Whoever Lives in Love Release Celebration

Hello!

Today, I’m celebrating the release of my latest novel, Whoever Lives in Love, by sharing an excerpt with you. I posted about it earlier this month too. You can find that post here, if you missed it. On to Chapter 1, which takes us away from the shock of the prologue to our dear couple’s first meeting, which happens in the summer rather than autumn.

Chapter 1

July 1811

Fitzwilliam Darcy suppressed a sigh of resignation. If he had been keeping count, he supposed he would be up to a hundred or more sighs since this evening’s entertainment—if it could be called such—had begun. Attending a country assembly would never be agreeable to him, but Bingley had been determined to come, and, in an effort to be a good friend, Darcy had joined him and his family. They had only arrived in Hertfordshire the previous afternoon, and Bingley claimed it would be an excellent opportunity to meet his new neighbours. While true, Darcy would much prefer greeting people somewhere less crowded and noisy. With Bingley deciding to lease the estate at midsummer—rather than waiting until Michaelmas as had been his original intention—Darcy had envisioned attending picnics and garden parties, not assemblies.

It was oppressively hot, and Darcy was desperately trying to keep from pulling at his neckcloth and overlook the bead of sweat that had just rolled down his back. Standing by a small window, he observed the lines of dancers awaiting the start of the next set. Who had decided it was a good idea to have a ball in early July—especially in a room without sufficient windows or doors to throw open to let in the refreshing evening breeze?

Darcy was glad to realise there were likely only two or three sets remaining. Bingley stood opposite a beautiful young lady, Miss Bennet, with whom he had danced already. Earlier, he had observed the lady introducing Bingley to a number of people. There were times Darcy envied his friend’s easy manners, which were in great contrast to his own. The other members of their party—Bingley’s two sisters and brother-in-law—were also amongst the dancers. Glancing towards the musicians, Darcy wondered why they had not yet begun to play. The sooner they begin, the sooner the set will be over, and the sooner I shall escape this room. If I knew the way, I would be tempted to walk back to Netherfield just to partake of the fresh air!

A few moments after the dance began, Bingley noticed him. He said something to Miss Bennet, then stepped away from her and towards him.

“Come, Darcy, I must have you dance!” Bingley said. “I have never had such a jolly time, and everyone is extremely pleasant—especially the young ladies.” He looked over his shoulder, no doubt at Miss Bennet.

“I am perfectly content as I am,” Darcy said. “You know how I detest dancing, and at an assembly such as this—”

Bingley made a dismissive noise. “I shall not hear it. One of Miss Bennet’s sisters is sitting down just behind you. I can ask my partner to introduce you.”

“Which do you mean? Frankly, I am in no humour to give consequence to young ladies who are—” Darcy glanced towards the spot Bingley had indicated to see which girl he meant, and the words he had intended to say stuck in his throat. He recognised her at once, her warm brown hair, fair skin, and tall, slim figure having made an impression on him earlier. He was certain that her eyes if not her chin were pointed in his direction, and she was close enough to hear his exchange with Bingley. He believed he saw her lips twitching in amusement, and her brow was lifted in what appeared to be daring, which set off a spark of intrigue in his chest.

Had he really been about to insult her, to say that there was not a girl in the room handsome enough to tempt him to dance? To say that she had been slighted by other men, when—if she had been—it would only indicate that every man in the room was a blind fool?

Darcy swallowed heavily. “Very well.”

In a moment it was done, and Darcy was alone with Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She stood before him, her expression calm and lips turned up in a polite smile. Her dark eyes shone with merriment, and she remained silent, apparently waiting for him to speak.

Lightly clearing his throat to cover his discomfort, he said, “Will you do me the honour of dancing this set?”

Her smile widened, showing a neat row of white teeth. “I would be glad to. Thank you, sir.”

They took a place amongst the dancers, and for a short while, Darcy was content to study her. While her elder sister would be considered the more beautiful, Miss Elizabeth had something more that went beyond her physical charms—which were undeniable—and that he felt made her especially interesting. Even in the dim light of the assembly room, her eyes were enthralling, and something in her demeanour suggested good humour and quick wit, although he would have to know her better to understand what it was. She was light on her feet, and he would be surprised if she was not fond of exercise, especially in the open air, given the dusting of freckles on her nose and cheeks.

It occurred to him that he had heard little of her voice, really only the few words she had said when accepting his invitation to dance, and he wanted more; it would add to the portrait of her he was constructing. Despite seeking something interesting to say, the best he could do was, “This is a pleasant assembly.”

She bit her lips together and did not reply for a moment as the dance briefly separated them. “Do you think so?” she said, her brow arched as it had been earlier. “I would not have guessed it.”

Her tone made it seem that her remark was innocent, but there was a purpose to it he could not discern. “Why, if I may ask?”

Miss Elizabeth chuckled. “Sir, whatever faults I possess, they have nothing to do with my vision. Your behaviour has made it plain that you do not want to be here. I assume you are used to far more fashionable affairs and people.”

