Page 8 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

Chapter 7

E lizabeth rose stiffly after a miserable night’s sleep, or rather lack thereof. She could not cease her restless anger or her stunned musings. She and Jane had talked deep into the night, but Elizabeth was still no nearer forgetting Mr Collins or forgiving Mr Darcy.

Dragging her dressing gown over her nightclothes, she crept down the hall to her father’s room, rousing Mrs Cooper, who had been dozing comfortably. “Has he shown any signs of waking?” she whispered.

Mrs Cooper shook her head. “Nay, Miss, but it’s still early. Let the body have time to heal.”

Elizabeth sagged with disappointment. “I know. He will wake, though, will he not?” Her eyes implored the older woman to answer in the affirmative, but Mrs Cooper was too experienced to make an attempt at false hope.

“I cannot say, my dear,” she placed a motherly hand on Elizabeth’s. “We can only do so much. He has everything in his favour, and we can find no other injuries. Cheer up, love,” she smiled in encouragement. “I’ve seen it happen, and more than once.”

Elizabeth sighed and nodded dejectedly. The pair sat in silence for some time. At length, she offered to dress then return to allow Mrs Cooper a break, intending to sit with her father through the morning. One by one, as the morning began to ripen, her mother and two oldest sisters came to pay their respects.

Jane’s deep compassion and care were welcome to Elizabeth, as was the offer of a hot cup of coffee and a scone. Less welcome were Mary’s practical observations and her pointed assumption that Elizabeth’s prudent engagement to Mr Darcy alleviated their worry of homelessness, in case their father should not improve.

Entirely disagreeable was her mother’s visit. Elizabeth’s nerves grated raw, but there was little she could do to silence Mrs Bennet’s excited planning. “Lizzy, do find out what Mr Darcy’s favourite meal is. I intend to serve it tomorrow. I invited Mr Bingley to dinner tomorrow, you know, and he promised to bring your Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth grunted inarticulately. What did she care what the man liked to eat? “One of Hill’s ragouts will surely suffice, Mama,” she fibbed at last. Truthfully, she had already observed at Netherfield he preferred plain dishes as she did, but she had no intention of dangling that morsel of information before her ravenous mother.

“Oh, and Lizzy, you must see what you can do to encourage Mr Bingley to offer for Jane! He so clearly admires her, and he must be very shy, I think, not to have said something yesterday when there was so much talk of marriage! It is only a matter of time, you know, but you must do what you can to help her secure him! After all, your dearest father may not wake, and that horrid Mr Collins may turn us out before he is cold in his grave!”

“Oh, Mama,” ashamed, Elizabeth buried her face in her palm. “Papa will be fine, Mama. Only give him time to recover. Please do not go on so. It is most unseemly!”

“Oh, you do not think what I must suffer, you careless girl! But Lizzy, you were so clever to ensnare Mr Darcy! Oh, how sly you are! How very fine you will be! Only think, a house in Town, everything charming! We need have no fear now, do we? Let that horrible man do his worst!” she giggled confidently.

Elizabeth wryly noted that Mr Collins had suddenly fallen out of Mrs Bennet’s favour as quickly as he had found it. And this the man her mother would have had her marry only yesterday! Disgusted, she adopted the tactic of silence to put off further conversation. She returned deliberately to her book. Mrs Bennet, rather than taking the pointed hint, soon grew bored with her silent daughter. She bustled off in search of more willing listeners.

Mr Collins’ imperious tones drifted through the half-closed door. Elizabeth tucked herself more firmly into the corner near her father’s bed while she eavesdropped on his affronted monologue—directed at anyone within earshot. He loudly announced his intentions to return to Lucas Lodge for the whole of the day, where he had been the entire afternoon previous. Good riddance, she thought spitefully. One less overbearing man to deal with today.

That still left Mr Darcy, who would be publicly expected to call at some point if he had a shred of decency about him. Elizabeth testily resolved to spend the entire day in her father’s room. Let him come find her if he dared!

B ingley woke at his usual time but lingered above stairs as long as he felt he was able. He did not relish facing Caroline or Louisa this morning. He had asked to be kept apprised of Darcy’s activities, and so far yet this morning, the man snored in a dazed stupor.

