For a moment, I dread the emphatic behest actually exited this untoward mind via an untrustworthy mouth. Although inured to constant scrutiny at such assemblies, an abnormal number of looks are presently being cast in my direction. I prepare to return the glowers but realize I am already scowling. Ah, that would explain the cringeworthy looks. Good. I have neither the time for an apology nor a ready and reasonable rationale regarding sweet torment and its banishment.

As yet to lay eyes on the woman, and already I have resorted to ungentlemanly behaviour. Clodpole! This does not bode well as an auspicious beginning to our reunion. What can I offer in my defense? From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with Elizabeth Bennet, I have been at her mercy and out of my wits. I would not wish it generally known Fitzwilliam Darcy, man of the world, is held in the absolute thrall of a young country miss.

Haughty expression established and blinders firmly in place over my wicked mind’s eye, I pay heed to our snail’s-pace progress through the throng. As usual, hail-fellow-well-met Bingley is being greeted cheerfully by his neighbours; but few dare address me. I avoid eye contact with anyone who might impede forward movement. Oh, blast it all! Yes, in my eagerness and haste to reach Elizabeth, I have again forgotten my determination to be more personable. Smile, you sap-skull.

Egads, what is this? That reeky apothecary has apparently misinterpreted my smile as approachability and appears hellbent on renewing our acquaintance. My apologies, Jones, but I must plead ignorance of your presence.