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“A little of each,” replied Fitzwilliam, affecting a shrug. “Why is Elizabeth not coming?”

Darcy smoothed out the creases he had made to Elizabeth’s letter. “My ‘agreement’ with Mr Bennet precludes her joining me in such a daring setting.”

“The poor girl! With her beauty and charm, Elizabeth would be the belle of the ball!”

“Of course.” Darcy needed no reminder of her enchantments.

“What was it you told me? Bennet fears you will tire of her because it was the chase you enjoyed.”

Darcy bitterly regretted having opened himself, and his best brandy, so fully to his cousin the night after he first returned to London.

Now Fitzwilliam leant back and folded his arms, looking as insufferable as Darcy had ever thought him.

He nodded and looked away, irritated that he could indeed recall Bennet’s exact words: ‘You are a man accustomed to order and obedience. If you wish to marry my daughter, you can wait a few months’ engagement.

Let patience and constancy be your guide. ’

“I take it he still has doubts about your intentions?”

“Not only does he remain disinclined to think this a lasting affection, he does not trust his daughter at a house party,” he grumbled, recalling Mr Bennet’s officious pronouncement that one or both of the couple would come to regret their choice.

“He is an odd man, you have said.”

“An obstinate man with a perverse sense of humour.” Darcy swallowed the urge to ride to Longbourn and make off with his beloved. “He holds to his belief that Elizabeth and I should have some time apart to gain clarity.

“It will ‘cure us’,” he added in a low voice. “As if we are sick or ailing.”

Fitzwilliam sank into his favourite chair. “You are lovesick, Darcy, and oddly ineffectual in claiming your prize and taking her to the altar.”

“She is not a prize!” He stepped to his desk, opening a drawer to drop Elizabeth’s letter inside. “ She is not a prize to be won, but a woman to be cherished.”

“Aye, a fact which took you far longer to recognise than it did me. But then, you have always been too reserved. Elizabeth’s open nature is opposed to your own.”

Darcy returned to the window and stared out at the carriages moving past slowly in the rain. “As is that of many of my friends—Bingley, yourself...”

“Exactly.” Fitzwilliam lowered his voice. “Have you considered that perhaps Mr Bennet is not alone in these directives? That he may see some reluctance in the daughter he has raised for the past twenty-one years?”

Darcy reared on his cousin. “You are insinuating that it is Elizabeth who wishes to postpone our life together?”

“Perhaps. The flush of first love fades, as we have seen in many a marriage.”

“You speak of your own fickleness with ladies, Fitzwilliam. Elizabeth feels as strongly for me as I do for her.”

“Can she truly be as ardent and desperate as you, Cousin? You stomp about, you brood. She is a happy heart, and you are happiest when?—”

“—When I am with her.” Darcy stared at him, incredulous.

Beyond a brief visit in December when Elizabeth had come to London, his cousin had not seen them in company since Rosings, when she was angry about his role in separating her sister from Bingley—information she knew only because of Fitzwilliam’s careless gossip.

“You are treading a thin line. I am accustomed to Saye whinging on, scolding me and every man who ever loved a woman, for insipidity and ignorance. Yet you, who have never known reciprocal love and understanding, claim to know Elizabeth’s heart better than I.”

Darcy could see his words wounded his cousin, but he frankly did not care. He had worked to win Elizabeth’s heart, while Fitzwilliam’s own heart remained untouched.

“I fail to see why you are here,” he added. “Rather than commiserating, you appear bent on telling me I do not deserve Elizabeth.”

“You wished for my counsel?” Fitzwilliam’s gaze hardened. “Here it is. Elizabeth is of age, is she not?”

Darcy nodded.

“Make off with her and marry her. Otherwise, if she is reluctant, more worried for her father than for you, then it is time to give another man a chance.” He leapt up and walked to the door, keeping his back to Darcy and his expression hidden, before he turned around and flashed a grin.

“Sometimes the groom is the bigger problem than the father.” Chuckling to himself—for certainly his joke had fallen flat with Darcy—Fitzwilliam slipped out of the door.

“Ridiculous man!”

Elizabeth was less accustomed to her mother’s anger than she was to her nerves and effusions, her silliness and her laughter.

Not since Mr Collins’s engagement to Charlotte had Mrs Bennet’s temper risen to such furious outpourings as were inspired by Mr Bennet’s refusal to allow Elizabeth to travel to the house party.

“An earl’s estate! A house party at the manor house of Matlock, with a viscount! What is he thinking?”

“He is not, Sister.”

Elizabeth sat with her mother and Kitty in her aunt Philips’s parlour, whiling away the afternoon—away from Longbourn, away from her father, and away from the half-written note she must send to Lady Aurelia.

Having already poured out her frustrations in a letter to Darcy, she wondered whether he might now think her prone to her mother’s temperament.

Aunt Philips leant closer to refill her niece’s cup.

“Your mother tells me how many letters you receive from Mr Darcy. A letter every day. There is no greater sign of his devotion to you and his dedication to your father’s rules.

” Sitting back in her chair, she looked at her sister and raised an eyebrow.

“It is an unfortunate time for Mr Bennet to assert his authority. ”

“He allows Lizzy all the latitude she wants in her walking and reading, but in this—her future? He is implacable, dismissing my pleas and demands that she go! Denying her a house party at an earl’s estate!

Her future uncle!” Pausing her exhortations in the face of her daughter’s silence, Mrs Bennet renewed her violent attentions to her handkerchief.

“A terrible insult to his favourite!”

