The Lost Journals of Fitzwilliam Darcy

August 22, 1811

Today's entry is marked by a sense of expectation, a narrative of events relayed to me through the buoyant words of Charles Bingley, for I did not accompany him on his visit to Longbourn—an obligation of courtesy to return the civility extended to us by Mr. Bennet. My own inclinations led me to remain at Netherfield, indulging in the solitude that I so often find to be a balm to my disposition.

Charles departed after breakfast with a liveliness in his step, the prospect of making the acquaintance of Mr. Bennet's reputedly charming daughters evidently occupying his every thought. "Darcy, are you certain you will not join me?" he asked, a note of disappointment in his voice, as he prepared to depart.

I offered him a smile, albeit a restrained one. "I have matters here that require my attention, Charles. You must convey my regards to Mr. Bennet and his family."

He accepted my decision with a nod, though I could see the eagerness in his eyes was undiminished. "Very well, but you miss an opportunity, I fear. I am told the Bennet daughters are quite the most delightful young ladies in the neighbourhood," he said with a wink before setting off.

Upon his return, I was met with a Charles somewhat deflated in spirit—an uncommon state for a man of his usual vivacity. "Well?" I inquired, curious as to the cause of his discomfiture.

Charles sighed, taking a seat opposite me as he removed his gloves with a touch more force than necessary. "It seems I was doomed to disappointment, Darcy. The ladies of Longbourn were not at home, and so I was denied the pleasure of their company."

I could not help but raise a brow at this. "Surely such a triviality is not cause for such chagrin?"

He shook his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. "Perhaps not, but I had hoped to make their acquaintance. You understand, I have heard much praise of Miss Jane Bennet's beauty, and her sisters are said to be equally accomplished."

I regarded him for a moment, weighing my words. "There will be other opportunities, Charles. The assembly is not far off, and no doubt you will meet the Bennet ladies there."

His mood lifted at this, the shadow of his earlier disappointment chased away by the prospect of the imminent social occasion. "You are right, of course, Darcy. The assembly! That shall be the moment for introductions. And you must promise to attend as well."

I conceded to his request, though the thought of an evening spent in the intricate dance of country society did little to stir my spirits. "I shall attend, though you know well my feelings on such affairs."

Charles laughed, his good humour restored. "Yes, yes, but who knows? You may find yourself surprised by the charms of Hertfordshire's daughters."

I allowed myself a small smile at his teasing, though inwardly I doubted the likelihood of such an occurrence. Nonetheless, I resolved to support Charles in his social endeavours, even if it meant stepping beyond the confines of my own preferences.

As I retire for the evening, I reflect upon the day's events, or rather, the lack thereof. The anticipation of meeting the Bennet family remains unfulfilled, a narrative pause that piques my curiosity despite my usual reserve. It is a curiosity born not of a desire for company, but rather an interest in the characters that inhabit Charles's newfound world—a world that I, by virtue of friendship and circumstance, find myself increasingly drawn into.

Fitzwilliam Darcy