The Impulse of the Moment Read online

  It was doubly amazing, considering this was her first taste of society, according to his friend. He walked along the length of the dance floor, watching as Miss Elizabeth’s graceful form spun along with the other dancers, marveling at the mastery she already displayed of the steps. Georgiana, Darcy’s younger sister, was still but twelve years old, but given her shy nature, Darcy suspected she would not fare so well in her first assembly. Miss Elizabeth seemed as if she was a veteran of ten seasons.

  “Well, Darcy? What do you think now?”

  Darcy turned, noting his friend’s eyes on him twinkling in amusement. When Darcy did not immediately reply, Bingley’s smile grew larger, and he nodded in Miss Elizabeth’s direction.

  “Did I not tell you that she is a delightful girl?”

  “She is tolerable, for a girl just out of the schoolroom,” replied Darcy. For some reason he could not quite understand, he had no desire to concede the truth of Bingley’s words. “Given her age, I suspect it might be better if she spent at least another year preparing herself for society.”

  “If this were London, I might agree with you,” replied Bingley. “But if there is any girl who is ready to be in a society such as this, I declare that girl to be Miss Elizabeth.

  “Look at her!” exclaimed Bingley. “Does she not bewitch them all with her ways? I cannot imagine any man can resist her.”

  “She is lively,” acknowledged Darcy.

  “Then shall I introduce you?”

  The reticent in Darcy did not wish to be introduced at all, especially when he was certain the young woman would likely say ten words for every one of his. The man whose interest was piqued by a sparkling young woman, however, did wish to know her. She was too young, being only sixteen years of age. But that did not prevent a man his age from being known to her. In the end, knowing it would be churlish to refuse, Darcy accepted. Bingley did not seem to understand Darcy’s internal debate; he did nothing more than grin and lead Darcy toward where the girl had been left with her elder sister by the side of the floor at the conclusion of the dance.

  “Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth,” said Bingley with a grin, the return of which spoke to his familiarity and comfort with these ladies, “my friend has indicated a desire to be introduced to Miss Elizabeth.”

  While Miss Bennet, true to character nodded in her calm fashion, it seemed to Darcy that Miss Elizabeth found his application irresistibly hilarious, for her grin was as bright as the sun. The ladies acquiesced and Bingley performed the office.

  “I am happy to make your acquaintance, sir,” said Miss Elizabeth, wasting no time in raising her voice to teasing. “You have a firm friend in Mr. Bingley. He can rarely speak a full sentence without injecting your name into the conversation.”

  Bingley, predictably, laughed at her sally. “I do not speak of my friend that much, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Perhaps not. But sometimes it seems you do.”

  “I understand this is your first taste of society, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, more due to the lack of anything intelligent to say.

  “My first taste of dancing, yes,” replied she. “But I have often attended parties and dinners. Do you enjoy society, Mr. Darcy?”

  “With the right inducement,” Darcy found himself saying.

  Bingley laughed, but Miss Elizabeth tilted her head to the side, as if trying to puzzle him out. “And what would that be?”

  “Perhaps you should attempt to determine the right inducement, Miss Elizabeth,” said Bingley. “I am sure Darcy himself knows nothing of it.”

  “Is that so, Mr. Darcy?” asked Miss Elizabeth, arching a brow at him.

  “I find myself uncomfortable in the company of those with whom I am not acquainted,” replied Darcy, feeling more than a little foolish. “But I am by no means as bad as Bingley would tell you.”

  The snort with which Bingley made his feelings known spoke to his opinion of the matter, and Darcy found himself becoming more than a little annoyed with his friend. It was akin to what he often felt when his cousin Fitzwilliam turned his teasing on Darcy. Darcy never knew if he would have acted as he did if he remained unprovoked, but in a large part to prove his friend wrong, he addressed Miss Elizabeth.

  “I am pleased to stand up with you if you are willing. Might I have the next dance?”

