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Darcy turned to face the Viscount Hampden.

“Trevor, it is good to see you, too.” The two shook hands in the manner of old friends who had been close in school but drifted apart in the passing years.

“How have you been? I’d heard that your mother was ill— I hope that your appearance here tonight indicates she is recovering? ”

“Indeed. We’ve been in Bath for several months and her strength is gradually coming back to her. I’m just in London for a week to attend to some business before returning.”

Michael Trevor and Fitzwilliam Darcy were the same age and had attended Eton and Cambridge together.

Of equal intelligence but different scholarly interests, both had a deep respect and understanding of the other born of similarity in character and position.

While Trevor held a higher rank (and all the duties and obligations that came with membership in the peerage), Darcy had inherited the greater fortune, larger estate, and all the responsibilities that his name entailed.

Trevor was intrigued by the way Darcy kept glancing back to his party. Normally a man who kept his emotions under excellent regulation, it was no great leap for the viscount to guess what had his old friend so distracted.

“So, Darcy… who is that exquisite creature that accompanied you to night? If you are so stupid as to not yet have secured her, I would be much obliged for an introduction…” The frozen look on Darcy’s face was enough to make the other man laugh out loud.

“Easy there, old friend. I shall not poach on your territory… but if you wish a bit of help in defending it from those fools, you might introduce me anyway.” He nodded at the cluster of gentlemen who were still maneuvering for Elizabeth’s attention.

Darcy’s stony face eased a bit and he managed a half smile. Looking down at his shoes, he spoke so quietly that Trevor had to lean in to understand him. “I could use all the help I can get. I have done little enough to please her, and she is no bumblebee.”

His friend chuckled at Fitzwilliam’s use of their old code.

Once, after an evening of fending off society ladies, the two friends had retired with a bottle of port to commiserate over the woes of being a desirable ‘catch,’ surrounded by women who saw only wealth and connections but had no interest in the man within.

Darcy had likened them to brightly colored bumblebees, constantly buzzing around, trying to suck him dry.

Trevor had rejoined that bees had to be brushed aside carefully or they would sting. The nickname had stuck.

With a quick pat on the back, the viscount nudged his old friend forward. “Well then, introduce me, I beg you. If you have managed to find one lady not assignable to the genus Bombus , then it gives me hope that I might yet discover another for myself!”

The two men shared a grin of understanding and then maneuvered their way through the crowd.

They arrived at Elizabeth’s side just in time to hear a pompous young earl speak.

“Oh no, Miss Bennet, I assure you. All of Senior Rossini’s operas are original stories—he would never steal a plot from this Scott fellow you speak of… That would be plagiarism, after all!”

Darcy fought the urge to laugh aloud at the plump gentleman’s error-ridden little speech. Instead, he claimed a position for himself in the circle beside Elizabeth by offering her the glass in his hand. “Miss Bennet, your punch.”

Elizabeth had never been so glad to see Mr. Darcy as she was at that minute. She only barely suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at him. “Thank you, sir,” she said simply but then nearly dropped her glass when that perennially serious gentleman winked at her before turning to greet the others.

“Lord Cowen, I could not help but overhear your statement on Signore Rossini. I believe that if you take the time to read Sir Walter Scott’s poem, the Lady of the Lake, you will recognize the plot from what we have seen staged tonight.

It is quite a common practice for operas; I do not believe that Miss Bennet was accusing the composer of plagiarism but simply commenting on the history of the myth. ”

The young earl was instantly reminded of why he had never particularly liked Darcy and, after a few comments meant to cover his retreat, was soon off to find a young lady who would be properly awed by his charms.

When the others had moved on, Darcy turned to Elizabeth with a more serious look although amusement still danced in his eyes.

“Miss Bennet, may I introduce someone far more worthy of your attention?” At her nod, he continued, “My friend, Lord Michael Trevor, Viscount Hampden. Trevor, it is my honor to present Miss Elizabeth Bennet.”

The young lady turned toward Mr. Darcy’s companion and he blinked at the intelligence sparkling in her eyes. “And what makes you more deserving of my attention, Lord Hampden? Are you truly worth more?”

