A/N: (8/16/16 – Updated to make minor revisions for word usage and the like.)

I have really struggled with this chapter. I'm still finding my voice and getting to know these characters and how best to portray them to you, my readers. I'm still not sure I've got it quite right, but here it is nonetheless. I needed to give us a quick peek at Mr. Darcy before we move on to the following day and that fateful walk into Meryton. In related news, my muse got lost in the woods this past weekend, and I've still got mountain rescue out looking for her. Thankfully she was kind enough to give me an overall direction for where this story is going this along with some major events that need to take place to get us there before traipsing off on her own. Still lots of details to work out, but I feel more comfortable with the framework now. I have not responded to all of the reviews from Chapter Two, but I will happily do so along with any for Chapter Three over the next few days.

As always, please review. I hear that reviews are much like breadcrumbs. Help me lead my muse back home. ;)

CHAPTER THREE

The occupants of Netherfield did not find themselves quite as delighted with their company as were those at Longbourn that evening.

"Will you not join us at cards, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley asked, her eyes drifting to the vacant seat beside her and then returning to him. She smiled at him coquettishly, but the expression had the opposite effect of the one she intended.

"I thank you, no. I will leave that enjoyment to your brother as I have a letter to write to my sister." Mr. Darcy answered and rose from the settee to move across the room to the writing desk.

"How fortunate dear Georgiana is to have such a faithful correspondent in her elder brother," Miss Bingley observed, renewing the smile that had faltered at his refusal to join her at the table.

Feeling this observation warranted no response, and not wishing to encourage Miss Bingley's attentions, Mr. Darcy merely nodded his head and turned to arrange the articles on the desk so that he might begin writing. As conversation from the card table carried on behind him, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he attempted to arrange his thoughts. He shook his head imperceptibly as he considered how surprised even Georgiana must be at the frequency she was receiving letters from him while he was a guest at Netherfield. Although there was little occurring in Hertfordshire to require such regular correspondence, it afforded him a temporary reprieve from Miss Bingley's relentless attempts to garner favor with him. The delight it gave his sister, though a secondary consideration was further inducement to regularly seek refuge at the elegant little desk on the opposite side of the drawing room.

The thought of an alliance with Miss Bingley was nauseating. Mr. Darcy only tolerated her company for Bingley's sake. He had not always held such a low opinion of Miss Bingley, but lately the company of another lady had taught him to hope for something more than the simpering ladies of the beau monde to whom he had become accustomed. This revelation had caused Miss Bingley to sink considerably in his estimation.

An outburst at the card table arrested Mr. Darcy's thoughts. He was thankful for the interruption. His thoughts were drifting uncomfortably close to that one subject on which he was endeavoring not to dwell. She was out of his presence and he must deny her entry into his thoughts as well. It was bad enough that Miss Bingley could scarcely go an hour without renewing her criticisms of that lady or her family. She was sure to send him to Bedlam with such incessant reminders of that lady's pert opinions and fine eyes – those impossibly beautiful hazel eyes. He ran his fingers through his dark curls, sighing in frustration. She was entirely unsuitable. He must cease nurturing this heedless infatuation and put her out of his head.

Mr. Darcy took up the pen again, hoping he could quickly conclude his letter so he could make his excuses to the company and retire.

Netherfield Park, Hertfordshire

18 November

Georgiana,

I was pleased to hear in your last the progress you have made at the pianoforte. I look forward with great anticipation to hearing you perform your new music. I hope that it will not be long before I can do so. Mr. Bingley has some business to conduct in town in just under a fortnight. I believe I shall end my visit when he departs and rejoin you in London. I am glad Richard has returned to London and has been able to keep you company in my absence. As for the stories he has shared about he and I as boys at Pemberley, I assure you that he has conveniently forgotten who it was that got us into so many scrapes. Pray advise him to be mindful in his retelling as I may be forced to retaliate with some tales of my own. It continues much the same here in Hertfordshire. The Misses Bennet have departed for their own home, so our company is smaller than when I last wrote. I already miss the lively conversation and verbal sparring of these few days past. This I do not find with the other ladies of our party, and Bingley loathes disagreement of any sort too much to engage in these little debates. This visit has convinced me of the truth of your observation that Miss Bingley's wit is a degree too sharp. I am embarrassed to admit that on more than one occasion I have fallen into the trap of partaking in her witty banter, making remarks that were most unbecoming to my character and station. You would have been most disappointed in your brother. Even if I were not convinced that she has set her cap at me, I believe that distancing myself is the most prudent course of action. It was wise of you to decline the invitation to join me on this visit as I believe you would have been greatly discomfited by her prolonged company. I will be happy to depart her company when I leave to join you later this month. Mr. Bingley is to host a ball at Netherfield on the 26th of November. I do not have much hope of enjoyment , but my attendance is necessary as I am a guest of the host. I promise not to "skulk" in a corner (I suppose I have Richard to thank for that observation of my behavior at such entertainments in town – though he may exaggerate as is his wont) and to dance more than two dances, however I might dislike it. I will set to memory all of the intricate details of the festive occasion if only so I may recount them for your pleasure when I next see you. Until then, I am your devoted brother,

FD

Mr. Darcy sanded the letter and shook off the excess. He carefully folded and addressed it before sealing it and dropping it onto the silver letter tray near the door. Turning to the other occupants of the room, he cleared his throat softly, "I beg you all will excuse me. I am going to retire for the evening."

"Are you all right, Darcy?" Bingley questioned curiously, glancing at the clock on the mantel, "It is quite early."

"I am well. I simply find myself rather tired this evening." Mr. Darcy answered. Hoping to make his escape without any further conversation, he bowed quickly and left the room before Miss Bingley could make any response.

Once in his guest chamber, Mr. Darcy was surprised to find his valet waiting for him. "You have anticipated me, Davis."

"Yes, sir. Would you care for a hot bath before you retire?" Davis inquired of his master.

"I would, Davis. Thank you." He lowered himself into the armchair by the fire and stared absently into the flames as he tugged as his cravat to loosen it.

Davis returned from ordering the water for his master's bath and offered him a glass of brandy, "Thank you, Davis." Mr. Darcy gratefully accepted the drink from his valet, downing the amber liquid and setting down the glass.

"Another, sir?" Davis asked, reaching for the empty glass.

"I had better not, Davis," the gentleman declined, fearful that too much drink would weaken his resolve to forget a certain lady. He had never been one to overindulge in any case.

Some little time later, Mr. Darcy undressed with the help of his valet and stepped into the copper tub. The hot water soothed his aching muscles, melting away the tension of an exhausting day. If only the weight that pressed upon him were so easily dismantled. Soon he would leave Hertfordshire and all its occupants behind. Soon Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be forgot and the danger he found himself in would pass. Soon.