  “Our father stipulated that she is only to dance with a few close friends,” said Miss Bennet, seeming a little embarrassed. “It was the compromise on which our mother and father agreed to allow Lizzy to attend.”

  “But surely if I vouch for Darcy’s character, it would be acceptable,” protested Bingley. “After all, I am on the list of approved partners for Miss Elizabeth, and I am well acquainted with my friend.”

  Though Miss Bennet appeared dubious, Miss Elizabeth beamed at Bingley and was quick to say: “Then it is settled. I would be happy to accept your hand for a dance, Mr. Darcy!”

  While Miss Bennet’s misgivings were readily apparent, she did not attempt to dissuade her sister. For a moment, Darcy wondered if it was wise to partner her—would a vengeful father, intent upon protecting his children suddenly appear to rebuke him for daring to stand up with his beloved daughter? It seemed Bingley had seen Darcy’s indecision, for he leaned close.

  “Mr. Bennet is usually to be found in the card room, and Mrs. Bennet will not protest.”

  The time for considering the matter was at an end as the strains of the next dance floated over the assembled. Having no other choice, Darcy extended his hand, grasping Miss Bennet’s, and leading her to the floor, Bingley and Miss Bennet close by.

  In later years—or even the very next day, as it was—Darcy would be unable to remember of what they spoke, the particulars of the dance, or even what he felt during his time with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. It seemed likely, given the volubility of the young woman’s never-ending stream of words, that Darcy said little. A short time in her company suggested that nervousness prompted her constant stream of commentary, but it was equally possible that she was simply this talkative at all times. Either way, Darcy found himself utterly charmed by her manner, for she was lively and intelligent, and at sundry times in their dance, her observations of her friends, Bingley, and even herself, were rather droll.

  At the end of the dance, Darcy delivered her to the side of the floor where her sister joined her, thanked her for the dance and walked away. He felt, rather than saw, her eyes upon him as he did so and wondered if she had been affected as much as he had himself.

  And so, the evening continued. Darcy noted that Miss Elizabeth danced a few more times, though seemingly not so many as she might have liked. For his own part, Darcy decided he had done enough to acquit himself that evening, having danced with the Bennet sister, and was content to watch the rest of the evening. If his eyes strayed more to the young woman’s person than any other part of the room, Darcy decided it was best not to examine his behavior too closely.

  That, of course, turned out to be his undoing. For Miss Elizabeth, seeing him standing by the side of the floor, seemed to take it into her head that he should stand up again with other ladies of the company.

  “This is an assembly, Mr. Darcy,” said she on more than one occasion. “As a man, it is your duty to ask a woman to dance, for she may not do so without an invitation from a gentleman.”

  “I have no further interest in dancing, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. “I am quite content where I am.”

  “But it is silly for you to stand about in this manner!” cried she. “You had much better dance.”

  “Am I mistaken,” said Darcy, turning an exasperated look on her, “or have you not danced your fill tonight?”

  “That is hardly the point, Mr. Darcy,” said she, disapproval evident in her tone.

  “That is exactly the point,” countered Darcy. “I am not inclined to dance at the best of times. I have done my duty by you and your sister and am content to watch the rest of the evening.”

  “But,
Mr. Darcy—”

  “That is enough, Miss Elizabeth. I have no more intention to dance this evening.”

  A huff escaped the young woman’s lips. “I have no notion of why you are so unsociable. It is gentlemanly to ask young ladies to dance, is it not?”

  “Leave me be!”

  Miss Elizabeth shrugged and turned to stalk away. Soon, she was in the company of the young lady she had attempted to induce Darcy to dance with, and by the way they were giggling and looking at him, Darcy surmised that he himself was the subject of their conversation. Darcy continued to watch her, but while she had spoken to him with ease earlier in the evening, now her manner was distant, and she avoided him. And while Darcy was annoyed with her at first, thinking she had been the one to importune him, he soon realized that he had been short with her. It was, indeed, ungentlemanly conduct.

