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“And with the Gardiners, that makes twenty,” said Elizabeth, running her finger down her guest list for the upcoming dinner party.

“Thank heavens all eight of Lord Jonah’s siblings and their spouses cannot attend—we would need to use the large dining room and the windows there face full west—at this time of year, half the table would be blinded by the sun and the other half in darkness! ”

Darcy was still considering the invitations, however. “The Gardiners? Are you certain that is feasible?”

“Why ever not? I’m not speaking of the children, only Aunt Maddy and Uncle Edward.” Suddenly Elizabeth’s animated demeanor melted into exasperation. “Or are you suggesting that my relations are to be hidden away now that your sister is being courted by the son of a duke?”

Had Fitzwilliam not been glancing toward his wife at that instant, he might have thought she was teasing.

However, he recognized her expression from those looks she had cast his way during the early days of their acquaintance.

Casting his mind over their recent conversation, he found himself more puzzled than affronted.

“You mistake me, Elizabeth. I questioned the Gardiners’ invitation only because I believed them to still be in Kent.

Surely you know how highly I regard your aunt and uncle? ”

Fitzwilliam Darcy was not a man to do things by halves. Once Miss Elizabeth Bennet had forced him to face his hypocritical attitudes towards tradesmen, he had done everything he could to eradicate such a failing in his character.

Now he looked on, concerned, as his wife shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead, but eventually she murmured, “Forgive me—I know not why I said such a thing.”

“Not at all—I’m not offended, only concerned that you believe I still harbor such sentiments. ”

Elizabeth stood and threw her hands up in the air.

“But I don’t! I am only being silly and missish.

” She managed a chagrined smile. “I nearly took Tilly’s head off this morning when she asked how I wanted my hair.

Shall I now complain about my nerves so that the transformation into Fanny Bennet is complete?

” Rubbing her forehead again, she cried plaintively, “Soon I shall not be fit to live with.”

Sensing that his wife was experiencing some genuine discomposure of spirits, Will moved to take her in his arms. “No offense to your mother, dearest, but you are nothing like her.”

Unable to repress the tears that suddenly welled up, Lizzy pressed her face into his shoulder and sighed deeply.

“And you are the best man I’ve ever known.

” It took several more deep breaths to steady her emotions before she forced herself to step away.

“Now, I must speak to Cook about the menu. You will consider my idea about hosting a fox hunt and harvest ball at Pemberley in November?”

Seeing her husband’s unenthusiastic expression, she laughed and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Think of it as a way to complete all of your social obligations to our neighbors in the country over a single weekend, rather than stretched out over months.”

Darcy could only chuckle and agree that such an approach would be perfectly in keeping with his own disposition. Even so, he watched Elizabeth leave his study with some uneasiness, still uncertain what he had done to produce such misgivings in his wife.

Elizabeth’s seemingly boundless energy since arriving in London had taken him by surprise.

Though it was only the Little Season, he had found himself escorting her to any number of dinners and balls, exhibitions and lectures.

In addition, Lizzy had thrown herself into her charity work, determined to visit all of those institutions that the Darcy family had traditionally supported as well as several others she wished to add.

Initially, Fitzwilliam had found such devotion pleasing and entirely in keeping with the caring nature that he had long admired in her.

However, he began to question the ambitiousness of her plans after listening to her enthuse about the function she was helping to organize over breakfast one morning.

“Are you certain that you have time for all of this, my dear?” Not wanting to diminish her fervor, he added carefully, “We had only planned to be in town for a few more weeks, after all.”

Elizabeth had merely laughed, assuring him, “And yet, I am determined! I have a list and I am resolved to complete it before we leave.” And with that, she gave her husband a peck on the cheek before fairly skipping out of the room.

Darcy had begun to worry that, despite her assurances, his lively wife had found the quiet life that he tended toward at Pemberley to be too dull for her nature.

Determined to see her happy, he resolved to quell his unsocial tendencies and increase their interactions with the neighboring estates when they returned to Derbyshire; the first step would be to host a harvest ball and fox hunt.

