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B y breakfast time the following morning, Darcy had received an express from his uncle.

“What does Father have to say?” Richard asked as he slathered sweet butter on his toast.

There was no one present who did not know that Lady Catherine had arrived yesterday and stirred up trouble; therefore, Darcy unfolded the letter and began to read aloud. “ Your aunt, my sister, is here. She is, as you know, unhappy, but then, when is she not?”

Richard chuckled as Darcy continued reading.

“I am to scold you most severely for having the audacity to fall in love with, and I quote, ‘some nobody from an estate that is far too small to produce anything good.’”

Darcy shook his head and blew out a breath before taking a sip of his tea. “It seems,” he said to Richard, “that our aunt truly does not want me to ever visit her again.”

Richard inclined his head in acceptance of the comment as he said, “She should know that disparaging those whom you count as dear is the surest way to not meet with success when hoping to sway you.” His gaze moved from Darcy to Bingley’s sisters, who had stopped whatever conversation they were having when Darcy had started reading.

Both Louisa and Caroline had been, more or less, agreeable to how things stood with Darcy not being available as an option for Caroline’s future, but Richard’s warning was likely wise anyway.

“There are a great many things that Aunt Catherine should know, but does not,” Darcy agreed and then turned his attention back to the missive.

“ I will not lie, Darcy. This document that she has in her possession looks damning. We will, of course, need to deal with it, but I have been made perfectly aware that you are not in favour of holding to the agreement as written.” Darcy huffed in disgust. “Because I did not sign it!” he replied to his uncle’s letter.

“It is odd, is it not, that she found that document at such a fortuitous time?”

It was not the first or even sixth time that Richard had said something similar since yesterday afternoon. And Darcy knew that it would not be the final time it would be said until they solved the mystery of how that document had lain undetected in plain sight for so many years.

“Indeed, it does,” Darcy agreed as he scanned the rest of the letter, which was only a line or two.

“Your father will be here in time for dinner. I am to advise my host that he and his wife will require accommodations, and I am to present Elizabeth to him before he sits to eat. If I wish to invite her father and family to dine with him, it would be welcome, but he has deferred that decision to me.”

Bingley clapped his hands. “That is excellent news. Send an invitation to Longbourn right away. I will see that the cook knows to prepare for a dinner party.”

“A dinner party?” Caroline cried. “One cannot just decide in the morning to have a party in the evening. The preparations for such a soiree can be extensive!”

“It is as if our brother has never seen how much work goes into such a thing,” Louisa agreed. “It is enough that we will have to prepare for guests.” She favoured her brother with a withering look before turning to Darcy. “Did my lord say if his sister was to be in his party?”

Darcy shook his head. “He did not.”

Louisa’s eyebrows rose. “I suppose we shall just have to prepare in case she is.” She turned to Caroline. “This is why gentlemen should not be in charge of arrangements. They so often forget things which are of great importance.”

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Hurst said drolly from behind his cup of coffee. “We men are such forgetful creatures. It is a wonder we survive when left alone.”

While Richard chuckled softly at Hurst’s words, Darcy knew that Louisa was correct. They should prepare as if they were going to be hosting the full Fitzwilliam family, minus the viscount, that is.

“If Lady Catherine does accompany Lord Matlock, she will have my cousin Anne with her,” he said. “It is best to prepare for four guests from town with their servants, and eight from Longbourn for dinner.” He gave a nod to Bingley, who scampered from the room to find his cook.

“I will extend the invitation to the Bennets and their guest in person just as soon as your brother is available to accompany me,” he continued, looking first to Louisa and then Caroline.

“May I join you when you go to Longbourn?” Georgiana asked.

Darcy smiled for the first time since he had awoken. “I would be delighted to have you go with me. After all, I could not with a clear conscience deny you such a pleasure.”

At this, Louisa snorted, and then, after being glared at by her husband, she coughed. “Pardon me,” she said. “There must be some dust in the air.”

“Ah, yes,” Richard said with a small chuckle, “dust in the air can be quite unsettling to the system.” He rose from his place. “I think I shall prepare myself to accompany you, Darcy. Do not leave without me.”

“I will make sure he remembers.” Georgiana cast a teasing look in her brother’s direction.

