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B y the first of September, the old Gardiner family home was inhabited once more—by Bennets.

Nails, plaster and whitewash, soap and water, and wood varnish had made the house livable again.

The weather was still warm enough to go without a fire in the pot belly stove, but Dr. Bennet had already begun chopping and collecting firewood and piling it beside the storage shed for the coming winter.

The family had been introduced at Harvey’s Ridge Methodist Church where Mrs. Bennet had attended as a young girl. Several of the county families belonged to that church, including the Darcys, the Lucases, and the Longs.

Elizabeth quickly found a kindred spirit in Charlotte, the oldest of the Lucas children.

She was hardly a child—in fact, she was three years older than Jane—but she had a cheerful, practical disposition that made her seem youthful.

She was also the best source for gossip in the county, making her a helpful friend for the new girl in town.

Charlotte knew everyone’s stories and had no qualms about sharing them, making it her personal responsibility to inform them as much as possible about their new surroundings.

She and Elizabeth were sitting in church one hot September Sunday morning engaged in just such a conversation.

“Watch out for those Long boys. They’re rough as cobs.

Lewis, the second oldest, he spent some time in jail last year—carousing and gambling and drinking down in Hendersonville, Tennessee.

” She accented the first syllable, giving the state name a Southern lilt to it.

“The girls are nice though, if a little dim.”

“What about the Darcys?” Elizabeth asked, looking down at her hymnal and thumbing through it.

Charlotte gave her an amused smile. “Set your cap for William Darcy already, have ya?”

“What?” Elizabeth asked—too loudly, she realized, when she caught a warning glare from her mother.

“I have not ‘set my cap’ for him,” she whispered. “Charlotte Lucas, I’m surprised at you for even suggesting such a thing. He’s married!”

It was Charlotte’s turn to look shocked. “He’s not married.”

“But Georgiana and the little girls—”

“Oh, I see what you mean, but Georgiana’s not his wife . She’s his sister .”

Elizabeth’s eyes and mouth all made perfectly round O s.“But where’s her husband? And why are the girls’ last names Darcy ?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Georgiana Darcy was married, and she lived off somewhere far away for a while, but then about a year and a half ago, she came back, with them two little girls in tow. She and Mr. Darcy told everyone her husband was gone, and she took back her maiden name.”

“Whatever happened?”

“No one knows for sure. Some say the husband died working on the Hoover Dam. Some say he was a criminal, and Mr. Darcy didn’t want the girls to have a jailbird’s name.

So, he legally changed their name to Darcy.

Some say the husband just up and left her, and she had to come back home so she could feed her babies. ”

“That’s terrible!”

Charlotte nodded her head solemnly.“And then”—she leaned in and whispered in Elizabeth’s ear for dramatic effect—“some say that Mr. Darcy just didn’t like the husband, so he made Georgiana get a divorce and take back her name, or he’d cut her off without a penny.”

“Well, which story is the truth?”

“Don’t guess any of us will ever know. Poor Georgiana had an awful time when she first came back.

Some of the older ladies weren’t too nice to her, but over time, people kind of forget, you know.

Or, maybe not forget, but accept. And it helped that Georgiana’s very sweet and shy.

Most people began to feel sorry for her unfortunate past, no matter what it was.

They don’t talk too much about it anymore.

Lots of folks got problems of their own these days. ”

“Hmm.” Elizabeth could certainly empathize with that. She turned back to her hymnal.

“So you can set your cap for him”—Charlotte went on—“Every other woman within twenty miles has—even the older ones, like Caroline Bingley—not that it’ll do any of ’em any good. He’s a confirmed bachelor.”

As if on cue, the object of their conversation entered the back of the church, ushering his sister and nieces in front of him.

His dark brown suit matched his dark, serious disposition.

He paused at the back to shake hands with Mr. Lucas, and the girls made their way down to the pew in the third row from the front.

Maggie gave Elizabeth a little wave from the aisle, which Elizabeth returned with an indulgent grin. She then turned back to Charlotte.

“So, what’s Mr. Darcy’s problem? Is he too good to stoop to the mortal institution of marriage?”

“Well, that’s another mystery, isn’t it? Why hasn’t Mr. Darcy married?He could certainly afford to.”

“He’s so stern and haughty. I can’t imagine him courting anyone.I mean, just look at him.”

Mr. Darcy walked down the aisle and shot a sharp look at the two women watching him. Elizabeth gasped a little and looked away, but Charlotte kept him in her frank, discriminating gaze.

