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Gregory proceeded to set the curricle in motion once again.

Mary was content to remain in silence, simply feeling her betrothed’s presence beside her.

It was hard to believe that she was once again engaged to be married.

Yet, at the same time, it was the most natural thing in the world. She belonged next to Gregory Worsley.

As soon as that thought passed through her mind, she remembered that Gregory Worsley had another name. He was also Earl of Pendleton, heir to the Marquess of Glyndebourne.

“Gregory,” she said hesitatingly, “Is there something else you need to tell me? Perhaps something I might need to know as your future wife.”

His expression became a bit sheepish. “I am afraid the conversation got away from me,” he said.

“I was simply so happy to have you in my arms at last. You are right. There is something important I need to tell you. It may even change your mind about marrying me, though you seem to already know about it.” He glanced at her questioningly.

“What I know or do not know is of no matter,” said Mary sternly. “We both know that I should hear it from your own lips.”

Gregory sighed. “I am the oldest son of the Marquess of Glyndebourne. My courtesy title is Earl of Pendleton,” he said. “Though I am the owner of most of the land around Eastbourne, my family’s land, the land attached to the title of Marquess, is in West Sussex.”

“Thank you for telling me,” said Mary.

“You do not seem surprised,” he said. “I suppose you must have heard it in London. It isn’t exactly a secret, but neither my father nor I spend much time in London, so we aren’t as well-known as some others.

I have gone by Worsley my whole life. Though most of the ladies of London know who I am, simply going by Mister instead of Earl tends to make people treat me differently than they would if I insisted on using my title. ”

A few moments of silence passed. “Do you still wish to marry me?” Gregory asked hesitatingly. “I know you have no desire for or pretension to a title. Social power means little to you.”

“I did hear of your title in London,” said Mary.

“Lady Matlock informed me of it. I have had five months to get used to the idea, so of course I do not wish to change my mind. I only wonder that you would want someone like me as your wife. I am hardly elegant, not particularly sociable, and not even particularly pretty. Not exactly what one imagines as a countess or marchioness.”

Again, Gregory stopped the curricle and faced her.

“You may not fit society’s image of a noble Lady,” he said, and Mary felt a pang, but he continued quickly.

“I do not see that as a bad thing, however.

I have always wanted a wife who would help me take care of the people in my domain, not someone who would simply laud their own superiority.

“Eastbourne, in particular, is quite difficult to manage, because the tenants change from year to year and even season to season. I will need your help, your pragmatic approach to charity, even your knowledge of business. You are perfectly suited to be my wife in personality and manner. As far as looks go, I have always loved to look at you. Your brown eyes, usually so calm and thoughtful, are a delight to behold when you are learning something new or discussing a topic of particular interest.”

He placed a hand on her cheek, and for a moment Mary thought he would kiss her again. Instead, he said, “I hardly need to remind you how attractive I find you.” His voice was deeper, and his eyes held the fire of passion that they had held after their kiss.

Mary surprised herself by saying, “Remind me anyway.”

Immediately, his lips were on hers. It took mere moments for him to deepen his kiss, and Mary was once again lost in the feeling of him. There was no doubt in her mind that Gregory desired her very much.

When he pulled away, he said nothing. He merely turned back to the reins and set the curricle in motion.

Once Mary could tell that their breathing was back to normal, Gregory said, “I think we may need a chaperone from now on. It is not usually considered necessary for a widow, but…” He trailed off, and Mary knew what he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“I agree,” she said.

“Is there any way I could convince you to just elope with me? It wouldn’t take long to get a license, you know.”

“It sounds so easy and wonderful and romantic,” said Mary, “but we would regret it in time. If we are to truly become one, if you truly wish me to be a partner instead of a possession, we need to take the time to arrange our financial and legal affairs. We need to involve our families. Additionally, I need time to make arrangements for the care of my tenants here.” She gestured around her at the fields they passed.

Gregory scowled petulantly, and Mary couldn’t blame him. She felt the same way, but she knew she was right. “You are right,” he said. “I don’t like it, but you are right.”

“I don’t like it either,” said Mary quietly. She wanted to feel his kiss again, wanted to be married to him immediately. Instead, she scooted as far away from him as she could on the little bench seat of the curricle.

He chuckled at her, knowing that she was doing what was necessary for both of them.

It didn’t take much longer for them to come back to Braydon Hall. Mary led him inside, so she could share her news with Elizabeth.

The following week was full of visits with family and friends, introducing Gregory as Mary’s betrothed.

It was a time that was both delightful and stressful.

There were moments of wonder as Mary and Gregory discussed their future together.

There were moments of intense embarrassment, such as when Mrs. Bennet crowed loudly at having a future marquess in the family.

They settled on a wedding date of December first, which was the first Sunday of that month.

There was much to be done in the interim.

Though Mary didn’t need to buy a great deal of wedding clothes, since she was a widow, she did need some.

Some of her evening gowns were not quite suitable for the wife of an earl.

Fortunately, Mary did not need to make a special trip to London for her new clothes. Much of what she needed could be purchased in Meryton, and for the rest, she sent a letter to her Aunt Gardiner asking her to acquire what was needed.

