Excerpt
This excerpt is in Darcy’s point of view and takes place at Netherfield Park:
Five feet from the office door, a sound halted Darcy’s movement. The musical tones—unexpected and out of place—disrupted his serenity. A woman’s laugh, sweet and melodious, penetrated the closed door. Another man—Bingley, for example—might describe the pleasant sound as the laughter of an angel. But Darcy had lived in the world several years longer than his friend had. In his experience, voices often did not match the people to whom they belonged. Many a stout, old dowager retained the light, silvery tones of a young girl.
Bingley appeared at his side, his forehead crimped. “Is aught amiss?”
He shook his head and rocked back on his heels. It was naught but a laugh—no doubt that of a middle-aged housekeeper. “Not at all. I was waiting for you.”
His friend accepted Darcy’s answer as befitted the younger man’s nature. They stepped forward, and Bingley knocked on the door.
The door opened to reveal a gray-haired man, rather well dressed for a steward, who peered through his spectacles at them. “May I be of service, gentlemen?”
“Yes, indeed. You must be Mr. Stone. We, um, or I anyway, have an appointment to meet with you today.” A cheerful tone pervaded Bingley’s response.
“I am afraid Mr. Stone could not attend this meeting due to his wife’s delicate condition. He is expected to become a father today and wished to remain at home. I agreed to meet with you in his stead to show you the house and answer your questions as best I can. I have a degree of familiarity with the property. My name is Bennet, and I own the neighbouring estate to the south, Longbourn.”
A warm smile overspread Bingley’s face. “I am delighted to make the acquaintance of a neighbour. It is most generous of you to meet with me. My name is Bingley, and this is my good friend, Mr. Darcy. He has accompanied me to lend his expertise today. His estate, Pemberley, is one of the largest in all of Derbyshire.”
Darcy mashed his lips together to suppress a sigh. Mr. Bennet may have denoted him as a gentleman of means from his attire—might even have recognized his name—but his friend’s well-meaning commentary advertised his status in a way that left little doubt of his wealth. Bingley could only have done worse by blurting Darcy’s yearly income, a frequent topic of speculation in London. He tensed in anticipation of the usual response to such tidings: the increased show of interest and deference toward him—often to the point of ignoring Bingley altogether—an all too common occurrence in town.
An astute glint shone in Mr. Bennet’s eyes. “It is a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen.” He beckoned them inside and reached his hand out to someone waiting within. “Lizzy, come meet our prospective neighbour and his friend.”
The lady who appeared beside the older gentleman bore no resemblance to a housekeeper. She had to be the gentleman’s daughter. At first glance, the lady presented a pleasing, yet unremarkable, appearance—well, except for her eyes. Those exquisite orbs of greenish-chestnut, so singular and compelling, seized his notice. She must have been a few years older than Georgiana and rather shorter, though not too short. Her figure, light and pleasing, possessed an uncommon grace that drew his eyes to her every movement. Her smile, neither practiced nor affected, appeared natural and easy—no doubt, a frequent display. Her posture and facial expression conveyed an amicable curiosity towards them, but—he had to admit—none of the avidity and avarice he met with in most social situations. In fact, neither father nor daughter, thus far, offered him more notice than Bingley—a rare circumstance.
After Mr. Bennet made the introductions, Miss Bennet engaged Bingley in conversation, inquiring about the neighbourhood where he grew up. Darcy never ceased to marvel at people like her—or like Bingley for that matter. How did they summon up such apparent genuine interest in strangers, appearing natural and at ease in the exact situations that most discomfited him? Mr. Bennet observed his daughter and Bingley with a slight smile. The gentleman seemed to share his daughter’s appreciation and interest in other people but projected a more seasoned, laconic, and cynical perspective.