Through delicately veiled comments, Darcy’s valet suggested that his master had been sick a good part of the night. Bingley was only surprised it had not occurred while he had been yet in the room. His old friend had downed a considerable amount of alcohol. With some relief, he had been able to discover that Darcy had begun on the bottle that had been nearly empty, but still, to consume that quantity of stout drink and then make as much headway as the man had on the second bottle was quite incredible. That had been a particularly strong—and expensive—vintage. It would be a wonder if Darcy were not still entirely drunk.

Eventually, Bingley resigned himself to face the onslaught and made his reluctant way downstairs. He expected a repeat of the prior night’s scene. Instead, he found the breakfast room curiously quiet. Only Hurst was there, and his brother barely spared time for a greeting before returning to his meal.

Bingley thanked the maid who brought him his paper and sat down to his breakfast. Louisa joined them a few moments later. Her silent pout told him that she had not yet given up the scheme of departing for London immediately. He sighed inwardly. He really did have business that needed his attention. He had sent a letter delaying his attorney’s appointment, but he would need to go to town soon, unless his man could come to him instead. He felt that before he could go anywhere, he needed to see how things developed with Mr Bennet... and with Darcy and Miss Elizabeth.

A fresh idea came to him. No harm in helping the situation along a little! Calling for his butler, he scribbled a quick note to the Bennet family. He asked after Mr Bennet and then requested permission to call later in the day. One way or another, he would have to make sure Darcy went with him, and it would be some while yet before he could be made presentable. Giving the note back to his butler, he asked that it be delivered at once and a reply requested.

He turned his attention back to his meal and ate the rest undisturbed. Quietly he retreated to his study, more to escape Louisa’s sulking demeanour than to do any real work. Unlike Darcy, Bingley was perfectly satisfied to remain idle for a time when had little to do. He contented himself by toying with the fire and daydreaming of Jane Bennet’s beautiful blue eyes.

His reverie was disturbed when his valet burst through the door, thoroughly flustered. Concerned, Bingley ignored his man’s breach of protocol. “Is something the matter with Darcy?” he started from his position. The gentlemen’s pair of valets were thick as thieves, a fact for which Bingley was most grateful.

“Yes, sir. It seems Miss Bingley had been waiting for him to come down to breakfast, and she is losing patience. She is demanding entrance to Mr Darcy’s rooms! Mr Wilson asks if you can come.”

“What? Good heavens!” Bingley fairly ran upstairs. He found Caroline loudly berating Wilson, calling him any number of unflattering names. Wilson stood embarrassed but resolute, guarding his master’s door with his hands locked behind his back on the latch.

“Caroline! What is the meaning of this!” With a nod, he dismissed Darcy’s valet. The poor fellow gratefully escaped back into his master’s room. Wishing to defuse the scene his sister was causing, he gripped her elbow, dragged her back into her own room and slammed the door.

“Charles! Let go! Ouch! How dare you abuse your own sister in this way! Unhand me!” Caroline ripped her arm out of his grasp. Brother and sister stood toe to toe, fuming.

“Caroline, what were you thinking, setting up such a fuss outside Mr Darcy’s door? Demanding to enter his rooms? I am appalled! Do you know what the servants will be saying?”

Caroline straightened herself, assuming a serene dignity. “Charles, how you do go on. You know very well I would not engage in such vulgar behaviour! I only wished to tend to him! His valet said he was quite ill this morning, and I know he would wish for me to care for him in his indisposition. It is my duty, as your hostess, to see to our guests!” She sniffed, turning her face away.

“Of course, this explains everything,” she went on, picking at the lace of her sleeves to arrange the cuffs as she liked. “This misunderstanding with Eliza Bennet must have been some misapprehension due to his sudden ailment. A doctor must be called at once to ascertain that it is not serious and to testify that he had not his senses about him yesterday.” She finished and levelled a perfectly tranquil gaze at him as if daring him to believe her mistaken.

Bingley shook his head in astonishment. One moment she was as coarse and ill-bred as a sailor, abusing the staff and making both a nuisance and a spectacle of herself. The next, she was placid as any fine gentlewoman while at the same time asserting the most preposterous notions.

“Caroline—” he rubbed the bridge between his eyes—“for the last time, Mr Darcy has never shown the faintest interest in you. I am sorry to disappoint my own sister, but it is the truth. Do stop preoccupying yourself with the idea.”

