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After their evening meal, Jane and Elizabeth retired to their room.

The boarding house was clean, if not opulent, and they were happy to find it.

They were not far from the Gardiners, in Cheapside.

The other lodgers were also employees of Selfridges, and that is how they found the place—through their fellow workers.

Although they loved their aunt, uncle, and the children, it was a relief to get out and be on their own. That, after all, was the whole point.

Besides, the place felt like home. A white tablecloth always covered the long dining table, and Mrs Clarke was a good cook.

The fare was simple and plentiful, and room and board did not take all their salaries.

The dining room had been papered since the Victorian era, thankfully, and was white with a pattern of climbing roses rather than something dark and dreary.

Lizzy pretended it was a garden in the presently bleak winter months.

Their room stood on the second floor and looked over the mews, so they were spared the street noise.

They shared a cupboard, and a large bed against the outer wall with a window on either side.

Mrs Clarke provided them with a desk and two chairs, which fitted in the small space, almost comfortably, and Elizabeth was grateful that they didn’t have to sit upon their bed while reading or writing letters.

All in all, the place was most satisfactory.

They usually took the Underground to work along with most of the rest of London, it seemed to Lizzy.

The crush of people was something new to the two of them, but not unpleasant.

Yes, all in all, Lizzy was pleased. Jane, however, removed her shoes and lay down on her bed with a sigh.

“ Whatever is the matter? Are you ill?” Lizzy looked up from the desk where she penned a letter home to her family.

“ Oh, I suppose I’m just being silly. After all, I didn’t even speak to the man, or even know his name.” Jane peered at Lizzy and scowled. A scowl made her look prettier than ever. “Now, don’t you laugh at me.”

“ I’m not laughing. Really, I’m not. So, do you think this was a case of ‘love at first sight’?”

“ Oh, you are laughing at me.” Jane grinned. “You might as well. I don’t know what I’m thinking. I’ll probably never see him again. He may even be a foreigner here on holiday. After all, everyone comes to Selfridges.”

“ A foreigner. Honestly, Jane. Such drama. I saw him talking with Mr Selfridge. He probably resides here in London. I saw the way he looked at you. He will be back, and he will inquire after you. And after a suitable time, perhaps a week or two, you will be married and then you can start having all those children you want.” Lizzy laughed.

Jane threw a pillow at her, but it landed at her feet. “Oh, you.”

Lizzy turned her attention to the post that had arrived for them today.

There was a letter from her mother, addressed in care of the Gardiners.

Her uncle must have dropped it off sometime earlier.

She dreaded reading it. No doubt, her mother wanted them to come home.

She was resolved to stay, but she wasn’t sure about Jane.

“ There’s a letter here from Mother.” Lizzy turned and Jane sat up.

“ Oh, read it. I’m anxious to hear about the family.”

Lizzy tore open the envelope and began to read.

Dear Jane and Lizzy,

Since the Gardiners have not seen fit to install a telephone in their home, I have to resort to writing you a letter, since there is much to say. I hope you are enjoying your visit with your aunt, uncle, and the children, but really, it is time for you to come home. I am sure…

Jane got up from her bed and joined Lizzy at the desk. “What did she mean, we are enjoying our visit? You didn’t tell her that we are employed and living here, did you?”

Lizzy screwed up her face and looked up at Jane. “Not exactly, no. I thought I would tell her when the time came. You know how she is. Why stir up trouble if there is no need?”

Jane shook her head and then pulled up the extra chair to sit beside her. “Well, you’ll have to tell her now, won’t you? Oh, Lizzy.” Jane sighed. “Read on.”

Lizzy turned back to the letter.

“ I am sure that you girls have been helpful to your aunt, but by now have worn out your welcome. Besides, I need you home at once. It is vital to the family that you come.”

Lizzy looked up at Jane and shook her head. “Now I know where Lydia gets her flare for drama. Vital, indeed. What could be so important?”

“ We’ll never know if you keep stopping. Read on.”

“ Your father has a distant cousin, Mr Collins by name. He is a clergyman in a parish in Kent on the grounds of a great house called Rosings. He seems to be well connected and a gentleman. Also, now this is important, girls, he is the relative who will inherit Longbourn. ”

Lizzy glanced up at Jane. “I don’t see what this has to do with us.”