On October tenth, Mary left her home to visit Eastbourne for a week.

She was fortunate enough to have obtained permission for Kitty to join her on her excursion.

The journey would take one and a half days each way, with a week-long stay in between so that Mary could tour her future home and make any changes she desired.

She also planned to get to know the village better.

Gregory joined her on the trip, though he took a separate carriage to avoid even the appearance of scandal. Elizabeth, however, decided to spend that time at Longbourn, since she did not wish to miss the assembly, nor did she wish to live alone at Braydon Hall.

Elizabeth settled back in at Longbourn easily enough. It was genuinely good to be with Jane again, although Lydia was a bit more demanding of attention than usual, since Kitty was not there to giggle with.

On the day of the assembly, Elizabeth, Jane, and Lydia dressed in their finest gowns and helped each other style their hair in the finest styles. Elizabeth wore pearl hairpins in her hair and a pearl necklace Mary had bought for her in London.

The ladies of the house left in very good time and were among the first to arrive at the assembly rooms in Meryton.

It was one of the few times Mama could be counted on not to dither, because she loved to arrive early so she could see who arrived and when, so she could discuss it all with her friends at a later time.

Everyone noticed when Mr. Bingley arrived. Elizabeth had not met him, but her good friend, Charlotte Lucas, told her about him. “The blonde one in the front of the group is Mr. Bingley,” she said.

“Do you know who the others are?” asked Elizabeth. Other than Mr. Bingley, there was a young lady, a lady in her late twenties, and a man whose red face hinted that he had already had some wine even before arriving at the assembly.

Additionally, there was a tall, very handsome man standing at the back of the group, though his stern face indicated that he was not particularly pleased with his surroundings. Elizabeth felt she had seen him a couple of times in London, but she could not remember who he was.

“I do not know for certain,” answered Charlotte. “I suspect the young lady is his sister. He did mention he had a younger sister. The others, I couldn’t say.”

They did not have long to wait. The group was greeted by Charlotte’s father, Sir William Lucas, who often acted as the master of ceremonies at these kinds of public events. Once he had greeted them, he offered to introduce them to some of the families.

The tall, handsome one immediately declined to be introduced, and he peeled away from the group to go stand by the wall.

The rest were immediately led over to Charlotte and Elizabeth.

Mr. Bingley requested a dance from Charlotte, since he was already familiar with her father.

Elizabeth discovered that both the ladies were sisters to Mr. Bingley, though the older lady was married to the red-faced gentleman, Mr. Hurst.

Before Mr. Bingley moved on to his next set of introductions, he did indicate that his friend’s name was Mr. Darcy.

Elizabeth immediately remembered where she had seen him. He was nephew to Mary’s good friend, Lady Matlock. She had only seen him twice, and both those times were in the Lady’s home. Apparently, he didn’t particularly like circulating among society.

She briefly wondered if Mr. Darcy would remember who she was, but she immediately discarded the idea.

She barely recalled him, and there was no way someone who avoided people as much as he did would remember someone as ordinary as she was.

Elizabeth decided to ignore the man and focus on her own enjoyment instead.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was annoyed. He was happy to accompany his friend, Bingley, into the country, but he had not counted on the fact that his friend was a sociable creature.

This facet of Bingley’s personality meant that there was bound to be much more to this trip than simply hunting, fishing, and riding.

Take this assembly, for instance; Darcy would never have attended an assembly like this on his own, not even in his home county. Now, because of Bingley, he was here amongst strangers whose condition in life was so different than what he was used to. It was decidedly uncomfortable.

As a way of showing respect for his host, he did dance with Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, but then he retired to the edge of the room, simply attempting to bear up under the weight of the noise and the chaos.

Bingley thrived in this kind of environment, but Darcy tended to wither. Well-organized balls were tolerable, though not particularly pleasant. This, however, was a seething chaotic mess of unfamiliar faces, unpleasant odors, and appalling noise.

At one point, Bingley was so overcome with the joy of the evening, he left his dance partner for a few moments, simply to cajole Darcy into joining the dance.

Of course, Darcy refused, but Bingley would not let it go, eventually going so far as to threaten to introduce him to the lady sitting down behind him.

After a very brief glance, Darcy declared her not handsome enough to attract his attention. He may have said something else, but it was not important. What was important was that Bingley then went back to his partner just as the line of the dance was beginning to move again.

Oddly, after Darcy had dismissed the young lady from his mind, his eyes kept being drawn to her. He supposed he was looking more closely at her to determine if his initial judgment had been correct. He also felt that there was something vaguely familiar about her.

So, he watched her as she danced several dances.

He could not place why she seemed familiar, but he did come to the conclusion that his initial assessment was not entirely accurate.

When her face was at rest, there was nothing notable about it, but when she spoke, when she smiled, and especially when she laughed, there was a light of intelligence and life that lit within her, changing her face from something ordinary to something quite out of the ordinary.

Darcy did not ask her to dance. He would never stoop so low as to deliberately court the attention of a simple country miss. He did, however, very much look forward to the next time they might meet in company, so that he could once again enjoy the sight of such remarkable expressions.