Caroline huffed, tossing her head airily. “Mr Darcy thinks very highly of me! We have been on intimate terms for years, and I know he admires how I dote on dear Georgiana. The issue, Charles, is whether you will be a kind friend to him. You cannot allow him to debase himself by an alliance with such a family! Why, it is simply not done! Their uncle is in trade , Charles. He would make himself the laughingstock of London!

“You yourself would be tainted by such an unfashionable connection, which our family can ill afford! You would simply have to give him up, Charles, and I know you would be loath to do so. This ‘engagement’ is a sham, Charles, a deplorable trickery wrought upon an estimable gentleman! Miss Elizabeth Bennet is a country chit, not worthy of a man of his standing! She must be made to know her place and to relinquish any claim upon him.”

“I cannot believe I have allowed this to go on.” He turned away, aggrieved. “Caroline, you have just proven to me in a few words why I have never cared for many of the ton . If the profession of one’s uncle is a significant enough indictment against them to discredit such lovely girls as Miss Elizabeth and Miss Jane Bennet, then you and I must have an entirely different way of looking at the world.

“Do you forget, Caroline, that our own fortune comes from the woollen mills? We are no further away from this disagreeable taint of trade than the Bennets, yet you act as if you are infinitely better than they! What basis do you have for this assumption of superiority? Furthermore, what does it matter? I have met many a person whose company I find delightful, regardless of their low station, and many more, I cannot abide who claim fashionable connections.”

Caroline made a crude noise and glowered in disgust. “I might have known you could not be made to see reason. You never did show discretion in your associations, Charles! I had hoped that Mr Darcy could have brought you to some sense, but I see now that it is you who have influenced him for the worse! If it were not for my good instincts and all the connections I have made, why, we would have no standing at all in society! You know that your poor taste will affect my chances!” Her voice rose to a spine-shivering screech.

He turned back to her, grinning recklessly. “I would not despair so, Caroline! Indeed, I am quite sure that Miss Bennet’s uncle in Cheapside will know of some charming young solicitors or office assistants with whom he would be glad to acquaint you—after I have offered for Miss Jane.”

Her mouth flew open in outrage, but for once, she was speechless. Bingley’s smile widened as he stepped back into the corridor, a merry whistle upon his lips. The door slammed violently behind him.

***

It was nearing midday when Bingley’s attention was again diverted so forcefully. He had been attempting to read one of the books Darcy had left in the drawing-room. The Journals of John Wesley. Try as he might, he could not retain more than a paragraph or two before he found his eyes skimming the page uncomprehendingly.

The wheels of a carriage grated roughly on the gravel outside, causing him to jump up in relief. Not one to stand on ceremony when it seemed unnecessary, he moved quickly to the foyer to greet his unexpected guest. Great was his surprise when he found Colonel Fitzwilliam himself stepping out of the carriage. The colonel reached back inside to hand down a timid Georgiana Darcy, followed by her silent maid.

“Colonel! I daresay I am glad you are come, but I did not expect you so soon!”

The colonel turned his smiling face away from the young lady to greet his host. “Bingley!” he returned jovially, “It is good to see you again. Your note was most… intriguing.” He flashed a roguish grin.

Bingley bowed to Miss Darcy, then offered her his arm. “You are looking well, Miss Georgiana,” he welcomed her gently. “You must be tired from your journey. Would you like to take a rest?”

She thanked him bashfully but replied, “I am not tired, but I would like to see Fitzwilliam.”

“Yes, where is the old man?” the colonel rejoined. “Off calling on this mysterious Miss Bennet? I confess, Bingley, when I got your note, I was completely stunned. Fancy Darcy finally succumbing, and to a country girl! He has always been an impenetrable fortress. She must indeed be something charming to turn his head. I had to meet this young woman for myself!”

“Colonel… Miss Darcy… perhaps we should speak more privately.” Bingley showed them into the house and gestured to his study. Fitzwilliam’s eyebrows shot up, his curiosity now at a fever pitch. Miss Georgiana, ever astute, hesitantly followed the gentlemen.

Bingley offered them seats and refreshments, the latter of which were politely declined. Both parties were burning with interest at the novelty of Fitzwilliam Darcy’s recent actions. Bingley seated himself, and after some initial hesitation, began to relate their history with the Bennet family. His listeners sat quietly, without interrupting.

