A Test of Fire Chapter 1
The Assembly Rooms in Meryton pulsed with joyous celebration for the end of the harvest season. Nearly every family in the surrounding hamlets of Meryton, Netherfield, and Longbourn were represented.
The air inside became thick and cloying, a mixture of honeyed wine and butterscotch from the ground floor warred with the scents of wax candles and tobacco smoke from the upstairs card tables.
Years of struggle fell from memory as many farms enjoyed the most bountiful harvests. The dancing, revelry, and card games began promptly at eight o’clock in the evening.
Elizabeth Bennet, the second eldest daughter of the Bennet family of Longbourn, stared most curiously over at the party accompanying the newest resident of Netherfield Park, a Mr. Charles Bingley.
The gentleman, Mr. Bingley, she assessed as jovial and kind. The man secured sets with her elder sister Jane, and her dear friend Charlotte Lucas.
Elizabeth respected that Mr. Bingley, the newest bachelor in the area, solicited dances with the eldest daughters of each prominent family. He was first standing up with Mrs. Long’s niece, Harriet.
Mr. Bingley’s sisters were another matter altogether. Their costumes stood out in fashion and form compared to the other ladies in the room. A local assembly such as Meryton would never rival the ballrooms of London for adherence to the latest fashion plates.
With the youngest in a bright, shimmery tangerine and the elder, married sister in a deep amethyst gown, each laughed and mocked the frocks around them skillfully behind fluttering fans.
The two Bingley sisters remained noticeably close to the other gentleman that had arrived with them, Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire. After Mr. Darcy asked Miss Bingley to a set, Elizabeth passed by Mr. Bingley’s eldest sister, Mrs. Hurst, to overhear a harsh criticism spoken to her husband.
“What a tragic waist on that one, there, dancing with Charles. Her family must not have any means to dress her properly,” Mrs. Hurst sneered as her portly husband nodded in agreement.
Elizabeth disliked those two immediately, even though Harriet Long was not one of her favorite confidants in the surrounding area, no one deserved derision by utter strangers.
She moved away from the complaining woman for the duration of the set and watched the spinning couples from the vantage point of the punch bowl.
“Do you see those two gentlemen?” Mrs. Bennet, the mother of five daughters, asked her husband Mr. Bennet, who politely nodded and smiled at the lady to his right, but did not otherwise concern himself with Mrs. Bennet’s question. “Mr. Bingley seems very amiable. He could be a perfect match for one of our girls.”
“Mmmm,” the bookish man intoned. “The younger of them is not so bad… but the elder. Oh my, what a fright. With that dark coat and pale face, I should think he is a ghost risen from the dead.” Mr. Bennet could not resist a smile as he sipped from a crystal glass of Madeira. “I should hope not him, for he appears to be a frightfully bad dancer.”
Mr. Bennet, who was a keen observer of society’s foibles and frivolities, appeared to his wife to show great attention to her prattle. He caught his daughter Elizabeth’s eye and winked as she walked past her parents.
If she had given them the same judgment as she had the Hursts, she would find their behavior just as appalling.
Instead, the unfamiliarity of the stranger failed to redeem the Hursts while expecting her parents’ behavior made her overlook their trespasses.
Having to sit out sets due to a shortage of gentlemen, Elizabeth made it her new mission to learn more about Mr. Darcy, who she noticed spoke to no one outside of his party. His behavior tempted her curiosity.
As she neared , Mr. Bingley approached him, encouraging him to dance again. Elizabeth smiled as she heartily agreed with Mr. Bingley finding fault with his friend when there was such a shortage of partners in the room. What she did not expect was Mr. Bingley incorporating her proximity into his plans of scolding.
“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
Elizabeth found herself nodding with Mr. Bingley’s good sense.
“I certainly shall not. You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. In such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged for the next set, and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment to me to stand up with.”
Elizabeth caught herself in mid-squawk at the man’s rudeness. His behavior matched so closely to Mr. Bingley’s elder sister!
She had hoped Mr. Darcy was merely shy, not prejudiced against those of lesser means. Instead, her highest hopes for the man shattered from his utter disdain for every lady in the room.
“I would not be so fastidious as you are,” cried Bingley, “for a kingdom! Upon my honor, I never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty.”
Elizabeth giggled at Mr. Bingley’s assessment, catching the eye of her friend Charlotte Lucas across the way. Charlotte silently shook her head with a look of disapproval. She knew quite well what consequences could arise from her friend’s game of spying on others.
“You are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room,’ said Mr. Darcy, looking at the eldest Miss Bennet.
“Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”
“Which do you mean?’ Turning round, Mr. Darcy looked for a moment at Elizabeth, catching her eye.