Jane gave Lizzie’s arm a slight nudge. Lizzy smiled and continued.

“ This Mr Collins has hinted in his letter (another one who has no telephone) that he would like to, as he put it, do right by one of you girls . That can only mean one thing – he intends to marry one of you and keep the house and the farm in the family.”

Lizzie slammed the letter down on the desk and let out a disgusted huff.

“How medieval can one be?” She stood up and pretended to be Mr Collins addressing the crowd of sisters standing before him.

She pointed with a wave of her hand, “Oh, I don’t know.

Perhaps Jane? She is the handsomest. Or maybe Miss Elizabeth?

She looks sturdy enough. Oh, I don’t think I want a wife who spends the day giggling like those two in the corner.

What are their names again, Kitty and Lydia?

Ah, then there is Miss Mary… perhaps she would lecture me. Can’t have that.”

Jane laughed. “Stop it. You make him sound so—”

“ Stupid? Arrogant? Full of himself?” She began imitating the absent Mr Collins again. “Oh, I’ll just look over the stable of fillies you’ve produced, Mrs Bennet, and pick the one—”

“ All right, that will do,” Jane said. “You never know. Perhaps he is a nice man and really does mean to do the right thing.”

“ Don’t be fooled. A man like that feels that he has power over all of us and can do as he pleases because he will inherit all that is ours. It is ridiculous. I will write Mother now and tell her exactly where we are, what we are doing, and what she can do with her Mr Collins.”

“ Perhaps you should take a walk first and compose your thoughts. Or better yet, I will write to Mother and tell her that we can’t possibly come home as we are recently employed and have already put up a month’s rent at a boarding establishment.

” Jane peered at Lizzy and seemed to try to offer an encouraging look.

Lizzy motioned to the chair in front of the desk and let out a sigh of resignation. “As usual, you are right. I would write in anger, and that would solve nothing. Finish reading Mother’s letter. I don’t think I can tonight, and you write to her. I can’t trust myself at the moment.

Lizzy sat down on the edge of her bed and removed her shoes as a paper slipped under her door. After fetching it, she held it under the lamp on the desk.

Jane looked over. “What is it? Another letter?”

Frowning, Lizzy dropped the paper on the desk and opened the door to the hallway but could see no one. Returning to the desk, she took up the paper.

“ It’s a pamphlet or newspaper of some kind. Look at the cover— Votes for Women , and there’s a drawing of John Burns, actually two of him. Look.” She handed the paper over to Jane, who glanced at it, then handed it back.

Jane didn’t look happy. “I don’t know. Maybe you should just throw it away. It’s one of those suffragette papers. They’re getting arrested for burning things down. I don’t know, Lizzy.”

“ The way I feel right now, I could burn something down easily.” Jane lifted her gaze, alarmed, and Lizzy laughed ruefully.

“Don’t worry. I don’t have the energy to run about creating havoc.

” She took the pamphlet and, sitting on her bed, switched on the lamp.

She glanced up at Jane, who was sitting at the desk, but still staring at her with a worried look.

“It’s all right. I can’t get arrested for reading.

” She opened the pamphlet and began reading an article by Emmaline Pankhurst.

***

“ You ambushed me, Bingley. Ambushed me.” Darcy waved a fork in his friend’s direction. They were eating dinner in Bingley’s townhome in Kensington. Darcy usually called Charles by his first name, but right now, he was perturbed.

“ I am sorry you feel that way about it, old boy, but how else would I have arranged a meeting between you two? Would you have met with Harry Selfridge otherwise?”

Darcy dodged the question. “Why is it so important to you that I meet a man like Selfridge?” He turned his attention to the beef Wellington on his plate. Although it was as tender as butter, he sawed away at it furiously.

“ You know why. Because I am your friend.”

Darcy was silent for a moment. The two of them were alone, save the servants, and he knew Charles would bring up a painful subject once again. He didn’t want to think about it, but he had to think about it.

“ Look, Selfridge and those like him would be thrilled to have you on their board of directors. It gives them prestige, and it is helpful for you financially. I don’t see why you are so reluctant to take advantage of these opportunities.”