  The evening was nearing a close when Darcy saw his chance to speak with her again. He had been watching her stand beside the dance floor for some moments, and suddenly she was not there any longer. Surmising that she had stepped out onto a balcony, Darcy made his way to the location he had last seen her and stepped out through a small exit into the darkness beyond.

  The light was dim as there was only a sliver of a moon that night. Beyond the hall, the balcony looked out over a waving field of grain on the edge of the town. Darcy waited for a few moments while his eyes adjusted, noting the slender figure of Miss Elizabeth stood by the balustrade, looking out onto the gloomy night. When he thought he could walk without running into her, Darcy stepped forward, calling her name softly.

  At the first sound of his voice, she let out a little cry and spun about, her hand rising to cover her breast. When she saw it was he, she directed a heated glare at him and drew herself up to her full diminutive height.

  “Have you never been taught that it is dangerous to be alone with a young woman?

  If we are discovered, it could be the ruin of my reputation.”

  “No one saw me leave the room, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy.

  “You do not know that, sir!” exclaimed she. “I must insist you return to the assembly room.”

  “First, I wish to apologize.”

  “I care nothing for your apologies!” exclaimed she. “There is a real possibility of compromise.”

  “Will you not simply be silent for a moment, so I can say my piece and return?” demanded Darcy, becoming cross with her once again.

  “It is not necessary,” said Miss Elizabeth. “Leave at once!”

  “Are you always this infuriating? Can you not be silent for even a moment?”

  The two combatants stood stock still and glared at each other for one long moment. Then the fateful words spilled out of Miss Elizabeth’s mouth.

  “Perhaps I might, but it is better than being silent at all times, is it not? Or perhaps you prefer to stalk stupidly about the dance hall all evening, looking down on all and sundry like the Prince Regent himself. Or it may simply be—”

  Whatever she was about to say would forever remain unsaid. Darcy, desperate to silence her, acted on impulse and without thought. He leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips.

  Miss Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and she looked up at him in shock. For perhaps the first time that evening, she said nothing, though her mouth worked with the words which were begging to be released. But they were not.

  Then, just when Darcy thought to speak to explain himself, or maybe just to apologize, Miss Elizabeth darted around him, fleeing through the doors at his back. And Darcy was left by himself, wondering what had just happened.

  Chapter I

  July 1811

  A splash of color flashed through the foliage. Elizabeth stopped, standing stock still, senses alert for any further indication her solitude was to be interrupted.

  The trill of a bird called loudly overhead, and while Elizabeth might normally have looked toward it, marveling in the joyous release of happiness, the needs of the moment took precedence. Her aunt and uncle were somewhere on the other side of the line of trees and shrubbery where Elizabeth now walked, but the color she had seen did not seem to be the color of her uncle’s coat.

  Carefully, unwilling to be seen, Elizabeth edged her way forward, eyes alert for any sign of what she had seen, ears open to any sounds to disturb the air. A breath of wind fluttered against her cheek, blowing a few loose hairs back to tickle her ear. Impatiently, Elizabeth pushed them away, careful to make the movement slow and unobtrusive.

  There! The sound of voices caught her attention, drawing her forward, still careful to keep the hedges between her and the source of the sound. Through a hole in the greenery, the image of a couple, her aunt and uncle, came into sight. They were speaking with a man, tall and forbidding. The man turned slightly, his profile visible to Elizabeth’s gaze.

  He had come. The heir of Pemberley had returned to his home.

  Elizabeth had known all along that it was foolhardy to visit Pemberley. The name, long known to her, brought in its wake memories she wished to forget. Memories she could not banish.

