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Sir William was out first, beaming with satisfaction at the day’s unexpected harvest of company and immediately signaling for Tobias, the Lucas neighbor who helped as the groom, to see to the horses.

Darcy arrived a moment later, reining in his mount with practiced ease. He dismounted without fuss, and Tobias and his son James—alert and bright-eyed as ever—hurried to attend to the three horses.

Jane, ever thoughtful, drew James quietly aside before he could be swept up in the usual bustle.

“James, would you be so good as to run to Longbourn? Please tell Mama—or Papa, if you see him—that we have been delayed at Lucas Lodge and that Mr. Darcy has joined us for luncheon. We may be rather later than expected home.” She pressed a small coin into his palm, her kindness unmistakable.

The boy’s eyes lit up at the unexpected windfall, but his curiosity won. “Shall I say why, miss? Will they mind?”

Jane’s lips twitched in a secretive little smile as she smoothed the boy’s cap. “I expect they will have opinions, James, but best leave these details to them. Only tell them we are quite safe and not to expect us just yet.”

With a knowing nod, James darted away, swift as a squirrel, already planning to recount the tale—and perhaps embellish it—at the Bennet’s door.

Within the house, Sir William ushered his distinguished guest and the young ladies into the front hall, resplendent with polished wood and the faint, comforting scent of beeswax and baking.

“My dear Lady Lucas, see what fortune has brought us! Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and the Miss Bennets. I daresay Meryton itself is not so well supplied today.”

Lady Lucas, her eyes momentarily widening at the gentleman’s name, sprang into action, issuing instructions with gentle authority.

“Janet, fetch the young ladies from the garden. Maria, Helen, Joan—please be inside at once. Janet, see also that Walter comes down from his books. And do have Roseanne bring up her best sandwiches and perhaps some of those little tarts Mr. Darcy might like after his ride.” Janet nodded briskly and whisked herself away, her tread purposeful on the polished boards.

Meanwhile, within moments, the household was astir: Helen and Joan, cheeks flushed from the garden, appeared breathless and giggling, still clutching the wildflowers they had gathered.

Maria followed, adjusting her sash and whispering conspiratorially to Charlotte.

Walter came last, a little disheveled from some solitary occupation, his manner shy but attentive.

Lady Lucas oversaw the assembly with pride, her family drawn up in a line as Sir William performed introductions with the practiced flourish of a man who had attended court.

“Mr. Darcy, may I present my son Walter, just down from Oxford; my eldest daughter, Miss Lucas—though you know Charlotte, of course—Miss Maria Lucas, Miss Helen, and little Miss Joan. My wife, Lady Lucas, is the heart of our home.” Each curtsied or bowed in turn, Charlotte’s expression wry, Maria beaming, Helen and Joan barely restraining their excitement.

“An honor, sir,” Walter managed a little stiffly, but Charlotte’s gentle smile helped to smooth any awkwardness.

Sir William, still flushed with success, gestured expansively.

“We are a modest household, Mr. Darcy, yet we take great pride in making our guests feel at home. Pray, let us not stand on ceremony today—tea will be in the drawing room, and you shall have the best of Lucas Lodge’s hospitality.

Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, you are always most welcome. ”

In the background, the sound of Janet and Roseanne bustling in the kitchen was reassuring; the aroma of baking and sandwiches had already begun to drift through the hall.

The family, drawn together for such a notable guest, created a scene of warmth and lively respectability—a tableau that might have graced any painting of English domestic felicity.

With everyone thus assembled, the gathering moved en masse to the drawing room, the young ones subdued for a moment by Lady Lucas’s warning glance and the adults keen to begin their gentle sparring of conversation and curiosity—for nothing so delighted the Lucases as the promise of both news and distinguished company.

Once everyone was comfortably arranged in the bright drawing room, Sir William assumed his place with a benign grandeur, taking care that Mr. Darcy should have a seat nearest the hearth.

Lady Lucas directed her youngest girls to perch decorously by her side while Maria, already eyeing the array of seed cakes, made a valiant attempt at mature composure.

Sir William, evidently determined that no occasion for distinction should go unmarked, began with the air of a man bestowing a rare treat.

“It is not every day, Mr. Darcy, that we are honored by the presence of a gentleman of your consequence here in our humble home. But you will find Lucas Lodge to be a house of cheer and, I trust, of true hospitality.” He nodded toward his eldest, “You know Charlotte, our mainstay—so sensible, so accomplished. She manages all here with the greatest efficiency.”

Charlotte, embarrassed but practiced, smiled and murmured, “Papa is far too kind.”

“And my son Walter, recently down from Oxford, as I mentioned,” Sir William continued, beaming at the young man, who managed a polite bow. “A young man of promise—devoted to his studies, but not above helping his sisters and, I daresay, a tolerable hand with a horse.”

Darcy inclined his head with a look of interest. “Oxford is an excellent foundation for a young gentleman, Mr. Lucas.”

Walter colored, unsure whether the remark was meant as encouragement or subtle scrutiny. “Thank you, sir.”

