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Fortunately—or perhaps by some providential design—Mrs. Bennet, Lydia, and Kitty were presently in Meryton, engaged in the ostensible pursuit of new bonnets, though all who knew them suspected the true object was braided in scarlet and brass.

This left Elizabeth free to greet her aunt in peace—and to brace herself for the gentle interrogation that was sure to follow.

Sitting in the parlor, Elizabeth had just finished arranging a small vase of late-blooming roses when she heard a gentle knock at the door. She turned with a start to see Mrs. Hill ushering in a familiar figure, gloved and cloaked in travelling attire.

“Madam—Mrs. Gardiner has arrived,” Hill announced, with a glimmer of approval in her tone, for the lady from Gracechurch Street was ever a favorite.

“Aunt!” Elizabeth cried, crossing the room in delighted surprise. “What an unexpected pleasure!”

Mrs. Gardiner returned her embrace warmly, though with a searching look. “Is it, Lizzy? Unexpected, perhaps—but I rather hoped it would not be unwelcome.”

“Never,” Elizabeth said with feeling. “You must be cold. Let me take your cloak.”

As Hill departed to fetch refreshments, Mrs. Gardiner seated herself near the hearth and removed her gloves with deliberate care, her eyes still studying her niece.

“I might begin with the usual questions—how is your health, and whether Meryton still boasts more ribbons than reason—but I believe I shall come directly to the matter. Your last letters left me... puzzled.”

Elizabeth’s face colored slightly. “Good heavens, what have I written, Aunt? I surely did not mean to concern you.”

“No? That is precisely why I came,” said Mrs. Gardiner, not unkindly.

“Your letters are usually full of wit and detail, but the last two said very little. And when I asked my husband, he seemed more inclined to read the newspaper than to reply. You know my Edward—when he resorts to nothing but ‘Yes, dear’ and ‘No, dear,’ there is usually something rotten yet to give off a scent. And that, as you well know, is never a good sign.”

Elizabeth could not help but smile, though it was a wistful one. “You are right to come. And I am grateful you did—though the crisis has passed.”

“Then there was a crisis, was there not?”

Mrs. Hill returned at that moment with a tray of tea and currant scones, which she placed neatly on the low table. Elizabeth waited until the door had closed again before replying.

“There was, Aunt. A private matter involving Papa... and a cards debt of honor.”

Mrs. Gardiner gave a short, composed nod. “A gambling debt? You call that ‘honor’?”

Elizabeth met her gaze squarely. “Yes. It was a considerable one. It came to light a fortnight ago when Father’s solicitor wrote to me. I feared greatly for what it might mean for us all. It was settled only recently—through the intervention of... of a friend.”

Mrs. Gardiner reached for her tea but did not drink. “A friend. You do not mean Sir William. Or was it Mr. Partridge from Moorleigh?”

“No. None of them,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Mr. Darcy.”

At that, her aunt’s eyes widened. “Mr. Darcy? I do not recall hearing the name. Does he reside in Meryton?”

“No, Aunt. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, in Derbyshire. He came to the neighborhood with a friend—Mr. Bingley—who has recently let Netherfield Park.”

Mrs. Gardiner gave a thoughtful hum, setting her teacup down. “I see. And this Mr. Darcy—he resolved the debt?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said, her voice softer still. “But in a manner that preserved my father’s dignity, and without any claim or boast. It was done... honorably.”

Her aunt regarded her in silence for a moment, then gave a small, knowing nod. “I imagine there is more to this story than a mere financial kindness.”

Elizabeth glanced down at her hands, folded now in her lap. “There may be.”

Mrs. Gardiner did not ask for details—but the arch of her brow certainly did.

Elizabeth inclined her head. “Papa had no means of repayment, and the consequences would have been ruinous. Mr. Darcy managed the matter with both discretion and delicacy.”

Mrs. Gardiner leaned back, astonishment plain upon her features. “And he simply offered—?”

“One thousand and twenty pounds,” Elizabeth said softly, but with quiet emphasis.

“Oh—as much as that? Out of the blue?” Her aunt’s brows arched further. “As I know your father, he would never have uttered a word of complaint before a stranger—let alone request assistance. That is remarkably generous. What is he, then? A banker?”

Elizabeth smiled faintly. “No, not a banker.”

“I imagined as much. A man so free with his fortune would be ruined within the month—unless he has bottomless pockets or estates to match.”