Fearing only apoplexy or acquiescence would calm the conversation, Elizabeth tried to reassure her mother she could endure Mr Bennet’s insult.

“It is to be only a small party, hosted by Mr Darcy’s married cousin and comprised of his cousins and friends and their intended brides and their companions. ”

Kitty, who had been as eager to visit her aunt for the apple tarts as she was for the wealth of promised gossip, looked up from her plate. “Is it near Mr Darcy’s estate?”

“My father made me aware that only eight miles separate Matlock from Pemberley.”

Aunt Philips nodded sagely. “Ah, he does not trust you or Mr Darcy.”

Mrs Bennet waved her tattered handkerchief; a bit of lace flew off and fluttered slowly to the carpet. “He trusts his books, where the words never change from their places on the page.”

Elizabeth was surprised at her mother’s keen understanding of a man too irascible to allow her in his library, let alone his heart.

“You should be married now, Lizzy, but Mr Bennet has denied you that privilege and now denied you the opportunity to make the acquaintance of those you must befriend and impress.”

“We have spent enough of our visit discussing my troubles. All will be well in the end, once Darcy and I are wed,” said Elizabeth, though she felt no such equanimity.

Aunt Philips smiled sympathetically. “Society was never going to be easy in its welcome, but this delay of your wedding could raise questions for some.”

“Lizzy is not some simple country girl!”

“I am not.” She smiled at her mother for her quick defence and thought of all the words Darcy had used to express his admiration for her over the past few months. ‘Simple’ was not among them.

“Papa dreads your marriage, Lizzy. He will be left with only Mary and me for conversation.” Kitty sighed dramatically. “Perhaps Jane and Mr Bingley will take me to London.”

“Kitty, no one cares for your troubles. It is Lizzy’s we must fix!

” Mrs Bennet turned towards Elizabeth and patted her knee.

“If the rest of Mr Darcy’s family is like his aunt, then you truly must be out in the world, in their midst, to exhibit all that Mr Darcy admires and that your father boasts of but cannot bear to part with. ”

“Lady Catherine is rather singular among Mr Darcy’s relations,” said Elizabeth.

“As is Mr Collins among yours,” murmured Aunt Philips, prompting a guffaw from Kitty .

Mrs Bennet had not finished sharing her thoughts. “I do not doubt Mr Darcy’s affections for you, but I suspect society has wondered at his absence from your company, and why you have not been in London.”

Although her mother’s well of common sense was never deep, on this point, she had a good understanding of societal expectations.

“Mr Darcy is not required to make my excuses for me. I shall write to Lady Aurelia and explain. If I cannot attend, he may choose only a brief visit for himself.”

As she anticipated, Mrs Bennet would not abide such an ending.

“You shall attend this house party,” she cried. “You must be seen in company with Mr Darcy. If it leads to a hastier wedding, so be it. You may be his intended, but you must secure him before another lady uses the gathering to impose herself on him.”

“He would never?—”

“Mr Darcy may be a paragon, but his engagement to a lady no one has met may not be taken as seriously by society’s matchmakers as he means it.” Aunt Philips looked well-pleased with her prediction of her niece’s ruin.

“He will not be tempted. He is not a fool like other men.” Mrs Bennet gave Elizabeth a maternal smile before turning to her sister. “Did you not receive a letter from Aunt Boothe, requesting a visit from her nieces?”

Aunt Philips gave her an odd look. “Yes, you recall that Mr Philips has agreed I should leave the day after tomorrow.”

“I shall join you there, for perhaps a fortnight. Lizzy may not have Mr Bennet’s blessing for a trip to Matlock, but she has always been good company to Aunt Boothe.” She gave Elizabeth a meaningful look. “You will go with us to Bletchley.”

Elizabeth’s startled expression matched that of her aunt. With an uncertain expression, Mrs Philips said, “I had planned on a week’s stay with our aunt.”

“We shall stay on longer,” Mrs Bennet announced firmly.

Elizabeth shook her head. “My father will not sanction my absence from Longbourn.”

“Aunt Boothe’s household is more limited than Longbourn!” cried Kitty. “She lives with only a cook and a maid, and she reads poetry to her goat.”

“Her cow is fond of sonnets,” replied Mrs Philips. “A stunted thing it is too.”

Elizabeth smiled. “I would prefer to discuss poetry with Mr Darcy.”

“Mama, I should like to go as well.”

“No, Kitty. Your father cannot spare us all.”

Kitty crossed her arms and sniffed. “I wish to see the stunted cow.”

Mrs Bennet turned to her. “Be a good girl and run to Mr Merton’s to choose new ribbons for your blue bonnet.”

Kitty hid her surprise well and rushed for her coat.

When the door had closed, Mrs Bennet leant forward and took Elizabeth’s hand, her eyes gleaming in excitement.

Her resemblance to Lydia in that moment was startling.

“Kitty cannot know of our plan. You and Robbins will take the carriage to Matlock. My sister and I will stay in Bletchley until you return.”

She was shocked and thrilled at her mother’s words. “Papa will never allow such a thing. If he allows you use of the carriage at all.”

“I may not have the talent to hasten your wedding to Mr Darcy, but never let it be said I do not understand your father’s preference for peace and quiet in his own home.

” Mrs Bennet reached for her cup and lifted it to her lips.

“He will more easily spare you for a fortnight than host my aunt and her ear trumpet for a month.”

A mad aunt, a cow, and a series of small deceits in a scheme to ensure my attendance. Already I have a story that will delight my new friends.