Now I have returned to this humble place. All hope for future felicity hinges on her reaction to my presence here tonight as well as on my own, God willing, impeccable comportment. I am reasonably sanguine about my prospects, but let me first see how she behaves. It will then be early enough for expectation.

Early enough? Bah! I swear time elapses this evening as if regulated by a broken timepiece. Suspicious of the assembly room’s sluggish clock, I consult my reliable fob-watch, which confirms it is, indeed, eighteen minutes past the hour. I grow increasingly impatient with this unendurable vigilance.

Next to me, Bingley is conversing with Miss Maria Lucas. Their mundane chitchat about the shire’s extraordinarily clear weather interests me not in the least… until my friend impresses me with a well-wrought, nonchalant inquiry about the Bennet family. My ears perk up, and now I cannot help but eavesdrop. Miss Lucas’s supposition is the Bennets are tardy because they have many females to prepare and only one lady’s maid. I would gladly hire an abigail apiece for the sisters if it would just bring the second eldest one here sooner.

Elizabeth will look exquisite should she arrive wearing sackcloth. Oh, God. If she has read my letter and given any credit to its contents, I fear she will deem sackcloth and ashes appropriate apparel. The woman is beyond reproach and must suffer no shame on my account; and I will tell her so … if she would just arrive already!

I had entertained hopes of receiving no inconsiderable pleasure from the sight of Longbourn’s young ladies attractively arrayed here by their mother in anticipation of our coming. Instead I see only the neighbours. In this confined and unvarying society, rumours of Netherfield’s occupation undoubtedly reached Mrs. Bennet’s thirsty ears three days ago. Our presence must be common knowledge by now. So, where are they? Where is Elizab … OOF!