“Maria is our songbird,” Sir William went on, “and the younger girls, Helen and Joan, are daily improving in every accomplishment under Lady Lucas’s care. Our house, I flatter myself, is one of domestic harmony.”

Lady Lucas’s glance suggested she might prefer harmony with a little less volume, but she said only, “Helen and Joan, do mind your posture.”

At that moment, Janet appeared, followed by Roseanne with a generous tray of sandwiches—cucumber and cress on soft bread and, pride of the house, delicate currant seed cakes, the scent of which filled the room.

There was a brief bustle as plates were served, and Sir William, never one to let a guest go unpraised, turned his attention to Jane and Elizabeth.

“And how fortunate we are,” he declared, “to welcome the Miss Bennets. I have always said, Mr. Darcy, that Longbourn is blessed with daughters as accomplished as they are amiable—Miss Jane Bennet, with her grace and sweetness, and Miss Elizabeth Bennet, whose wit is the delight of all Hertfordshire. It is the best sort of neighborhood, is it not, when friendships flourish across the lanes?”

Lady Lucas, whose competitive spirit where daughters were concerned was only exceeded by her desire for social harmony, attempted a mild diversion: “Do try the sandwiches, Mr. Darcy. Roseanne makes them especially for our distinguished guests.”

Mr. Darcy accepted a plate with a quiet, “Thank you, Lady Lucas. They look excellent.” He nodded graciously to each family member as Sir William extolled their virtues, replying to compliments with courteous brevity—“Indeed, a fine house,” “Your daughters are all charm,” “My thanks, Miss Maria”—and listening, if not always responding, to Sir William’s ongoing narrative of local society.

“My good friend Mr. Bennet is often here, of course,” Sir William continued, his eyes twinkling. “We enjoy a game of chess now and then. He is a man of quick wit, though he tries to hide it behind all that talk of books and his library. I dare say you and he, Mr. Darcy, would have much in common.”

“Mrs. Bennet’s company is always agreeable,” Lady Lucas said.

In reply, Mr Darcy offered the briefest hint of a smile.

Jane, always eager to keep peace and kindness, said softly, “My father thinks very highly of Sir William’s judgement in all matters, particularly those relating to the neighborhood.”

Sir William accepted this with satisfaction. “We are fortunate in our friendships, Miss Bennet. It is the families of a place that make its happiness.”

“Indeed,” Darcy replied, setting down his cup, “it is a pleasure to find so much cordiality here.”

For a moment, conversation settled into the cheerful clink of cups and the soft laughter of the younger girls as the Lucas and Bennet families basked in the comfort of familiar company, their hospitality extending even to a gentleman whose presence might have otherwise provoked nothing but awe.

Once the tea things were replenished and a brief lull descended, Sir William cleared his throat with significance, clearly unwilling to let so notable an opportunity slip by.

“Mr. Darcy, we are all so pleased you should favor us with your company. Hertfordshire is seldom honored by the presence of a gentleman from so eminent a family as the Darcys of Pemberley. I have heard your estate is among the finest in Derbyshire?”

Darcy inclined his head. “You are most generous, Sir William. Pemberley is a place I am proud to call home.”

Lady Lucas nodded approvingly. “It is always a pleasure to welcome guests of such standing.” She looked like she might say more, but Sir William pressed on.

“And your friend Mr. Bingley—so much the talk of the neighborhood since he took Netherfield—he is not of Derbyshire, I think?”

Darcy’s countenance grew more guarded, but he replied civilly, “No, sir, Mr. Bingley’s family resided in the north of England. His late father was a man of considerable success and left his children a very comfortable fortune.”

“Indeed, indeed, a fine thing,” Sir William enthused. “There is much talk of him—his manners are admired, and his fortune is quite substantial, I hear.”

Maria, who could not resist a little excitement, said, “Is it true he has five thousand a year, Mr. Darcy?”

Charlotte gave her a look of warning, but Darcy answered mildly, “That is often said. In truth, Mr. Bingley inherited a considerable fortune from his late father, though not an estate. The family’s wealth was gained in trade, and Mr. Bingley is fortunate in having both means and the leisure to pursue a gentleman’s life. ”

After listening with interest, Walter ventured shyly, “Does Mr. Bingley intend to continue in his father’s business, or does he mean to settle as a landowner?”

Darcy paused a moment, considering. “Mr. Bingley’s father had intended to purchase an estate but did not live to do so.

My friend has expressed a wish to find one suitable and make a home there, though, at present, he enjoys the comforts of Netherfield as a tenant.

His education and disposition suit him well for country society. ”

Looking much pleased, Sir William exclaimed, “A fine thing, to be sure! In these modern times, a man’s character marks him, not only his inheritance. Mr. Bingley has all the manners of a gentleman, I daresay.”

Lady Lucas smiled thinly but nodded. “Certainly, my dear. And now, another sandwich, Mr. Darcy?”

Darcy accepted the plate with a slight bow. The conversation drifted to safer topics—leaving a gentle hum of speculation about Mr. Bingley’s future and the true marks of gentility lingering pleasantly among the assembled company.