He began with their initial acquaintance and how Darcy had scoffed at the notion of even standing up with the young woman. A moment later, he was describing the few days—marvellous, they were to Bingley, but perhaps rather uncomfortable to Darcy—when the eldest Bennet sisters had taken refuge under his roof. Darcy had never in that time shown any signs of warming to the young woman, certainly!

Progressing to more recent events and still shaking his head in wonder, he told of the ball two days ago and how Darcy had singled Miss Elizabeth out for an unaccustomed dance. Miss Georgiana did not appear so surprised, but Fitzwilliam let out a low whistle. Lastly of all, he told of Mr Bennet’s accident and the unwelcome houseguest who stood to inherit the family’s home should the gentleman not recover.

“...And so, yesterday, when Mr Collins tried to insist upon Miss Elizabeth marrying him, Darcy stepped in. I know now why he did it but at the time…. well, I was just as shocked as Miss Bennet,” he finished.

“Pray tell, what could his reason be?” Fitzwilliam queried, his eyebrow arched teasingly. “Do not tell me that the dreary chap has finally given over to a pretty face? I cannot believe it.”

“I think for that you had best speak to him. I warn you, however, he may not yet be fit to receive company.”

“What is the matter? Is he unwell?” A sister’s concern pouring from her eyes, Georgiana leaned forward urgently.

“Nothing a little time, and perhaps some hot coffee would not mend. You see,” he glanced uncertainly between the two, “Miss Elizabeth did not take Darcy’s interference well yesterday. They had words… well, Colonel, I have not seen him this morning, but he was somewhat the worse for wear last night. I am very glad you have come.”

Comprehension began to dawn in the colonel’s eyes. He turned gently to the fair-haired girl and suggested, “Georgiana, why do you not allow a maid to see you to your room? You can take some refreshment there, and we will join you in the drawing-room later.”

Unwillingly she acquiesced, and Bingley rang for a maid. Nancy, one of the younger maids, came smartly, but her eyes shifted nervously to her charge as Bingley gave instructions. Caroline had terrorized most of the staff, he realized with a sinking feeling. At least the polite and sweet Georgiana would give the young maid no reason to fear. She would not even be required to have chief charge of the girl, as Georgiana’s own ladies’ maid had accompanied her. Still, it was only proper to assign Nancy as well, who was familiar with the house. Georgiana smiled a little at the equally nervous Nancy, and the two departed.

“Colonel, if you will kindly follow me,” Bingley showed Fitzwilliam upstairs.

D arcy had finally lurched upright, his head throbbing. He sat for a few minutes, his pounding eyes shielded in his fists. Dimly he perceived Wilson making preparations for his morning shave, but the sounds which were usually so welcome in the morning only aggravated his suffering.

Darcy could not remember ever having been the worse for drink. What had he done last night? Shadowy memories flitted through his mind, spinning and dissolving and then finally coalescing to one single point— Elizabeth.

Good heavens, what had he done? His muddled mind struggled to piece together the events of the day before. Had he really…? And she…. He groaned, flopping back down on the bed. It hurt his head to think about it.

He struggled to a sitting position again when he heard muffled voices approaching from the corridor. Bingley’s clear, happy tones were joined by another voice, deeper and heartier… Dash it. That is all I need.

“... Two bottles of Scotch! We cannot be talking about the same Darcy!”

“Indeed, it is the truth. I have never seen him so…” there was a brief rap on the door, and then it opened abruptly. Bingley still stood with his knuckles in the air, but Richard Fitzwilliam strode confidently into the room and accosted him as he still sat in his bed.

“William!” his cousin grinned as he slapped him mercilessly on the back.

“Go away, Richard,” Darcy growled.

“Oh-ho, my boy, is that any way to greet your favourite relative?” Fitzwilliam’s voice was much, much louder than normal. Was it his imagination, or was his cousin deliberately trying to increase his agony?

“You are most decidedly not my favourite relative,” was the cross retort.

“No, I suppose not, but I brought her with me. Best clean up, Laddy. We cannot let Georgiana think you are less than a paragon. Here we go!” Richard shouldered his younger and taller cousin and hoisted him to his feet.

