First Impressions

The third Tuesday of June's parching ninety-degree weather met a pickup of cool lake air, and the third Wednesday rolled in thick rainclouds that fell in freezing, constant droplets. 

While Longbournies groaned of postponed barbecues and boat outings, Lizzie loved days like these. The streets were fairly deserted, causing half the shops to close for the day and leaving the cafe open, yet entirely empty. And thus, that gave Lizzie the opportunity to whip herself up a large mug of hot cocoa (dark, with extra whip) before curling up in the plushy, red armchair in the corner with a good book. Mrs. Bennet was off gossiping with Mrs. Lucas for the afternoon, Mr. Bennet was in his back office counting tabs (or as the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, reading), and the rest of her siblings were quietly (for once!) entertaining themselves upstairs until Lizzie would need their assistance. Which, luckily, she did not. 

Reading, Lizzie found, was conditioning for dreams. It was not only a portal for imagination, but hope for the future. Books were what had gotten a vibrant-minded, curious Lizzie through years in such a quaint town, as well as had given her the courage to leave. Yes, Longbourn would always be home, but there was so much more to the world than this! And every well-developed character and breathtaking climax made her believe in that more so. 

She was not yet into twenty minutes of reading that the door tinkered open, causing Lizzie to glance up and immediately reserve herself from gaping.

He has dusty blonde hair that was too short to be considered a mop, but it wasn't clean cut either. It instead was perfect, especially against his bronzed, chiseled face. A perfect jawline with a perfect smile. And because of the rain, this stranger was soaked from head to toe, revealing his very well-built upper body against a white v-neck shirt and black leather jacket.

"Sorry," he said in a distinctly Canadian accent. He had an accent! "Are you open?"

"Yes, of course," Lizzie found herself hurriedly standing up. "How can I help you?" 

"I was hoping to get out of the rain," the stranger smiled sheepishly. "Of course, now that I see the concoction you've got there, I'm going to have to order one."

"For here, or to go?"

"Depends on whose company I'd be having," he extended a hand. "I'm Henry Wickham."

"Lizzie Bennet, it's a pleasure," she returned gracefully, though internally her heart was thumping nervously. "Welcome to Longbourn." 

"Beautiful town," Henry remarked, as Lizzie stepped behind the counter to make another hot cocoa. "I've never been anywhere so inviting, and it's been about five minutes!"

"Thank you!" Lizzie was pleased with Henry's answer, considering the last comment she received about Longbourn was from Jonathan Toews. "What brings you here?" 

"En route the border, actually," he thumbed out the window to a jet black scooter parked down the sidewalk. "Trying to get to Toronto from New Orleans."

"You've ridden a bike all this way?"

"I guess you could say I'm living on the edge," Henry grinned. "Of survival...and my bank account. This thing gets nearly fifty miles to the gallon."

"Impressive," Lizzie found herself already fawning over Henry in less that a minute. She handed him the steaming mug and gestured to the royal blue armchair next to hers. "It's on the house. Would you like to sit down?" 

"I'd love to," Henry glanced at the hardcover she'd tucked between the cushion. "If I'm not bothering you, of course."

"No, no, it's alright," Lizzie assured him, a bit desperately. "It's been a slow day, that's all. And here, sit down and let me get you a towel- you're soaked!"

So Henry Wickham sat, allowing Lizzie to fetch him not only a towel, but also one of her father's button downs she insisted he wouldn't miss, thanking her graciously when she offered to throw his shirt in the dryer as well. 

"Golden proof that this town is the most inviting place I've been to," Henry told her. "You're an angel."

Lizzie blushed. No one had ever called her an angel- that remark was usually reserved for Jane. 

"You should meet my sister, she's the real angel of the family."

"Is she as beautiful as you? Because I'm fairly certain that's impossible..."

Over slowly drawn out mugs of cocoa, Lizzie discovered more and more about this new-in-town fellow. Like she'd suspected, yes, he was born in Canada but had been traveling the world for the last couple of years, from London to Bangladesh to Sydney (where he'd surfed until he was golden, it appeared). He worked odd jobs for room and board in most places, but was now heading back home to start medical school at the University of Toronto. 

"I'm hoping to be a pediatrician," he told Lizzie when she asked what kind of doctor he hoped to become. "Really, I just adore kids."

"That's so inspiring."

Look at you! Lizzie tried to warn herself. Getting sucked into Henry's charm and class...but he was just about perfect in every way! Handsome, intelligent, adventurous.

"You know, I should really head over to the bed and breakfast and catch a room before it's too late," Henry finally said, snapping Lizzie out of her trance. 

"Oh, of course," she said, sad to see him go. "Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, Henry. I hope to see you around town as long as you're here."

"Definitely, Lizzie," he nodded, adding her name after a brief pause. "Thank you for the cocoa, and the conversation."

Henry waved, heading towards the door. Then suddenly, he turned around, hand on the knob and looked at Lizzie pointedly. 

"Would it be inconvenient if I stopped back for a late lunch?" he asked in a tone hopeful enough to make Lizzie's knees wobble. "After all, checking in shouldn't take much time, and I'd hate to suspend our conversation for too long."

"I'd hate to suspend it any longer as well," Lizzie rose in color, but grinned widely. "So no, it wouldn't be inconvenient." 

"I'll see you soon, then."

Breathe, Lizzie, she told herself in the minutes after he left. Why was she so nervous? He was gone, and she still couldn't stop blushing! Hastily, she scrambled to clear the cocoa mugs into the kitchen, pausing in the reflection of the industrial-sized fridge to fix her hair and the slightest bit of makeup she wore. 

It was luck, for such a peculiarly fascinating stranger to come into town. Not that it would turn into anything special, Lizzie assured herself. But of course, Henry attracted her incredibly. And with a smidgeon of confidence, Lizzie knew that he'd found her attractive as well.

The jingle of the front door floated back to the kitchen, causing Lizzie to furrow her brow. Henry had only left less than five minutes ago. Surely he hadn't checked in already.

"You didn't get lost, did you now?" Lizzie called as she walked out to the front. "Really, the place is just around-"

And then she stopped short, finding herself face to face, not with Henry Wickham like she'd hoped, but another young man who she hadn't expected to ever enter the Bennet House cafe again. 

"Was I supposed to be lost?" asked Jonathan Toews furrowing his own brow back at hers. 

Yes, Lizzie decided, it had been luck.

And luck is fleeting.