Author's note: This is a published work available on Kobo and Kindle as "A Little Encouragement" by Margaret Gale. I will be posting it here over coming weeks. If you enjoy it, please consider posting a review on Kobo or Amazon.

"… there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement."

- Charlotte Lucas in Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 6

27 November, 1812: the morning after the ball

An exhausted quiet prevailed in the halls of Netherfield Park. The night before, the elegant mansion had rung with gaiety and music as everyone who was anyone in this corner of Hertfordshire attended a private ball hosted by Mr Charles Bingley and his sister, Miss Caroline Bingley. Dancing had continued well into the early hours, and the last of the guests – the boisterous Bennet family from the neighbouring estate, Longbourn – had departed only as the first glow of dawn kissed the eastern horizon.

The inhabitants of the grand house – masters and servants alike – had taken themselves to their beds, with no intention of rising again before it was necessary. For the servants, that meant a scant few hours exhausted slumber before dragging themselves downstairs to light fireplaces, prepare meals, and start the substantial job of cleaning up after the night before. For most of the gentry, it meant a nice long lie in, with no need to stir before mid-afternoon.

Two gentlemen, though, had reason to be up and about before the sun was too high in the sky. The host, Mr Bingley, and his particular friend, Mr Darcy, planned to travel that day to London. The trip itself was not arduous, but this late in the year – it was already the tail end of November – daylight hours were growing short, and it was wise to allow extra time for delays on the road.

Darcy had been very clear that he wished to be away before 11, and had ensured his valet woke him in plenty of time. In part, he was motivated by sensible caution about travelling safely, but it could not be denied that he was also keen to be on the road before his hostess had risen for the day. The opportunity to escape Caroline Bingley's cloying attentions was a great motivator, and the gentleman was up, dressed and breakfasted by 10:30. Eager to set off, he began to wonder where his travelling companion was. Surely Bingley should have appeared at the breakfast table by now?

Bingley was no doubt more tired than Darcy. He had danced every set at the ball the night before, as well as fulfilling his duties as host. He had been in motion for the entire evening, while Darcy had mostly leaned against the wall, observing proceedings. In addition, it was clear to his sisters and friend that he was expending his energies in an attempt to win the heart of the beautiful Miss Bennet, eldest daughter of that very family that had been the last to leave the ball.

Darcy had his doubts about the wisdom of that venture. Bingley clearly thought himself in love, and the object of his affections was a genteel young lady of good, although not notable, birth. That her family had connections to trade could not be an insurmountable objection for one such as Bingley, given his own heritage in that field. Nevertheless, that total want of propriety almost uniformly betrayed by the mother, the three younger sisters and even occasionally by their father must be a true impediment to domestic felicity should Bingley tie himself to the Bennets. More worrying than all of this, however, was that the lady herself appeared indifferent to his friend.

Darcy had spent some time the evening before observing Miss Bennet and Bingley. The serenity of the lady's countenance barely changed throughout the evening. Her smiles were evenly bestowed on every dance partner, with no special smile reserved for Bingley. In all, her air was such as might have given the most acute observer a conviction that, however amiable her temper, her heart was not likely to be easily touched. While she received Bingley's attentions with pleasure, it seemed clear that she did not invite them by any participation of sentiment.

Darcy resolved to advise his friend to caution. After the attentions Bingley had been showering on the lady, should he declare his affection, his honour would be irrevocably engaged: he would have no choice but to offer for her. Darcy did not want to see his closest friend trapped in a marriage of unequal affections. Bingley's own nature was so open, affectionate and trusting that he would suffer deeply to discover that his love for Miss Bennet was not reciprocated. To learn that after tying his life to hers would be cruel indeed. Better for Bingley to face that unpleasant truth now, before he had gone too far to retreat. This trip to London was a perfect opportunity to broach the subject with his friend.

The tall figure of Fitzwilliam Darcy could soon be seen pacing the halls of Netherfield Park. He sought Bingley first in his chambers, assuming that he had slept in. Finding the master's suite empty, Darcy checked the stables – perhaps Bingley was taking an unusual interest in the preparation of the carriage? While work was well underway for their departure, with trunks being loaded and carriage horses being led out ready to be put in tackle, Bingley was nowhere to be seen, and the stable master assured Darcy that the master had not been that way today.

Returning to the house, Darcy wracked his brains to work out where his friend might be found. Of a morning, he was a man of habit. He would rise, attend to his toilette, dress, and head directly to break his fast. He was not one to go below stairs, nor would he while away time in a parlour or sitting room unless there was company to entertain. Bingley was as likely to be found in the library as Darcy was to put himself on display at Almacks. After puzzling for some time, and checking the breakfast room again just in case, Darcy finally recalled that, for all his apparent disinclination to take the role seriously, Bingley was in fact master of this estate. He might – just might – be attending to some last minute estate business in the master's study.

Darcy's long stride soon took him to the study door: it was closed, but he could hear Bingley's voice within, and knew his search had ended. It did not occur to him to knock before entering. His friendship with Bingley was of such long standing that they shared a degree of informality typical of brothers, and Darcy was confident Bingley would welcome his contribution to speeding on whatever matters were delaying their departure. He opened the door and walked in, about to hail his friend and offer his assistance. Instead, he stopped a step inside the room, shocked into silence. Bingley was not alone. The other person in the room was not the steward, as Darcy had anticipated, but Miss Jane Bennet. And they had been kissing!

Copyright © 2018 by Margaret Gale