“Yes, I see what you mean, but he’s very handsome too. A lot of girls would put up with a serious feller if he was tall and rich—and had those pretty eyes and that wavy hair.”

“Maybe.”

There was a lull in the conversation as Elizabeth and Charlotte scooted down the pew to make room for Jane and Mary. After a minute or two, Charlotte leaned back toward her friend and remarked in a casual voice, “He sure looks at you a lot.”

“Who, Mr. Darcy? He does not!”

“See for yourself.” Charlotte thumbed through her Bible, finding the morning’s verse that was posted at the front of the church.

Elizabeth couldn’t stop her gaze darting in front of her and to the left.

Indeed, Charlotte was correct. The old stodgy puss was looking back at her with those mysterious eyes like pools of opaque darkness.

When their gazes met, he quirked his lips into a grimace that, on him, seemed almost friendly.

She returned it and glanced back down at her hymnal.

“He looks at me as if I had a smudge on my face or smelled bad or something. He looks down on all of us. The Bennets, I mean.”

Charlotte studied her curiously, then glanced back at Mr. Darcy. She shrugged her shoulders. “He’s tall enough that he looks down on everyone.” She grinned at her own joke. “Oh, are you coming to the ice cream social after church today?”

“Mm-hmm.You know, Mama says they’ve been having those since she was a little girl. She insisted we go and maybe we’d meet some ‘nice, young church-going boys.’” Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and Charlotte giggled.

Mrs. Bennet shushed her second oldest daughter from farther down the pew, and Lizzy quieted in preparation for the service.

Again, she caught Mr. Darcy staring at her.

He turned quickly when she saw him. Elizabeth self-consciously rubbed an imaginary ink smudge from her cheek and returned her attention to Reverend Adams.

“Strawberry is my very favorite ice cream, but Unca says there’s no strawberry today because it’s ‘outta season.’ Do you know what ‘outta season’ means?”

Elizabeth smiled down at Maggie Darcy’s eager, upturned face. “Why yes, I do.”

“I do too. Unca told me. It means the strawberries all come in May and June, and now it’s September, and there’s none left in the strawberry patch.

” She swung her feet, rhythmically kicking the fallen log upon which she was perched.

“So now there’s just plain vanilla. You can put syrup on it though, and nuts and candied cherries. That makes it special.”

Elizabeth dipped her spoon into her bowl and took a bite of her ice cream.

Maggie looked at her with an intensity that was a bit unnerving in one so young. “I didn’t know if you knew that, ’cause you’re new here.”

“Oh, yes, I knew,” Elizabeth answered. “Did I ever tell you about the ice cream parlor in the town where I used to live?”

Maggie shook her head.

“They sold ice cream every day, all year round.” Elizabeth leaned down and whispered in her ear. “We could even get strawberry when it was out of season.”

Maggie’s eyes were round. “Ooh, I would like that. Why did you leave that town?”

“My family came here, so I came with them.”

“To your farm?”

“Yes, to my farm.”

“Did you live on a farm before? Where you used’ta live?”

“No, I didn’t. I—we… Well, my father was a professor…”She looked down at Maggie, who was blinking at her, uncomprehending. “Hmm. See, my father was a teacher, for grown people, but he couldn’t do that work anymore, so we came here to live on the farm.”

Maggie nodded solemnly. “It’s the ’Pression.”

“Pardon me?”

“The ’Pression. Mama says lots of people have to move to get a new job, ’cause of the ’Pression. I heard her and Unca talk about it at the supper table.”

Elizabeth blinked and stared, marveling at the precocious little girl. Maggie gave her an innocent, beatific smile. Lost in her thoughts, Elizabeth jumped at the sound of someone clearing his throat behind her.

Maggie turned, and her face lit up like a sunrise. “Unca!”

“Hello, Maggie.” Elizabeth felt her pulse jolt in response to the smooth, deep baritone voice of William Darcy. She realized she’d never heard him speak before. His voice was quite…pleasant.

Maggie hopped down off the log and took his hand. “Unca, this is my new friend, Elizabeth Bennet.”

“I see,” he said, his lips twitching in amusement.

Maggie went on formally.“Miss Bennet, this is my Unca”—she shook her head—“I mean, my uncle, William Darcy.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Bennet.” He nodded to her.

“And you.” Elizabeth gave him a cool, refined smile.

Maggie went on, trying to start a conversation. “Elizabeth saved Ruth from the train—on that other day.”

He looked at Maggie, returning to his typical, serious expression.“Yes, I remember that.” His eyes drifted to Elizabeth. “I haven’t thanked you properly, have I?”