Elizabeth found herself short of breath and utterly captivated by the twisted look of pain on the man’s face. Her sense of empathy disappeared as he withdrew his gaze and coldly said, “She is tolerable; but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Mr. Bingley shook off his friend’s negative attitude to rejoin the festivities and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at the back of the man who had so thoroughly insulted her that she wished to thrash him. Her memories of cruel boys in her childhood and their wicked taunts led her straight to the safety of Charlotte Lucas and her brother, John.
John had been one of those young lads that earned himself more than one injury at Elizabeth’s hands, growing up in the rustic countryside before they were all expected to join polite society. Thankfully, he had improved with age where it appeared Mr. Darcy had not.
“You shall never believe what Mr. Darcy just said, directly in front of me. Apparently, I am tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him to dance with me,” she recounted with a brief embrace of her friend as a greeting, then crossing her arms in ire.
“Lizzy, serves you right for eavesdropping,” Charlotte admonished, but John laughed.
“Dueling pistols at dawn then? Clearly, his eyesight is not good. Though alternatively, we could have Father command that he dance with you,” John said, looking around for his father who relished his role as Master of Ceremonies at every assembly.
“Dueling . . . commandments?” Charlotte asked, mishearing her brother by only catching a few words.
Their group was soon approached by Mr. Bingley and Elizabeth realized the man was attempting to make amends for his friend, or else he had run out of eldest daughters and moved on to the second born.
No matter how kind Mr. Bingley was to her, Elizabeth felt no desire for further attachment to him; that state she happily reserved for her sister Jane who could not stop looking in Mr. Bingley’s direction all evening long.
“Aye, Charlotte, we shall write ten,” Elizabeth said, confusing her friend even further, but earning a laugh from John.
“Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of this dance?” Mr. Bingley asked, and Elizabeth accepted.
During the dance, Mr. Bingley did indeed apologize for his friend’s behavior, but Lizzy laughed it off.
“He did say that he detested dancing,” she said as she moved with the steps to meet Mr. Bingley in the middle and then return back to the line. “I can hardly hold the opinion of a man so defective in his social graces to high esteem.”
“Defective, oh, in his social graces, oh, I see, well done!” Mr. Bingley said, enjoying Miss Elizabeth’s sharp wit against his friend. He was much more accustomed to the universal deference and simpering his wealthy friend enjoyed wherever he went than stern rejection.
Elizabeth smiled at the man in question as he watched her dance with Mr. Bingley most intently. Given the friendship between the two men, she suspected her words would reach him by his friend’s recounting after the conclusion of the dance.
And that assumption is what began her second game of the evening: to stay as far away as possible from Mr. Darcy for the duration.
This new game proved trickier than the last, for her sister Jane and Mr. Bingley soon found ways to speak in every interval between dances, and Mr. Darcy stood often near his friend.
This prompted Elizabeth to constantly walk away from the party until she ran directly into John Lucas again.
“Shall I state you are handsome enough to tempt me, Lizzy? Shall we dance?” John Lucas teased his sister’s friend and Elizabeth laughed at the sentiment.
She had long passed over any superficial desires for John Lucas back when he went away to school in London at fifteen, mostly because he returned with no marked improvement in his thoughts despite the training.
“Yes, we shall, but you need not flatter my vanity.”
“It is the Boulanger, perhaps we’ll find you a husband, yet,” John Lucas responded.
Unfortunately, they found themselves in a grouping with none other than Jane, Mr. Bingley, Mrs. Hurst, and her dance partner, Mr. Darcy, and Elizabeth’s remaining sisters with their partners.
The exact grouping she had hoped to avoid until she spied a telling grin from John Lucas, she realized he had led her directly to the group of her sisters on purpose!
Elizabeth scowled as Mr. Darcy seemingly aided in the setup when he grasped her other hand and she was forced to skip and make merry dancing around a circle between the two men.
She stood stoically next to the offending man as Mr. Lucas happily took his circuits with half of the ladies in the ring. A pit in her stomach began to form as she counted ahead and realized due to the formation, she would have to twirl and spin with Mr. Darcy no less than two times per cycle and she resolved to not meet his eye.
Of course, this mettle became tested the very first time they took a spin as he grasped her hands with gentle firmness, stronger than the other men, and she looked up in surprise.
His dark brown eyes remained in pain and once again, her sympathy for the man came from a deep place in her heart, overruling her mind’s indignance over his existence.
“I hope I’m performing tolerably,” she called out as they had rejoined the circle and she followed behind him, knowing her words would reach him as she faced his direction.
The circle changed directions, and she now had her back to Mr. Darcy, following behind John Lucas, holding hands with both men.
