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“It makes me appreciate my own father even more. Certainly Papa has his faults, but he would never force any of us to marry where we did not wish.” She paused for a moment, thinking of Lydia. “Though I suppose his resolution has never been put to the test… we have been spared that, at least.”

Fitzwilliam pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “We shall keep all our sisters safe, I promise.”

She smiled slightly. “I fear that there is a great deal of chance involved, as we are both well aware.”

Darcy closed his eyes for a moment and offered up a small prayer that he might find the words such that his wife would accede to his request. He knew she would not react well to an order, but he would make it so if it meant keeping her safe.

He turned so that he could look in her eyes and took both her hands.

“Elizabeth, I need you to do something for me that I fear you will not like. ”

She arched one eyebrow but remained silent, which he took as encouragement enough to continue. “I know how much you enjoy your solitary walks… and in the park at Pemberley, you will be safe… but here, in London…”

Seeing how earnest he was, Lizzy replied soberly, “I always leave word where I am going, and while we are in town, I shall not go out without a maid, I promise.” She dimpled, “Of course, I would greatly prefer to have my handsome husband by my side.”

Darcy gave her a small smile but his expression remained grave.

“And at least one footman.” Seeing that she was about to protest, he squeezed her hand and continued quickly, “A maid cannot do much to fight off an attacker.” At her shocked look, he sighed.

“It is not only random cutpurses against whom we must guard. I fear it is quite obvious to anyone who cares to look that I would do anything, pay any amount, to save you if you were taken.”

By now, both of Elizabeth’s eyebrows had risen almost to her hairline. “Kidnappers? You don’t really think…” but she trailed off. Darcy had squeezed her hands tightly and she could tell that he was deadly serious.

“Once, when my sister was just eight, two men attempted to grab her while she was walking by the Serpentine with her governess… on a public path and in broad daylight. It was only thanks to John’s quick reaction and fists that they were not successful.”

Lizzy was shocked into silence for a moment.

“Heavens! Poor Georgiana…” Elizabeth looked up at her husband with sympathy before cuddling up against his chest again.

“Yes, you may assign me a walking companion. You are quite right that I prefer my solitary rambles, but it is better to be accompanied by a servant than not to venture outside at all.”

Darcy wrapped his arms around her, sighing ever so slightly in relief. “Thank you. I fear that such wealth as my family has accumulated brings danger as well as comforts.”

Lizzy smiled wanly, “As long as it comes with you, I suppose I’ll be able to endure it.”

Several evenings later, Drury Lane appeared to go perfectly silent when a sleek black carriage bearing the Darcy coat of arms slowed to a halt before the Little Theatre.

One of the matched bays snorted and began to paw the cobblestones but was quickly reined in.

Even so, the horse’s disquiet broke the crowd’s preoccupation and dozens of voices spoke at once, not a few shamelessly speculating on the new Mrs. Darcy.

Some of the younger ladies determined that she must be quite a fearsome creature to have won the admiration of Mr. Darcy, a gentleman who was widely known to be exceedingly clever and fond of intelligent conversation.

Of course, she would have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing and all the modern languages.

To all this, they imagined, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions.

In short, while there were certainly many members of the audience who were committed to finding fault with Mr. Darcy’s bride, there was an equal number eager to worship her, given even the slightest provocation.

It was one of the latter conversations, whispered among several young ladies in their first season, that the Countess of Matlock overheard while her husband spoke to an acquaintance.

The girls’ conjectures over what Mrs. Darcy might wear (the length of her sleeves and height of her waistline caused particularly fevered speculations) were finally halted by a squeak from one and muted gasps by the others, noises that Lady Eleanor correctly took to mean that her new niece had been sighted.

As a result, the Countess did not require her youngest daughter to draw her attention to the striking couple who had just stepped to the curb.

“Oh Mama, look—the Darcys have arrived. Goodness! Elizabeth looks fabulous!”

Eleanor saw Darcy first, his impressive height allowing her to catch sight of his noble mien from across the hall.

