Chapter One
Meryton, Hertfordshire
The carriage wheels turned in a steady rhythm along the Hertfordshire lanes, carrying Darcy and Bingley towards the assembly rooms at Meryton. Through the window, Darcy observed the passing hedgerows and modest cottages, their aspect neither particularly charming nor wholly disagreeable—merely what one might expect of the provinces.
"You are unusually quiet this evening," Bingley remarked, his tone carrying that perpetual optimism which Darcy both envied and found occasionally tiresome. "I had thought you might share my enthusiasm. After all, it was your counsel that persuaded me to take Netherfield."
Darcy inclined his head. "The estate suits you admirably, as I believed it would. You required something substantial, yet manageable, and Netherfield provides both. I am gratified that my judgement has proven sound."
"Sound!" Bingley laughed. "How like you to reduce happiness to mere judgement. I am perfectly content here, Darcy. The grounds are excellent, the neighbourhood seems amiable, and tonight I shall make the acquaintance of every family of consequence within three miles. What more could a man desire?"
"What more, indeed. Though I confess my presence tonight serves purposes beyond social obligation to you, however valued that obligation may be."
His friend's expression grew knowing. "Ah, yes, Miss Cassandra Rochford. Lady Catherine's recommendation, if I recall correctly?"
"My aunt believes her eminently suitable." Darcy adjusted the collar of his shirt with deliberate care. "Miss Rochford is the daughter of Viscount Welles. The family's reputation is unimpeachable, and their connections are extensive. Lady Catherine and Mrs Rochford have been intimate friends for twenty years."
"And the lady herself? What manner of woman is she?"
"I have not yet had the pleasure of making her acquaintance. Our correspondence has been brief but cordial. She writes with appropriate refinement and has assured me she means to attend this evening's assembly."
"You speak as though you were negotiating a business arrangement rather than a courtship."
"Is not marriage, for men in our position, precisely that?" Darcy's tone remained even. "One must be rational about such matters. Affection may develop in time, but compatibility of station and fortune provides the foundation."
"How very pragmatic of you." Bingley's amusement was evident. "Though I confess I harbour hopes of something rather more romantic for myself."
"You are a romantic by nature. I am not."
"Perhaps. I suspect some woman shall appear one day and entirely overturn that philosophy of yours. You shall find yourself working quite desperately for her regard, mark my words."
Darcy's mouth curved—not quite a smile, but near enough. "Your imagination exceeds your reason, Bingley. Women of breeding and sense do not inspire desperation. They inspire respect, which is far more durable."
"If you say so." Bingley glanced out the window. "I wonder if the ladies of Hertfordshire differ at all from those in town? One grows rather weary of London drawing rooms."
"Human nature is universal," Darcy replied. "You may find minor variations in bearing or conversation, but the essential concerns remain unchanged—fortune, connections, marital prospects. Gentlemen of our circumstances rarely encounter difficulty in securing female attention."
"What a cheerful assessment." Bingley's laugh filled the enclosed space. "I suppose you are correct, though it removes rather a lot of the intrigue, does it not?"
The carriage slowed as they neared the assembly rooms. Through the windows, Darcy could see the glow of candles and the movement of figures within. Music drifted faintly on the evening air, distinct and competently performed.
"Georgiana would have enjoyed this," Bingley noted. "She does so love assemblies."
"She is better situated in Ireland with Lord and Lady Matlock," Darcy said. "The change of scene will do her good. She has been too much confined to Pemberley of late."
"You miss her."
"I am accustomed to her absence when necessity demands it." Darcy's voice held no sentiment, though Bingley, who knew him well, might have detected the faint softening beneath. "She shall return in a few months, and I shall be madeto endure her chatter about Irish landscapes and the superiority of Dublin assemblies over London balls."
Bingley grinned as the carriage came to a halt. "Then let us make the most of your temporary freedom. Come, Darcy—into battle."
"Hardly a battle."
"No? We shall see."
***
The assembly rooms were crowded and vibrant with the hum of provincial society at leisure. Darcy's entrance, alongside Bingley, drew immediate notice—two gentlemen of evident wealth and consequence were not common visitors to Meryton. He bore the scrutiny with practised indifference, his expression neutral as introductions commenced.