Darcy’s head reeled with the sudden change in posture. His stomach rebelled, and he tried to grip both aching body parts to still the overpowering queasiness. “Richard, curse you, let go of me!” Immediately he regretted his words. Fitzwilliam yielded with an exaggerated flourish, and Darcy nearly crumpled to the floor. He had to let go of his stomach to grasp the post of the bed.

Finally, Richard’s words clarified in his head. “You brought Georgiana? Whatever for? And what are you doing here, you blackguard?”

“Temper, temper, Darce. I say, Bingley, he is in fine form today, is he not? Here you are.” Richard braced him again, and with Bingley’s assistance, the pair helped him to walk over to the chair where Wilson waited to shave him.

Out of consideration for the man with the hangover, Bingley and Fitzwilliam stood quietly while Darcy received his shave. Bingley decided a bath ought to be drawn to revive his friend, but seeing Darcy’s continued lack of coordination, the two men were obliged to help. Fitzwilliam dunked his cousin into the bath with a little more exuberance than was strictly necessary, but the job was at last done.

Bingley and Fitzwilliam retreated to the bedroom while Darcy dressed and was made presentable. Wilson once again earned his rather lavish pay, for Darcy looked nearly respectable when he emerged. His steps were still short, his movements painfully slow in regard for his aching head. He greeted them with a slow nod. Bingley wordlessly handed him a cup of black coffee and encouraged him to sit at his writing desk.

“So,” the colonel began, drawing a chair near. “Tell me about this Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who I hear is so enchanting.”

Darcy moaned, rolled out of his chair, and stumbled toward his bed. Behind the screen, they could hear him retching into the chamber pot.

“Wrong subject, I suspect, Colonel,” Bingley whispered.

Fitzwilliam’s eyes were round in wonder. “I would never have imagined it,” he replied, his voice low. “He is utterly smitten, is he not? And she refused him, you say? Indeed, I must meet this singular woman!”

Bingley nodded in agreement but said nothing. Darcy was tremblingly emerging from behind the screen, wiping his mouth. He dubiously regarded his companions, who both sat in nervous silence while he gingerly resumed his seat and his coffee. A soft knock at the door brought a note from Bingley’s housekeeper and provided him an escape, which he gratefully took. Colonel Fitzwilliam remained, eyeing his cousin’s condition sceptically.

“Well, Cousin,” he recommenced, more gently this time. “Tell good old Richard what the matter is.”

Darcy scowled. “Your patronizing is not necessary.”

“That’s more like it, Cuz. So, I understand I am to wish you joy?” He watched carefully, wondering if his return to the previous subject would precipitate another run on the chamber pot. Darcy held himself in admirably but did not make a proper reply. A groan and a deep sigh was his only response for a moment.

Half a cup of coffee later, Darcy looked up. “Did you say you brought Georgiana? What the devil for?”

Richard handled his surly cousin with aplomb. He would get the full story when Darcy was good and ready. “She was concerned about her brother, naturally. Bingley sent me an express yesterday, which he intended as an invitation for her to come to you. He indicated that you might be in need of a little support from your dearest sister. Had I chosen to hold her back, I would have been unsuccessful. I have absolutely no idea where she learned to be so stubborn,” he innocently suggested. “She insisted upon leaving at first light this morning. Something about travelling post-chaise alone if I did not present myself at the door by the proper hour….”

“Richard!” Darcy’s expression was deadly serious, his voice a harsh whisper, “Wickham is here.”

The colonel’s face paled. “What, here in Meryton?”

Darcy nodded, sickening again. “Bingley could not have known when he wrote for her to come. Wickham has joined the regiment stationed there. It also seems that he has been merrily spreading reports about myself, which you and I both know to be false, but she.…” his voice trailed off as he fought back another wave of nausea.

“Oh…” Richard breathed. “I see.” He sat contemplatively, brushing his chin with his forefinger. “How do we keep her away from him?” His eyes narrowed, focusing on his cousin. “Or was it Georgie you were talking about just now?”

“Yes, and no.” Darcy sighed. “We cannot let him anywhere near Georgiana, but the rascal has done plenty of damage already.”