Her nephew had grown from a quiet, slightly awkward youth into an exceedingly handsome man, though his stony countenance often worked to forestall admiration at close quarters.

Tonight, however, his forbidding manner seemed to be almost entirely abandoned.

The crowd parted for a moment and the Countess was able to see why her usually reserved nephew appeared to be almost entirely unaware of the crowd’s attention.

Elizabeth positively sparkled with a happiness that radiated, appearing to glow in the deepening twilight.

She wore an evening gown of light green silk draped with a filmy white overlay whose cut appeared daring without actually revealing more than it should.

A critical eye might have noted that the high-waisted style worked to mask some lack of perfect symmetry in the lady’s figure, but most of the women were too busy ogling the embroidered organza as the light caught its silver threads.

Her hair looked particularly fine, its shiny waves expertly caught up in an exquisite, fan-like comb that gave her classic English complexion a slightly exotic flair.

The couple paused to speak with a gentleman who greeted Darcy as an old friend and appeared particularly eager to know his new bride. Eleanor was just thinking with approval upon her nephew’s happier manners when a much less welcome figure intruded upon the trio.

The Baroness Cutsforth was freshly widowed and on the prowl. Her two elderly husbands had provided her with wealth and a title, in that order, and now she was determined to indulge herself. Unfortunately, in her mourning she had missed the announcement of Mr. Darcy’s marriage.

“My dear Mr. Darcy; it is so good to see you again.” She extended her hand to be kissed but was to be disappointed .

Not for the first time, Fitzwilliam gave thanks that he was no longer single.

Though he barely knew this woman, he easily recognized her type and responded with a nod that was only marginally polite before introducing his wife.

Out of the corner of his eye, he observed his friend Durnsby effect an escape with only a marginally apologetic glance.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth was doing her best to control her mirth. The woman before her was clearly flabbergasted to find that one of England’s most eligible bachelors was suddenly beyond her reach.

The Baroness Cutsforth’s confusion did not last long, however, and she began exercising her famously sharp tongue with more zeal than wisdom. “Why, you must forgive me, Mrs. Darcy, but I cannot think of where we might have met before…”

Elizabeth smiled serenely. “I don’t believe that we have, Lady Cutsforth. My father always preferred his estate in the country to town.”

Their exchange continued along a similar vein for some minutes, as the Baronesses’ increasingly aggressive thrusts were parried with barely concealed amusement by the younger lady.

Lady Matlock was relieved to observe that Elizabeth did not appear overset by the other woman’s effrontery, but even so she prepared to gather her husband and move in the direction of the Darcys.

Before she could do so, however, another personage entered the fray and Lady Eleanor was happily reminded that her new niece was not entirely without her own champions.

“Elizabeth, my dear girl, you look stunning!” exclaimed the dowager Countess Trowbridge, bussing the younger woman’s cheeks.

The elderly lady’s high cheekbones hinted of a youthful beauty that had faded into handsomeness, while her sharp eyes and upright carriage were testament to a forthright nature that admired character and had no tolerance for toadeaters.

“And Mr. Darcy—married life appears to agree with you, sir,” she added, offering her hand to the gentleman. Though her words were perfectly proper, Fitzwilliam found himself fighting not to blush like a schoolboy before his late grandmother’s friend.

Lady Alexandra Hardwick took her time exchanging greetings with Elizabeth, exclaiming over the Gardiners’ new baby and discovering how long the Darcys planned to remain in London, before finally turning to the other woman standing in their midst. The Baroness had remained by them, stubbornly refusing to withdraw from Mr. Darcy’s side even now that she knew him to be married.

“Well, if it isn’t little Miss Chastity McPhee, all grown up!”

That lady’s lips thinned, having spent many years trying to leave her roots behind. The Countess was not finished, however.

Pretending to display the doddering intellect many expected of a woman her age (and which she considered an amusing tool for subterfuge), Lady Alexandra whispered to Elizabeth, “My father always said the McPhees were all tinkers,” loudly enough that titters could be heard from several standing in the vicinity.