Trevor blinked again and, tossing a pleased look to Darcy, scrambled to keep up with her word play. “Perhaps not worth more intrinsically, Madam, but I believe I have spent more on that which truly matters.”

Elizabeth nodded with mock solemnity. “Ah yes. What a man spends in consideration of his worth can only raise his value.”

“Except when he concludes himself worth more consideration and abandons his values, perhaps.”

“Of course, but one hopes that such revaluation will lead to revelation , not devaluation.” With this final sally, Elizabeth was distracted by her aunt and turned away.

“Errr… yes, indeed.” Relieved that he had been let off just when he was coming up dry for a witty rejoinder, Trevor turned to his friend and noticed that Darcy looked like a cat replete from a bowl of cream.

With a slight bow, the young lord gestured his capitulation.

“Brilliant,” he said softly. “But do try not to burst your buttons over your pride in her.”

Although he knew that Trevor was not speaking literally, Darcy couldn’t stop himself from sucking in his stomach and checking Hawkins’ re-sewn buttons, although he need not have worried.

Before he could respond, Elizabeth turned back and gracefully introduced the Gardiners and Mrs. Emma Watson who nodded approvingly at the two young men.

The six entered into a lively and insightful discussion of the first half of the opera and even Darcy was surprised when the bell was rung, indicating that the intermission was coming to an end.

Trevor excused himself and returned to his own group, though not before admitting quite honestly that he would have preferred to remain with Darcy’s party.

Fitzwilliam found himself beside Mr. Gardiner mounting the stairs, trailing behind the ladies as they continued discussing one of Mrs. Watson’s charity ideas.

He was pleased when they all settled into his box in their original seats.

Although it was an effort to keep himself under good regulation, every moment spent at Elizabeth’s side seemed a blessing .

Darcy had just drifted into a daydream in which he and Elizabeth were attending the opera as husband and wife when his ankle was tapped by a slipper-covered foot.

“What do you think, Mr. Darcy?” Suddenly Fitzwilliam was keenly aware that Mrs. Gardiner was looking at him expectantly, even as Elizabeth’s eyes were laughing with mirth.

Swiftly deciding that honesty was the better part of valor, he admitted his inattention. “I apologize, Mrs. Gardiner; I fear I was woolgathering. What was your question?”

Unlike many of Darcy’s acquaintances (and relatives) who would have used his poor manners as either an excuse to take offence, or an opportunity to remonstrate him as if he were still a schoolboy, the Gardiners merely laughed jovially.

“It is no great matter, sir. You are quite as bad as Mr. Bennet for losing track of conversations!”

Unaccustomed to such easy manners, Darcy was readying himself to apologize more profusely when the curtains began to rise and the orchestra signaled the second act to begin. Elizabeth must have caught sight of the disturbance in his emotions because she leaned over and patted his arm.

“Do not concern yourself, sir. We were merely discussing the difficulties of wounded soldiers and sailors returning from the wars; not only in recovering from their injuries, but finding work for which they are fit. My Aunt wondered if your cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, had mentioned anything about it.”

Fitzwilliam snuck a peek at Mrs. Gardiner and it appeared to him that the lady seemed perfectly unconcerned. Still, he was anxious. “I must apologize again. It was impolite of me not to attend to her conversation.”

“Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth firmly. One glance told him that, were they not in a quiet theatre, her laughter would be ringing like silver bells.

“Truly, you have met my family. Not attending to a conversation is a necessary survival skill in the Bennet household. If one carefully attended to each and every word, any sensible person would go quite insane… or perhaps just become very, very silly.”

Partially convinced, Fitzwilliam nodded his head slightly. “Still, your aunt and uncle are intelligent, interesting people and I did not mean to be disrespectful.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and, wishing to put an end to Mr. Darcy’s guilt and turn her full attention to the performance, spoke softly but with absolute certainty.

“Mr. Darcy, as you have just noted, my aunt is an intelligent, sensible person. Respect her ability to discern between an intentional slight and an unintentional lapse in manners. They are very different things, as you well know. Now, if we do not turn our full attention to the players, we ourselves will be guilty of the very offence which you seem intent on blaming yourself. ”