“This gentleman has an estate,” Elizabeth replied simply. “It is said to be the largest in all Derbyshire.”

Mrs. Gardiner stirred her tea with unnecessary care. “As logic has it, helping a gentleman in distress is a noble thing. But offering such a sum, setting no terms, asking nothing in return—that suggests something more.”

“Papa offered to accept this money as a loan. Mr. Darcy kept his position that the sum was won fair and square.”

“So—how old is this Mr. Darcy?”

“Six and twenty, I believe, Aunt.”

“A bachelor, no doubt.”

Elizabeth gave a cautious nod, wary of her aunt’s rising curiosity.

“Has he met Jane? He must have fallen under her spell—every gentleman does. You know she is a perfect angel for any man of sense.”

“No, Aunt. That cannot be. His friend, Mr. Bingley, is the one so enchanted.”

“Ah,” said Mrs. Gardiner, tilting her head. “And I doubt he acted merely at his friend’s request. Then it must be something—or someone—else.”

Elizabeth hesitated. “He did seem to enjoy Mary’s singing.”

Her aunt cast her a dry look over the rim of her teacup. “Lizzy, you do try my patience.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Forgive me—I only meant that he remarked on her voice. He said little else that evening.”

“But he said something,” Mrs. Gardiner returned, setting her cup down. “And more importantly—he acted. Substantially. That speaks of more than mere civility.”

Elizabeth’s smile faded, levity giving way to reflection. “I know. And I cannot pretend to understand his motives fully. He is not a man easy to read.”

Mrs. Gardiner leaned in gently. “But do you trust him?”

Elizabeth turned her gaze to the fire. “I do not believe he would ever act dishonorably. He is proud—yes—but also principled. He disguised the sum given to Papa as money lost at cards, so that no shame should fall upon our family. In truth, it was Charlotte Lucas who spoke to him of Papa’s troubles.

” She paused, then added more quietly, “And as for Mr. Darcy… I have seen glimpses of something finer beneath his severity.”

Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes softened. “Then I begin to think he may not be acting without some quiet hope.”

Elizabeth said nothing—only sipped her tea with sudden care. When she at last spoke again, it was with a touch of wonder in her voice.

“He baffled me at first, Aunt. I hardly knew what to make of him. But I have since learned a great deal more.”

Mrs. Gardiner was silent for a moment, then leaned forward, her tone lower. “And this assistance he offered—have you ever thought it was given for your sake? Indirectly, by helping your father.”

Elizabeth hesitated, then gave a slow nod. “He never said so, but I believe it might be. And I believe also that it was not done with the expectation of any reward.”

Mrs. Gardiner looked thoughtful. “And how do you feel toward him now, Lizzy?”

There was a long pause as Elizabeth turned her teacup in her hands.

“I do not know,” she said finally. “He puzzles me. There are times I feel I understand him entirely—and others, not at all. But I know this: I respect him more than I ever imagined I could.”

Her aunt regarded her with something like satisfaction. “That is no small thing.”

They sipped their tea in companionable quiet for a moment.

“And what of Mr. Bingley?” Mrs. Gardiner asked at length.

Elizabeth’s face softened at once. “He was devoted to Jane all evening at the ball. Danced with her, spoke with her, scarcely looked elsewhere.”

“Then we may hope?”

“I believe so. Jane... is not a girl to wear her heart on her sleeve, but I have seen her blush more in the last week than in all her life before.”

“By the way, where is Jane?”

“She is with a neighbor—Mrs. White’s daughter has just had her first child. Mary is in the garden, copying verses.”

“And the other sisters?”

Elizabeth gave a rueful smile. “They accompanied Mama to London this morning. I cannot say the house feels the poorer for their absence.”

“Indeed,” her aunt said drily. “Well, I am glad to have come, if only to see you all with my own eyes. But I think I shall remain a few days. I may yet coax Mr. Bennet into parting with a few details he has kept from me.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You might try. He is in his study at present. Do ask him how Uncle Phillips uncovered the knaves who persuaded Papa to extend them that ill-considered loan—until the sum ballooned into a debt beyond reason. They were, at last, brought to justice.”

Mrs. Gardiner stood, moved to the window, and looked out upon the lawn, where the roses had begun to fade.

“Promise me this, Lizzy,” she said gently. “If your heart inclines toward this Mr. Darcy, promise me you will not let prejudice blind you—or family chaos deter you.”

“I promise,” Elizabeth said softly.

And for a moment, the future felt not quite so uncertain after all.

***