Page 27

British Museum

London

Elizabeth tightened her grip on her companion’s arm as she stared at the giant gray stone settled in an alcove.

“It is marvelous, and wonderful, and incredible, and mysterious, is it not?” she said in a rapt tone as she looked up at her companion.

Darcy was, as usual, gazing at her, and she felt her cheeks warm at the intensity in those dark eyes.

“What do you think of it?” she asked breathlessly.

He allowed his gaze to linger on her face for another few seconds and then turned toward the Rosetta Stone, recently carried to England from France, having previously been obtained by a French officer in the Nile region in Egypt.

“It is remarkable,” he agreed, and his deep voice caused her to shiver a little. In spite of the fact that they had been engaged for almost a fortnight now, this was the first time they had been able to enjoy time together alone. Of course, the British Museum was open to the public, and there were other individuals wandering to and fro, some with sketching pads, but at the moment, Darcy and Elizabeth were twenty feet away from anyone else.

For a moment, she wondered whether she ought to spend this precious time speaking to Darcy about Lady Catherine, or Georgiana, or Miss de Bourgh, or their engagement, or a possible wedding. But no, she wanted to forget about all the complexities of her current life and enjoy a little time with the man she liked, admired, and perhaps was even growing to love.

In any case, discussing the Rosetta Stone, and other Egyptian artifacts, and manuscripts, and Sloane’s natural history collection, was valuable, was it not? She had eyes in her head and was well aware that Mr. Darcy was a handsome specimen, with his tall, well-muscled body, pleasing face, and dark curly hair, but it was his mind and character that were most attractive to her, even as she was certain that Darcy cared for her not merely because she was beautiful.

Darcy was now gazing at the Stone and he said, “I am confident one day they will manage to translate it all, which will open up new avenues to understanding hieroglyphics and ancient Egypt.”

Elizabeth squinted at the tiny letters and figures. “I hope they do, as it should help in learning more about the ancient world. Of course, for all we know, it merely records something dreary, like how many bushels of grain were collected over the course of several harvests instead of recounting battles or dynasties.”

“Even that would be interesting, though,” Darcy remarked, gently guiding her away from the giant stone and toward another room which, upon arrival, proved to be full of other Egyptian artifacts. “The history of a civilization is often predicated on its harvests, after all. Famines can result in uprisings, and bounty can bring peace and even apathy. In Roman times…”

Elizabeth found herself filled with delight as her fiancée guided her from one exhibit to another as he spoke knowledgeably about Rome, and Egypt, and the printing press, and the spread of less expensive books. This was yet another reason to think that a marriage between them would be successful.

Yes, her admiration of this man was growing stronger by the day, and she rather thought she might be genuinely in love.

***

Dining Room

Brinton Hous e

London

Evening

Caroline Bingley lowered herself into her seat and folded her hands in her lap as she waited for the rest of the party to settle into their chairs. She had been placed near the foot of the table, and her sister Louisa was across from her, and while these were not important places at the table, she was so honored to be here at all that she did not mind.

Lord and Lady Brinton were wealthy and well connected to a number of noble families in the haut ton, and Caroline had never been invited to cross their threshold before today. She and Louisa had been in school with the youngest daughter of the family, but Emily Haskell had not been friendly to the daughter of a tradesman, and Caroline was amazed that such a slender connection had resulted in such an exalted invitation, especially since Emily herself was not even here today as she was visiting relatives in the Country.

The servants bustled about with dishes and wine, and Caroline helped herself to some of the dishes, though daintily enough that she would not look greedy. She knew herself to have considerable powers of conversation, and she intended to use every iota of her repertoire to please her host and hostess .

“Miss Bingley,” Lady Brinton said, and Caroline turned an attentive eye on the lady of the house.

“Yes, Lady Brinton?”

“I understand that you and my Emily were at school together.”

“Yes,” Caroline said, a smile pinned to her lips. “She is such a lovely young lady and so clever and accomplished as well.”

“Yes, of course she is,” her hostess agreed, lifting her glass to her lips and taking a delicate sip of wine. “Now, I believe that you are friendly with Mr. and Miss Darcy of Pemberley?”

Caroline blinked at such an abrupt change of subject and said, “Yes, very dear friends. I have had the honor of visiting Pemberley more than once, and it is truly a magnificent estate.”

She had, in fact, been a guest at Pemberley twice, but ‘more than once’ sounded better, as if she visited the great estate several times a year or perhaps even more.

“Well then,” Lady Brinton said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “what can you tell us about Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy’s fiancée?”

Louisa, who was chatting courteously with the man next to her, a Mr. Spencer, jerked in surprise and turned an alarmed look on their hostess. Caroline knew that she too looked startled, and mechanically lifted her glass to her lips for a long sip of wine as she recovered some semblance of equanimity.