“Indeed, I am tempted,” Mr. Darcy stated.
Elizabeth caught her breath and blushed as she had to stand next to him again, appearing unaffected while Mr. Lucas took his spins with Jane and her younger sister, Kitty.
A shriek above and abrupt screeching of the violin paralyzed the dancing groups below as thick, black smoke began to fill the ceiling from the balcony.
The adults playing cards above where they could safely look down and chaperone their charges were in an uproar, jostling the musicians in the balcony who all stood, holding their instruments as though prepared to do battle.
“Fire!” yelled a voice above stairs, and Elizabeth felt time slow to a stop.
At first, no one moved a muscle in response, until everyone attempted to move at once!
“No!” she screamed, her eyes glued to the sight while her heart beat so fast she could feel it in her bones. Every person on the dance floor jostled for the sides of the room, heading towards the doors. People thundered down the stairs. Couples grabbed one another holding on despite the rush.
John Lucas abandoned Elizabeth to search for his sisters, and behind her, a loud crash heralded the subsequent sound of shattering glass.
Someone had thrown a chair at the wide, sashed windows in the front. More men picked up chairs to smash the windows, a deafening clatter until a few gave way.
The sudden gush of air fed the flames and more screams upstairs pierced the din. Elizabeth felt herself carried out the front door in the sea of people. She gagged on smoke feeling in her heart something was terribly wrong.
Within moments she stood outside with three of her sisters: Lydia, Kitty, and Mary. But there was no Jane.
“Jane!” Elizabeth screamed as she coughed from inhaling the smoke. “Jane?” She searched all of the groupings of people around her as some of the men and women ran away, and others called for buckets to begin a brigade. Others had gone to the barn to bring out the horses and livestock as the fire appeared to have begun in the tavern next door.
Everywhere Elizabeth looked there was chaos, but she could not find her sister who should have been right behind her.
Elizabeth abandoned her younger sisters to rush back to the front door, but people continued to spill out, though fewer in number.
“Stop, Elizabeth!” A pair of strong hands grasped her shoulder, shocking her by using only her first name. She spun around to see Mr. Darcy keeping her from entering the building once more.
“But I must, my sister!” she screamed, stomping hard on the man’s foot to escape his grasp, she climbed back in through a smashed window, caring not that her gloved hand now bled freely from the cut glass.
Immediately, the thick smoke overtook her, and she collapsed to her hands and knees, gasping for air. What little oxygen her lungs found felt too hot to breathe. Crawling along the floor, littered with debris and glass, and now dotted with burning embers from the ceiling above, Elizabeth tried to search for her sister.
The heat and lack of visibility proved too strong, and she managed only a few feet, touching the hand of someone on the floor. She willed her eyes to open, despite the stinging temperatures and smoke to see it was not Jane, but Charlotte Lucas.
A burst of pain tormented her feet, and Elizabeth kicked out. She mustered all her remaining strength to roll away, trying to pull Charlotte with her. But Charlotte would not budge even a few inches. Elizabeth tried to cry, but her tears were taken by the blazing heat before they could fall.
She was too late.
Realizing she was about to match Charlotte’s fate, she let go and continued to roll, covering her face with her bloodied hands, in what she believed to be the direction of the front door.
Just as she resigned herself to death, someone lifted her from the ground as though she weighed nothing at all. Her last thoughts were of angels raising her out of the burning inferno of a Hell that had claimed her friend and possibly her dearest sister.
You have been reading A Test of Fire...
He called her “tolerable.” Then he became her savior.
Mr. Darcy’s cutting dismissal should have been the worst part of Elizabeth Bennet’s evening. Instead, it was the fire that nearly killed her—and his desperate rescue that changed everything. Now the proud gentleman who publicly snubbed her has become a constant, concerned presence at Longbourn, and Elizabeth doesn’t know what to do with a debt she can never repay.
Survivor’s guilt meets devoted protector.
As Elizabeth battles serious injuries and grieves her lost friend Charlotte, Darcy brings his personal physician from London and becomes her chess partner during long recovery days. But every shared glance makes her heart race—and she can’t tell if it’s love or gratitude.
When pushy cousin Mr. Collins proposes and Darcy’s intimidating aunt arrives to forbid any attachment, Elizabeth’s feelings are put to the ultimate test.
Sometimes you have to survive the fire to find your forever.
A Test of Fire is a feel-good path of healing and overcoming survivor’s guilt for Our Dear Couple. You don’t want to miss it!†
†This story was produced using author‑directed AI tools. This is a re-release, newly edited with bonus scenes and other enhancements. Elizabeth is a founder and owner of Future Fiction Press.
