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The conversation with Elizabeth at Bingley’s dinner party echoed in Darcy’s mind for days.

He’d find himself comfortably ensconced in a wingback chair at the club, perusing The Times, when a column concerning the latest campaign of the Pankhursts and their suffragettes would cause him to begin constructing mock arguments in his head.

He could see himself negating every point Miss Bennet would make, but then a creeping doubt would assail him as to the legitimacy of his position and would rob him of the satisfaction of achieving his victory.

Even though his club was social in nature rather than political, the machinations of government of late, including the Constitutional crisis and exacerbated by the social unrest created by the suffragettes, threatened the peace that had always reigned there.

Retrieving his pocket watch, he glanced at it…

. Nearly four o’clock. He promised to meet Bingley in the bar at four.

Sighing, he rose from the comfortable leather and went to meet his friend.

Bingley and a few of his mates were already seated at a table, gin and tonics at the ready.

Darcy signalled the barman to add one more drink and took the empty seat.

To his chagrin, among the other affable chaps at the table sat Bingley’s brother-in-law, Edwin Hurst. Why would Bingley invite such a disagreeable lout to meet them for a drink?

Darcy shot a glance of disapproval at Bingley, who promptly shrugged his shoulders.

“ Hope you don’t mind my intrusion, old boy—” Hurst sounded, by the elided nature of his words, already well lubricated with drink. “—but Louisa insisted on visiting her sister, and Charles here was escaping to the club. Couldn’t resist. Perhaps a game of cribbage later if any of you lot are game?”

“ I am afraid I am engaged for dinner later, but thanks all the same.” Darcy lied but felt justified. He disliked Hurst for several reasons, not the least of which was his indolent ways.

“ I might challenge you, Hurst, if you’re game for a small wager.” A sly look passed over Cedric Abernathy’s face as he spoke, which caused a chuckle from some of his companions. Darcy remained silent.

“ Always,” Hurst said with a laugh, and he downed what was left of his drink, slamming the empty glass on the table a bit too loudly. Yes, he was definitely in his cups.

The conversation drifted comfortably into sport, and then to the subject of forming a rowing team to compete at Henley.

Bingley pounced on the idea. “Now, that is splendid, splendid. You can count on me, chaps. I think I’d rather like getting up at the crack of dawn to practice on the river. What about you, Darcy?”

Bingley was always dragging him into one scheme or another, but he was not averse to exercise and was an excellent swimmer. He smiled in spite of himself. “All right, Charles, if you insist. I don’t see what harm it would do.”

Hurst, who roused himself from his usual torpor, looked at Darcy incredulously and then looked about at the other men at the table. “I don’t see the purpose of getting up when it is still dark and frolicking about in the damp. You can exclude me now, my good fellows.”

“ Now, there’s a surprise,” said Joseph Quintrell. He was the youngest of the group, and sometimes was a bit indiscreet in his comments. This appeared to be one of those times.

“ And what do you mean by that?” Hurst was roused himself and looked rather like an angry walrus.

“ I’m sure it was just an idle remark, old boy. No need for temper.” Darcy was trying to diffuse the situation. Hurst wasn’t having it.

“ Don’t try to appease me like you did that suffragette the other night, Darcy. I am not some simpering woman who will hang on your every word.”

Darcy closed his eyes for a moment to give himself a time to tamp down his temper.

The man was drunk. He was also married to Bingley’s sister.

Darcy needed to choose his words carefully.

Before he could speak again, though, Hurst went on.

“Not that you did handle her very well, did you, old boy? She got the better of you, didn’t she? ”

Darcy stood up, all eyes on him. “You’re a bit worse for drink, Hurst, so I will wait until you are sober to continue this discussion.

But as for that suffragette, her name is Elizabeth Bennet, and even though she is a woman, she is trying to address what she sees as injustice, which is more than I can say for many of us. ”

Hurst snuffled a bit but said nothing. The rest of the chaps at the table gaped open-mouthed at Darcy. What did he just say? Wherever did that come from?

Cedric Abernathy raised his glass to Darcy. “Here, here.” He was grinning from ear to ear. Darcy didn’t like the look in his eye. Was he being sarcastic? “A toast, gentlemen, to Mr Pankhurst… I mean, Mr Darcy.”

Young Joseph snorted, but the other men were stonily silent. No one else raised a glass. Darcy clenched his teeth and glared at Abernathy.

“ See here now.” Bingley was on his feet leaning in toward Abernathy, his voice raised.

Good old Bingley. Ready to jump in to defend a friend.

Darcy took a quick glance about the bar.

It wasn’t full, but those who were there had their attention fixed on their little group.

They were making a scene, which Darcy detested.

He quickly laid his hand upon Bingley’s arm.

“Never mind, Charles. We should be going.” He inclined his head towards the assembled group. “Gentlemen.”

“ Come along, Edwin. Louisa will be wondering what became of you.” Bingley nudged the back of Hurst’s chair, and the man got groggily to his feet.

“ What? Going so soon? What about my cribbage?” Hurst didn’t resist, however, to Darcy’s relief. He took one of Mr Hurst’s arms and Bingley took the other. They then piloted the cause of all the commotion outside to a waiting taxi.

When they reached Hurst’s townhouse, Bingley trundled his brother-in-law onto the pavement. “I do apologise for…” Bingley said as he quickly leaned into the taxi.

“ Think no more of it, Charles. It was nothing and not your fault…” Darcy didn’t continue as Bingley’s attention was drawn back to Hurst as he shakily mounted the stairs. Darcy shut the door of the taxi and instructed the driver to take him home.

As he leaned back in the worn leather seat, the scene at the club played over in his head.

Less than an hour before, almost without his decision to do so, he had leapt to Elizabeth’s defence.

The same Elizabeth with whom he had been arguing in his head for days.

He began to rub his forehead with his fingers.

Why was she and her radical ideas constantly crying out for his attention?

The taxi jostled to a stop. Perhaps a quiet dinner and a good book might bring him some relief.

He resolved to think no more about that infuriating Cedric Abernathy, the idle and loose-tongued Mr Hurst, and certainly think no more of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.