“ Is that what you call them? Opportunities? To me, it is like selling my good name for money.”

Charles sighed and took a sip of his wine. “I don’t see it that way at all.” He went back to concentrating on his dinner. Darcy broke the silence.

“ I feel like I would be taking the money under false pretenses, and worse, I would be expected to always vote with Mr Selfridge at the board meetings.”

Bingley sighed. “In that, you are probably correct. If you look at it practically, though, it is his company. Why shouldn’t he have the final say in how it is run?”

It was interesting that Bingley was using the same argument that was used again and again against the landed gentry.

They could make all the life-and-death decisions about their property even though there were tenant farmers, mill workers, servants, groundskeepers, and sometimes entire villages dependent upon them.

Now, here was a man of commerce, Harry Selfridge, who, in some ways, was in the same position.

Yes, it was Selfridge’s company, just as Pemberley was his estate.

Yes, they were both lord and master over what was legally theirs.

Darcy had been brought up, and so had all the Pemberley inheritors through the generations, with the concept of noblesse oblige , which he took very seriously.

He knew that many people depended on the fact that he had their welfare in mind as well as his own.

Did a man of commerce have such compunctions?

Dare he ask Bingley, a man of commerce himself?

“ Good lord, Darcy, you’ve gone awfully quiet.”

Darcy sighed.

“ What is it, man, speak up. We’re friends, are we not?”

“ Of course.”

“ Then speak frankly.” Bingley raised his gaze to meet Darcy’s. “It’s all right. I won’t take offence.”

Darcy hesitated, but if he couldn’t have an honest discussion with his closest friend, then who, by George, could he confide in?

“I am not speaking of you, mind, but it would give me sleepless nights were I to feel as though I’ve sold my consent to a man who may or may not have the welfare of all those depending on him in mind.

I have heard many rumours of your Mr Selfridge… ”

“ Oh, and what might those be?” Was Charles actually amused? The faintest smile crossed his countenance.

“ Really, you have heard the same, I expect. That he is a libertine and a gambler. How can I associate my name with his? And he may squander his fortune, bankrupt his enterprise, and leave all his employees in the street.”

Bingley slapped both hands on the table with a loud guffaw. “Good lord, you do see the worst in people.”

“ And you do not scrutinise enough. I believe that you tend to see the good in everyone, no matter their character.”

Bingley shook his head. “You say that as if it is a fault rather than a virtue. ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged,’ eh?”

Darcy didn’t have an immediate retort for this comment, which vexed him. He, no doubt, would think of something scathing to say later, and that would vex him more. Bingley raised his wineglass as if in a toast.

“ Have some more wine, my friend, and let’s forget the entire episode. I was only thinking of your welfare.”

Darcy looked off over his friend’s shoulder at the exquisite Turner that Bingley bought at auction last year.

He loved the painter and his flawless sense of light in a scene.

He himself had a small Turner collection and thought of that now.

Perhaps he would have to sell his prized possessions in small lots to keep Pemberley running.

The tide had turned for the landed gentry, and farming was less profitable year by year.

“ My welfare? You needn’t concern yourself.”

“ Now, don’t be like that. We’ve discussed this before.

The mill, the tenant farmers, they aren’t enough anymore, are they?

I am your friend, and I will say it now, and then, if you no longer want to discuss it, I will be silent forever.

To maintain your inheritance, you must consider commerce—the stock market, which can be volatile, or consider entering into your own concern, which can also be risky, or serving on the board of directors of some going enterprises such as Selfridges, which is the least painful, I think, or… you can always marry for money.”

“ Charles. Good lord. Who do you suggest? Some loud and silly American heiress? They are looking for a title, of which I have none.” Darcy took up his glass of excellent Bordeaux and sipped. “Besides, have you never heard the old adage marry for money and you earn every penny ?”

“ All right, Darcy, all right. You are your own man, and you will do what you want. My scheming days are over. I introduced you to Selfridge, now you must do the rest, but please, think about his offer. If nothing else, you may learn a great deal about commerce. It is the future, you know.” Bingley rang for the servant. “Brandy, old man?”

“ Yes, thank you. I believe I need one tonight.”