Chapter One

Harriet Darcy slowly made her way down the main Pemberley staircase. Though she had attended quite a few balls before, she felt nervous as she began to descend. In general, she disliked these gatherings, for she always felt more like a horse at an auction rather than a young lady. All the men seemed to watch her, evaluate her, wondering whether or not she would make a suitable wife.

"There you are!" Mrs. Darcy cried, making her way through the guests to see her daughter. "You're late," she whispered into Harriet's ear with a disapproving tone.

Harriet ignored her mother's comment as she surveyed the guests, most of whom had already arrived. She spotted Mr. and Mrs. Collins as well as her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley. Her cousins, Charles and Steven Bingley, were present, but their sister was not. In the far corner stood her father talking to a man she did not recognize. Some grand gentleman, no doubt.

Following her arrival, Harriet was obligated to play her role as hostess and talk with the guests. She did not particularly enjoy it, but made enough of an effort to make a favourable impression.

"The dancing has just commenced," Mrs. Darcy informed her daughter when their paths crossed again later that evening. "And I do believe a certain gentleman has arrived."

Harriet smiled in spite of herself. This certain gentleman went by the name of Mr. Lockwood and was of a very prominent family in Derbyshire. Having just recently inherited his father's estate, the gentleman now found himself in possession of quite a large fortune as well as a great degree of responsibility, rendering him in need of a wife. He seemed to have set his eye on the charming Miss Darcy, of whose family he was in a general acquaintance. While Harriet seemed to be quite oblivious to the fact, her mother's watchful eye saw Mr. Lockwood's motive in his continuing to call on them at Pemberley. Harriet liked him well enough, though it was hard to discern to what degree she returned his affections. Harriet saw no need to define her regards for him, and simply sought him out as a good acquaintance and friendly face at the gatherings she was obliged to attend.

Before hurrying into the ballroom, Harriet quickly smoothed her sky blue silk gown and adjusted the flowers in her chestnut-coloured hair. Once there, her bright blue quickly scanned the room. Instead of finding Mr. Lockwood, she was greeted by Mr. Bingley and a gentleman she did not know.

"Why, hello Harriet!" her uncle warmly exclaimed. He continued by introducing the two strangers. "This is Mr. Kensington, from London. He's looking for a place to let here in Derbyshire. Mr. Kensington, this is my niece, Miss Darcy." Then, as if startled, Mr. Bingley said, "Dear why are you not yet dancing? Certainly you are not to be without a partner! Here, here, Mr. Kensington, I would think it no trouble at all, asking such a fine lady to dance."

"Certainly not," said Mr. Kensington with a cool smile spreading across his face. It made Harriet uncomfortable, and she was feeling rather annoyed at her well-meaning uncle's setup.

Mr. Kensington held out his hand as he asked softly, "Would you allow me the honour of having the first dance?" His gaze was intently fixed on her. Harriet thought she read an arrogance in his eyes, as if he was already sure of her acceptance, and it aggravated her.

"I... I'm afraid that honour has been reserved for someone else," Harriet replied, declining as politely as she could. She was beginning to dislike him more and more, and was becoming impatient for some new company.

Much to Harriet's annoyance, his hand remained outstretched for her taking. "I don't see anyone else near," Mr. Kensington said after a moment, "and I do believe it is quite rude to decline a gentleman's offer." Harriet desperately looked about the room for Mr. Lockwood, or perhaps one of her cousins, with no results. After a slight pause, she reluctantly agreed and slipped her own hand into his. She was surprised at his light grip and quickly submerged her fluttering thoughts with her annoyance at such a forced acceptance.

"How are you enjoying the ball, Miss Darcy?" Mr. Kensington asked after a moment.

"It has been quite dull," she replied. "I have had quite enough of prim ladies who have nothing better to say but discuss when the sun will come out again. Or, worse, those who use the cover of polite party conversation to discover all the latest gossip." Her tone was sharp, and Harriet was startled at her own manner.

Mr. Kensington laughed. "It sounds like I came just in time."

Harriet simply lowered her eyes, returning to her usual self. Her quiet reserve prevented her from saying anything more, and she secretly could not wait until the dance was over. Mr. Kensington followed her cue and did not speak, and the two spent the rest of the dance in silence.

Soon, the last note of the instruments sounded, and with the dance over, Harriet gave a quick curtsey and silently slipped away. Mr. Kensington watched her go, fixated on the petite figure in the blue gown gracefully find her way through the guests, as if she was gliding. While he knew she was unhappy with him, he couldn't help finding himself attracted to the Miss Darcy. Realizing how absurd a notion it was, especially considering her obvious distaste for him, he became determined to meet many more residents of the region present at the ball, thus clearing his head of "that young girl."