He found that the prospect was much more pleasing now that he could look forward to dancing with his lovely wife.

After a few minutes spent musing over the very great pleasure he derived from seeing Elizabeth in a ball gown, Mr. Darcy turned to his own source of disquiet; an invitation from the Duke of Grafton to dine together at that gentleman’s club.

The Master of Pemberley was not a man given to anxiety over his position in Society, but the prospect of dining with a peer of such elevated status would be daunting to anyone.

In addition, Darcy was well aware that a poor performance on his part might diminish his dear sister’s chances of making a match that appeared to be increasingly necessary for her future happiness.

He had heard his Uncle Henry and Aunt Catherine bemoan the Fitzwilliam family’s inability to gain entrance to Grafton’s intimate circle on a number of occasions; although he would never agree to sacrifice his sister just to increase the family’s connections, he was not insensible to the implications of the match.

Though not of royal blood, the Duke of Grafton’s wealth and properties were extensive, as was the family’s power in politics and Society.

After descending from his carriage, Mr. Darcy paused for a moment to admire the architecture of the building that housed Brooks’, that most exclusive of gentlemen’s clubs.

He, like his ancestors before him, had accepted a membership at White’s as a matter of course, although he rarely visited, preferring the quieter, more intellectual atmosphere of Alfred’s to the notorious gambling rampant in the other.

For the first time, it occurred to Darcy that his discomfort with White’s might also stem from the conflict of his own, more liberal beliefs with those espoused by the other members of what had become the unofficial headquarters of the Tory party.

Presenting his card to the doorman, Mr. Darcy offered, “The Duke of Grafton is expecting me.”

Once admitted, he turned over his coat and beaver to an attendant before following an elderly manservant through the foyer, past several noisy clubrooms and along a quieter hallway to a private dining room. “Mr. Darcy, Your Grace.”

“Ah Mr. Darcy—capital!” exclaimed the Duke, rising from his seat to shake his guest’s hand. “Have you met my eldest, the Marquess of Worcester? Andrew and his lovely wife have only recently arrived in town from Gloucestershire.”

As the two younger gentlemen exchanged courtesies, Grafton turned back to the manservant.

“That will be all for now, Abernathy. Please see that our luncheon is served in a half hour.” Once the servant had acknowledged the order and silently closed the door behind him, the Duke turned back to the two younger gentlemen and offered Mr. Darcy a glass of wine.

“Thank you, Your Grace. And thank you again, sir, for your invitation,” responded Fitzwilliam in a measured tone.

“Of course, of course. Now, let us drink a toast—to new acquaintances,” Grafton raised his glass.

Once the three gentlemen tasted the wine and complimented the vintage, the Marquess focused his attention on his father’s guest. “I hope you don’t mind that I invited myself along, Mr. Darcy. I find it odd that we’ve never met, although I am acquainted with your cousin.”

Worcester was about six years Darcy’s senior, tall and lean with nothing very remarkable about his features except the general appearance of a man who spent a great deal of time out-of-doors.

As they became better acquainted, Fitzwilliam would come to understand that the Duke’s heir was perfectly content with this state of affairs, preferring to fade into the crowd and avoid the ton’s attention whenever possible.

At present, however, Darcy merely inquired as to which cousin the Marquess was referring.

Studying the other man intently, Worcester responded, “Matlock’s eldest, Lord Ashbourne. I was a year behind him at Eton, although I would not say that I was ever particularly well acquainted with him or his friends.”

Darcy did his best to keep the distaste he felt from showing, responding only, “Ashbourne and I have never been particularly intimate. His younger brother, however, is one of my closest friends.”

“Ah yes, that would be the Brigadier General Fitzwilliam—no, it is Sir Richard Fitzwilliam now, is it not?” responded the Duke.

Darcy’s demeanor warmed slightly. “Yes, he is recently retired and gone to work at the War Office.”

However, Worcester proved unwilling to let go of the previous subject. “Some would have expected you to be more intimate with Lord Ashbourne, given that you are both heirs to great estates—he is close friends with Guy Westinghouse—the new Earl of Corning—is he not?”