Darcy regarded her, feeling even more fascinated and—astonishingly—not at all insulted. That he attributed to the brightness of her eyes—which were truly remarkable—and soft yet rich voice. “Are you laughing at me? I had the impression you were earlier, when you were listening to my conversation with Bingley.”

“You were standing so close to me, I could hardly avoid hearing you,” she retorted playfully. “To answer your question, yes, I suppose I was. I do like to laugh whenever possible. I leave it to you to decide if my reasons tonight are strong enough to justify my actions or if I have been unconscionably rude. If the latter, I shall apologise.”

The pattern caused a short delay before she could continue; he greedily grabbed the opportunity to watch her as she exchanged a few words with the middle-aged couple who stood beside them.

“I suppose I could be disgusted, angry even, at how dismissively you have treated everyone,” she said. “You might have a very good reason for some of the behaviour I observed—refusing introductions, not speaking to a single person outside of your own party, and looking as though you wish you were anywhere else. Goodness, how my mother would scold me if she knew what I had just said! Pray, forgive me.” Her cheeks turned from a delightful pink to embarrassed red.

Darcy required a moment to reflect and avoid replying in anger. Before he knew what to say, she spoke, her tone conciliatory. “I am sorry. I often, too often, do not guard my tongue—”

“What have you said that I did not deserve?” he interjected. “I have no good excuse, other than a general dislike of large gatherings when I am not familiar with most of those present.”

“And the room is too hot, you have only just arrived in the neighbourhood, and everyone has been speculating about you and your friends.”

He shrugged, and when she laughed, he very nearly smiled.

“Now is not the time for me to decide whether all of that constitutes a sufficient excuse,” she said. “I think it does, though, if only because I choose to find humour in the situation and, even more importantly, you were wise enough to rethink your intended response to Mr Bingley and instead asked me to dance.”

Darcy gave into his desire to smile. “I am very glad I did. If I vow to remember to be more polite, whatever discomfort I am feeling, will you forgive my earlier behaviour?” He had been rude and inconsiderate, not in the least concerned with what people thought of him. While he suspected his position in life was far above that of anyone else at the assembly, did that give him the right to consider them his inferiors? If so, why did he not treat Bingley and his family in a similar manner, given his own superior wealth, birth, and connexions?

They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, Darcy finding it impossible to avert his gaze. Was it possible that she had captured his interest so easily—indeed, without even trying, for he was convinced she was not purposely flirting with him? He brushed the thought aside; if he found himself drawn to her during future encounters, he would decide then what to do then. If I have any sense whatsoever, I will go to Pemberley and avoid seeing her. She was not the sort of lady he should allow himself to become infatuated with. And yet, being with her felt oddly right, even though it had only been a few minutes.

Her voice softer than it had been, she said, “You have no need to apologise to me. Shall we consider the entire matter forgotten and talk of something more amusing?”

Completely charmed by her, he agreed at once, and for the rest of the set, they spoke of themselves and their families. The conversation continued into the interval. She led him to a short passageway where there was a larger window than the one he had found earlier. It was opened wide, and they shared the space—and much appreciated breeze—with a handful of other people who, fortunately, left him and Miss Elizabeth to their own conversation.

“You were asking about my home when the dance ended,” she said. “I live at Longbourn, which is about three miles from Netherfield Park. It is not nearly as large as Netherfield, but it is the next largest in the neighbourhood, and the house is considerably older. I overheard Mrs Hurst telling my mother that you are from Derbyshire.”

He nodded. “My estate is called Pemberley. I would usually be there at this time of year, but Bingley asked me to join him here, lend him the benefit of my experience and training. My late father prepared me to manage an estate, whereas Bingley’s father did not. He doubts his capabilities more than I think he should, but…”

“But you are a good friend and will do what you can to ease his anxieties.”

His cheeks warmed. “I hope he sees me as one. I know that he would always help me if I was in need, and I seek to do the same for him.”

They spent a few minutes chatting with others, and, as people were gathering for the final set of the evening, he said, “I have learnt my lesson and would like to ask another lady to dance. Whom do you recommend?” In truth, he would be very glad to dance with her again, but he knew he could not.

She smiled approvingly and led the way to where they could more readily see who might be without a partner. “I might propose my sister Mary, but I believe you would find Charlotte Lucas more agreeable company. She is sensible and easy to speak to, whereas Mary is likely to be nervous and consequently attempt to impress you rather than simply enjoy herself and ensure you do the same.”

“I shall be guided by you, as I am convinced you will not lead me astray.”

Once again, she laughed. “Be careful, sir, I might be tempted to take that for flattery. Come, let me introduce you to my friend.”

Miss Lucas was pleasant company, but she was nothing to Miss Elizabeth. He had no further opportunity to speak to her, but thoughts of her distracted him as he and his friends made their way back to Netherfield and for some time after. How much he anticipated seeing her again! With luck, he would before many days had passed.

Whoever Lives in Love is available through Amazon (e-book and paperback) and Kindle Unlimited. Thanks for reading and have a good weekend!