“And I will be glad for the reminder,” he replied. “There is a good bit on my mind at present.” He finished his tea and upon returning his cup to the table asked, “Are you finished?”

Georgiana shook her head. “I will be soon, but please, do not feel as if you have to wait for me.”

“Are you certain?” He was not sure if leaving his sister with Caroline and Louisa was the best thing to do.

Hurst cleared his throat, catching Darcy’s attention.

When Darcy made eye contact with the fellow, Hurst gave a small nod of his head and then tilted it toward the door.

Darcy gave a nod of his own in acceptance of the offer to see that Georgiana was treated well in his absence and only then, left the room.

“If Collins did not send any letters to Aunt Catherine,” Richard whispered when Darcy entered the hall, “how did she know that you were calling on someone?”

“I do not know.” But Darcy had to admit that it was a good question. “I thought you had gone to prepare to make a call?”

“I have. It is just that I needed to speak to you before I did, and I did not wish to talk about this in front of the others,” Richard explained as he fell into step with Darcy and began to ascend the grand staircase.

“You realize, of course, that there is only one other person who would be interested in seeing that supposed betrothal of yours enforced, for there is only one other person who knows about it.”

Darcy’s brow furrowed. “Do you mean one of Bingley’s sisters?” They were catty and conniving at times, but he could not see either of them causing a stir like this, for it would do nothing to create an opportunity for Caroline to shift her attentions from Mr. Warren back to Darcy.

“No, no, not them. They seem quite happy with how things were left between Mr. Warren and Miss Bingley after the ball. There is someone else. A thoroughly rotten scoundrel who would do anything to see your name tarnished and your happiness destroyed.”

The comment brought Darcy’s movement to a stop. “Wickham?” The thought was startling but not without merit.

Richard nodded slowly. “He knows the details better than anyone other than you, me, and my father, and as Miss Mary mentioned yesterday while we were discussing the possibility of the papers being falsified, it would need to be someone with at least a little knowledge of how legal papers were crafted. I had not thought that Wickham attended even one lecture on the law or completed enough of his schooling to have learned anything, but his father…”

“Who, being an attorney before he was Pemberley’s steward, was well versed in drawing up documents for my father,” Darcy concluded. “And Wickham likely saw enough to learn what was needed should he ever need it.”

“Precisely,” Richard said. “I would not be surprised to discover that the man can sign a paper with your name or that of your father. He is good at playing a part. Why would he not also be good at pretending while holding a pen?”

Darcy blew out a breath. There seemed to be no getting rid of the pestilence which was George Wickham. But why would he do something like this? It made little sense. There was no sum of money to be gained.

“What does he get from the arrangement?” he asked, putting his misgivings into words.

Richard shrugged. “Perhaps he hoped to separate you from Miss Elizabeth before you were betrothed? Or perhaps he thought you would be duty bound to commit to an arrangement that would see you miserable for the remainder of your days?”

Those did seem like reasonable motivations, but Wickham had always been about gaining money and position above all else.

“There is no monetary gain for him in it,” Darcy protested.

“At least, none that we can see,” Richard amended.

His cousin had a point. It was best not to cast aside the idea because a trail to ill-gotten gain was not obvious. Wickham’s motivation could purely be to cause misery.

“Perhaps he thinks that if you are miserable, then, you might be more inclined to be generous to him,” Richard suggested.

“That makes no sense. If anyone knows that I am less agreeable when miserable, than I am when in a good humour, it is George Wickham.”

“I suppose that is true,” Richard agreed, “but he fancies himself a charmer of one and all, and it might be your wife on whom he hopes to ply his wiles.”

To Darcy, that sounded just like something Wickham might try. Not that it was an idea which would work, of course. “He has never been known to win very often when playing a game of chance, has he?”

“No, he has not. Chance and skill are not his friends,” Richard answered.

“I believe I might have to disagree with that somewhat,” Darcy said. “For he seemed to win often enough when it came to my father.” Darcy’s hand rested on the doorknob of the door to his bed chamber as a thought struck him. “Do you suppose he has done this before?”

“Falsifying documents?” Richard asked for clarification.

Darcy nodded.

Richard shrugged. “There is a chance I suppose.”