“Miss Elizabeth is the younger sister of my brother’s fiancée, Jane Bennet,” she said after lowering the glass. “She is quite lovely, though not as handsome as her elder sister.”

“Bennet,” Lady Brinton murmured, tilting her head slightly. “I do not think I have heard that name before.”

“Mr. Bennet is rather an eccentric gentleman,” Louisa said quickly, abandoning Mr. Spencer without compunction. “He dislikes London and chose not to have his daughters take part in the Season.”

“Are there any sons?”

“No,” Caroline said, letting her lips droop a little. “Five daughters and no sons, and the estate is entailed away from the female line.”

“Well, my dear Mrs. Hurst, Miss Bingley, I am certain you understand why I am asking about the whole affair. It is surprising and astonishing that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, quite one of our most eligible bachelors, should offer for a girl of no importance. I assume the girls are not heiresses? ”

“Not a penny to their name,” Caroline said impetuously and then winced at Louisa’s reproving glance.

“They have no money, but they are refined, honorable ladies,” Louisa said firmly.

“I see,” Lady Brinton said, patting her lips with her napkin. “So the rumors that there was some kind of compromise between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet are false?”

Caroline and Louisa looked at one another, and their hostess said, “There is some truth, is there not? Now, my dear ladies, pray do not worry. I have no intention of telling anyone the truth, but I am madly curious. What really happened?”

***

Mr. Donovan’s Office

London

Two Days Late r

The door closed quietly behind the clerk. He was young and had not been apprenticed for long, but it had been plain, in his quiet deference and deft handling of the tea tray, that he had been well trained in preparation. There was little noise in the room, only the clinking of cups against saucers, the ticking of the clock, the rustle of papers, and the roaring of the coal fire which filled the room with pleasant heat.

Bookshelves lined two of the walls, filled with books of law, their leather spines gleaming with oil and gilt lettering. A handful of knickknacks sat at the ends of the rows, the books held in place with carved ivory bookends. Heavy drapes drawn over the windows kept Mr. Donovan's clients' business private, and deep cushioned chairs saw to their contentment.

Despite these attentions to creature comfort, a certain tension filled the room. Darcy was frowning sternly over his tea, Anne sat very still and upright, and Mrs. Jenkinson brushed silently at the hem of her shawl in small repetitive movements. Colonel Fitzwilliam appeared to be the most relaxed, sitting with a small half-smile on his face, as he watched Mr. Donovan poring anxiously over the documents on the heavy oak desk.

The Rosings solicitor was a distinguished-looking man, with gray spangling his brown hair and frosting his temples, gold-rimmed spectacles on his nose and a gold brocade waistcoat under his deep brown coat. These nods to finery seemed rather at odds with his patent concern over what he was reading.

Finally, Mr. Donovan lifted his head and said, “Miss de Bourgh, you are, of course, entirely correct that as of 11 th November, when you attained the age of five and twenty years, you became the legal mistress of Rosings. However, I am uneasy about taking any steps to transfer power to you without Lady Catherine here as well. I am certain you understand.”

“We do understand,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said. “You are afraid of Lady Catherine and thus are disinclined to do something that will make her furious. That is reasonable, as my aunt can be rather intimidating, but legally Anne has the right to take control of the estate, and if you will not act on her behalf, she will be forced to find a man of business who will.”

This direct attack obviously startled the solicitor, who winced openly and said, “It is not that, exactly. It is merely that Lady Catherine…”

“It is exactly that,” Anne said, leaning forward and glaring at the man. “Mr. Donovan, I am well aware that I am putting you in a challenging position, but I hope you understand that my own situation is difficult, too. If Lady Catherine were here, do you think she would agree to follow the requirements of the documents you have in your hands? My mother has a will of iron and desires to rule over everyone in her sphere of influence, and she would doubtless argue that I am not healthy enough to manage the estate.”

Mr. Donovan licked his lips nervously and said, “I had heard that you, erm, most regrettably, have been sickly for much of your life.”

“As a child I was,” Anne said calmly, “but I have been far better these last many years. Unfortunately, Lady Catherine made it obvious by both her words and deeds that she wished me to be weak and fragile so that she could ignore anything I wanted, to the point that I was forced to pretend that I was far more delicate than I truly am.”

Donovan gulped and made rather a point of shuffling papers around on his desk.

“Mr. Donovan,” Darcy said, “you can, of course, refuse to act for my cousin, but if so, we will require that you hand over those documents so that I can carry them to my own man of business, who will have no hesitation in acting for Miss de Bourgh and, if necessary, against Lady Catherine.”

The solicitor coughed, straightened his back, and said, “I will act for you, Miss de Bourgh. You are entirely correct, of course, that Rosings is legally yours, and while I confess to a little uneasiness over your mother’s reaction, I will not allow it to sway me from acting appropriately for you. ”

Anne relaxed for the first time and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Donovan. Let me tell you what I want you to do.”