  The years since his coming to Hertfordshire had been hard in some respects. While Elizabeth had found her courage in those years to face society with her head held high, the sibilant whispering in her ear spoke to her own humiliation and ruin. What else could it be? Though she had not known it as a happy and carefree girl of sixteen, she now well knew that a woman was subject to the whims of men. Even all the care in the world—which she had certainly never exercised when she had yet been innocent—might not be enough to protect her from the depredations of rakes of the world. In all, Elizabeth was still a happy woman, and she did not think to excess of what had happened. But in the night, in dreams, she relived it time and again, and the memory never truly left her.

  The loss of her mother to a sudden illness had provided a new crisis on which to focus, a family of six reduced to five in the blink of an eye. Mrs. Bennet had been a flighty woman, one not born to her married status of a gentlewoman. Though she had embarrassed them all on occasion, they had all loved her and mourned her loss. With two other sisters and a brother to commiserate, Elizabeth had endured the loss of a mother, emerging from the trial sadder, but with a more hopeful demeanor.

  The Bennet family had not long emerged from their mourning when the journey to the north had been proposed, and while all had been invited, only Elizabeth had ultimately agreed to go. For others, there were valid reasons to remain in Hertfordshire. For Elizabeth, there was every reason to be gone for a time.

  “We had thought to go next year,” said Aunt Gardiner when the amusement had been proposed during Elizabeth’s visit in the spring. “But your uncle’s business has been very prosperous this past year, and I have determined he requires a holiday away from the concerns of business.”

  “It is good that uncle has a wife such as you,” replied Elizabeth, “who knows when to insist he take a break.”

  The two ladies laughed together. “It is, indeed!”

  “Where do you think your travels will take you?”

  “The lakes are our ultimate destination. But in our journeys, I hope we shall take in the Peaks and have a little time to spend in Derbyshire.”

  The sound of that man’s home county cast a shadow over Elizabeth’s soul, but she did not allow anything to show in her countenance. “Is there anywhere in particular you wish to visit in Derbyshire?”

  “You well know I spent many years in the town of Lambton in my youth,” said Mrs. Gardiner. “My father was the rector there, and I remember it with great fondness. But you have heard me speak of it enough times that I should think you weary of it by now!”

  Elizabeth laughed, and the subject turned to the delights in which her aunt expected to partake. For Elizabeth’s part, she chided herself, thinking there was little reason to fear entering his county. The fates could not be so unkind as to impose upon her the coincidence of meeting a man she never wished to see again, could they?


  It seemed they could. For when they arrived at Lambton on their way north, it had not been fifteen minutes later that Elizabeth heard the name. Pemberley. The great estate of the Darcy family was situated fewer than five miles from the borders of Lambton, and while the estates of the neighborhood contributed to that town’s livelihood, Pemberley was spoken of with all the mystique of a mythical fairy kingdom.

  “Are the family at home for the summer?” Elizabeth had asked a maid, feigning a sort of disinterested ennui, though inside she was all aflutter for the answer.

  “No, Mum,” was the blissful reply. “They were at home earlier in the year but have since departed for the residence of the Earl of Matlock. Lady Anne Darcy is sister to the earl.”

  “And is the earl’s estate far distant?”

  “Perhaps some thirty miles,” was the reply. “Snowlock is on the southern border of Derbyshire.”

  Entirely too near, Elizabeth thought to herself. She comforted herself with the thought that they were not to stay in Lambton long—no more than three or four days, according to her aunt. There were several ladies who lived in the area with whom her aunt had lost contact, and much of the business of the visit was to re-establish those ties, as much as it was to explore a small market town.

  Then disaster struck.

  “You wish to see Pemberley?” asked Elizabeth, unable to fathom how the fates had suddenly turned against her.

  “I do,” replied Mrs. Gardiner. From the lack of response to Elizabeth’s query, she thought she had hidden her discomposure admirably. “I did see it once when I was a girl, and I should like to see it again as an adult.”

  “Must we?” asked Elizabeth, again affecting boredom. “Were the wonders of Blenheim not sufficient to quench your thirst for large and imposing manors?”