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She chose to disregard it and instead addressed Fitzwilliam with a sniff. “Indeed, I do not wish any such thing. I simply wish to ensure Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s success in society. All of us should be concerned with her achievement, even you.”

She returned to her other, less impudent but horribly stubborn, nephew. “Now, Darcy, you said you wished to accept my proposal, did you not?”

“We shall not alter our plans to depart for Pemberley, but yes, my wife, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy , will accept your offer.” Darcy sounded a bit strangled. Lady Catherine thumped his back to dislodge whatever was blocking his throat.

“Indeed, I would be honoured to receive your invaluable guidance. Thank you for offering your time and experience for my benefit.” The strumpet nodded, exhibiting an almost sufficient degree of deference as she bent her head to Darcy’s, evidently to ensure he was well.

Fitzwilliam made a strange snorting sound.

She would have to have a word with Lady Matlock about the cook’s habit of serving dishes that made diners choke.

First Darcy, and now Fitzwilliam. The latter emitted a sudden squeak, and if she had not known better, Lady Catherine would have thought his elder brother had given him a short, sharp kick under the table. Would those boys never grow up?

“It is my duty. I do it for the good of the family. We shall begin tomorrow. Tuesday next, I plan to attend a performance of my most favoured opera, indeed the one most favoured by all persons of education and discernment, Artaxerxes . I imagine your wife has not heard of it, Darcy. She must attend with me, and I shall take it upon myself to ensure she is properly dressed and prepared to have her appearance and conduct scrutinised by the most discriminating and critical observers of the ton . All of you should attend as well to provide a protective coterie in the event of a faux pas.” She frowned at her wide-eyed pupil.

“Let us discuss the particulars once we have retired to the drawing room after the meal. There, that is settled.”

“Settled?” said her brother. “I despise the opera, and that one most particularly. Eight hours of nonsense about ancient Persian princes scheming and coveting each other’s wives.

Why have you chosen bombastic caterwauling for a test of anyone’s character?

” He waved a finger at his sons. “I wager a number of us will not endure such an ordeal with both our hearing and sanity intact.”

Uncivilised lackwit . You sit in Parliament listening to pompous prats—that is the true ordeal!

“I have never been to the opera, and with four sisters, I am quite accustomed to musical caterwauling. I look forward to attending.” All eyes turned the ludicrous clodhopper’s way.

Of course she had never enjoyed refined society.

She played Scotch airs rather than Pleyel on the pianoforte—and clumsily at that!

“We shall strive to enjoy it for your sake, Mrs Darcy,” cooed the earl. “Perhaps you will find it all as ridiculous as I do and regale us with your impressions.”

The chit smiled, Darcy smiled, the earl smiled. They all looked so blissfully cosy she felt a surge of indigestion.

Lady Catherine swallowed her ire when the footman brought in the next course, a fine-looking roasted pheasant.

She took a bite. It was adequate. Although there was room for improvement in seasoning, she would overlook it.

Her sister-in-law clearly had a disaster of a cook, and it was best she advise her on hiring a new one .

She turned to Fitzwilliam. Perhaps he would marry Anne.

‘In good stead?’

Elizabeth felt Darcy’s hand tighten around hers.

After stroking her thumb over his knuckle, she gently pulled her hand away.

Already he had choked on his own bitter frustration—or on the seeded roll, which lay in angrily torn scraps on the tablecloth.

She did not wish him to stab himself whilst cutting his pheasant with one hand.

His pride is wounded enough by my perverse wish to do as his aunt instructs.

He was indulging her, and she would likewise indulge and amuse him with stories of her time with Lady Catherine.

What is but another week before we are alone for months indulging and amusing each other at Pemberley?

Feeling herself blush, she avoided the colonel’s incredulous gaze and looked across the table at Miss de Bourgh.

‘Poor sickly Anne’, as her family thought of her.

‘The paragon of a fine, genteel lady’, as Lady Catherine said of her.

What do I think of you? Elizabeth watched the frail-seeming woman lift a forkful of carrots to her mouth .

I think you are humiliated by all that has been said at this table.

A lifetime of listening to your mother insult others, degrade their talents, and disregard your own choices, interests, and thoughts .

Elizabeth peered up into the enormous mirror above the mahogany sideboard.

Lady Catherine’s eyes—small and set deep below her generous brow—met hers.

Elizabeth nodded and returned her attention to her plate.

How my father would enjoy this meal and the games afoot here: menace, joviality, and undercooked vegetables .

Mr Bennet had never met Lady Catherine, and despite his avowed disinterest in doing so or being part of the larger social world offered to him in London, she was certain he would relish the lady’s company.

In a perverse sort of way, of course. Perhaps one day at Pemberley.

A slight pressure on her slippered foot warned Elizabeth that her beloved husband was worried for her.

The dear man was a worrier, and although she preferred it when he worried her earlobe with his teeth, she did appreciate his concern.

She lifted her foot and rubbed her satin-covered toes against Darcy’s stockinged calf until he uttered a soft moan.

Looking again to the mirror, she saw the vexed expression on Lady Catherine’s face. Elizabeth grinned.