Mr. Bingley for dinner, but not his friend. He is the last man in the world I should wish to see ever again.”

Later, when Jane and Elizabeth were alone, the former, who had been cautious in her praise of Mr. Bingley before, expressed to her sister how much she admired him.

“Mr. Bingley is everything a young gentleman ought to be. He is sensible, lively, and good-humoured. I never saw such happy manners.”

Elizabeth was inclined to agree with her sister’s good opinion of Mr. Bingley, having discerned for herself how handsome he was when she and her sisters had the advantage of seeing him from an upper window a week or so before when he returned their father’s earlier visit to Netherfield. He had worn a blue coat and rode a black horse. The manner of his style of dress and his walk told her all she needed to know about his amiability.