“Aye, that it would seem. So,” he leaned forward, the seasoned battlefield commander replacing the worried guardian. “Wickham has been sowing seeds of discord with your lovely lady, and she heartily dislikes you. The problem is,” he looked up, verifying his facts, “now the entire town of Meryton believes you both to be engaged, and given your decided lack of finesse with the ladies, I am guessing your ‘betrothed’ will not speak to you. Yet you seem inordinately fond of her. Does that about sum it up?”

Darcy nodded wearily, his head throbbing. “Remind me never to try to keep a secret from you. It is not worth the effort.”

Fitzwilliam grinned rakishly. “What would be the point of being older and wiser if I could not weasel a confession out of you every time? Now,” he clapped his hands together and rubbed them briskly, as though he were planning a grand entertainment rather than counselling a heartbroken cousin. “First things first. Bingley has you fooled, by the way, Cousin.”

At Darcy’s startled questioning glance, Fitzwilliam smirked and continued. “He is not quite as oblivious as some might think. The fellow is a genius. You could learn a thing or two. He wrote for Georgiana’s help, hoping that her presence would help this lovely Elizabeth, of whom you are so enamoured, to possibly see your good side. You do have one if I remember correctly.”

Darcy looked daggers at him. “If you think I will place Georgiana in the company of… of some of the local populace here, trotting her out as if she were some peace offering, you had better get back in your coach and return to London!” he snarled.

“Very well, but it was your coach I brought. As for Georgie, good luck getting her to return with me. She was very insistent upon meeting this Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She said you had previously written about her, and you were even very complimentary? My word, Darcy, I believe I must meet her as well!”

“Is it your intention to uselessly aggravate me, Richard?” Darcy grumbled.

“Well, you must admit, I have never had such a golden opportunity to do so. Now, quite seriously, once you have made yourself human again with your coffee, Georgiana is waiting most anxiously to speak to you. I believe,” he gestured with his chin over his shoulder, “she was going to try to remain in her private room unless Miss Bingley has already forced her out.” Richard suppressed a shudder.

Darcy sighed, nodded, and picked his nearly empty cup back up. It was useless to argue when he was still so muddled, and Richard was enjoying himself far too much.

Richard propped his chin on his hand meditatively, waiting for his cousin to finish. “What of this other fellow, Collins, Bingley wrote about? Who is he? The heir, he said it was?”

“A cousin. Unpleasant, as most cousins are,” Darcy shot him a sardonic look over the rim of his cup.

“Touché. Perhaps you are not so impaired as I thought. But from where does he come? Why would he be staying with the Bennets just now?”

“He is… Oh…” Darcy reddened and swore. “He is our aunt Catherine’s new rector at Rosings.” Darcy jumped from his chair and began to pace, for the moment ignoring the clamouring of his head.

“You don’t say! Well, this is rich!” The colonel began laughing, shaking his head.

“You do not understand, Richard,” Darcy breezed by him, suddenly energized by his frustration. His words came in bursts as he pounded the carpet. “He panders to Aunt Catherine utterly—you would not believe it. I can easily see why she offered him the preferment. He considers it his duty to compliment her unceasingly. Surely, he wrote to her immediately. He was not only offended because Elizabeth refused him but also because he has been listening a little too much to Aunt Catherine. You know her expectations.” He ground his teeth, scowling.

Fitzwilliam held up his hands. “I am a step or two ahead of you, Cousin.” Darcy stopped and regarded him expectantly. The colonel smiled, relishing his moment of cleverness. “I imagined if word of your engagement got out, there might be repercussions in certain branches of the family. I happened to mention to your coachman and butler in London that perhaps a relative or two might be expected to be passing through within the next few days.

“I thought someone might show up, for example, demanding to see you or Georgie. Should anyone pay a call, they will be persuaded, rather firmly, to take accommodations for the night. You know how persuasive old Drake can be. I imagine he is up to the task. In addition, I recommended their coach should be thoroughly gone over. It would not do for any safety issues to go undetected, putting any of our family at risk, would it? As I have taken your last coach from the London house, there are no others available. You know how some of our relations feel about a hired carriage. I expect any needed repairs, you know, if any issues are discovered, may take at least a day, perhaps two.”

Darcy smiled weakly, his first of the day. “You are devious, you know.” He began pacing again, more slowly. “Surely, she would not give herself the trouble of travelling so far, but I can imagine some rather strongly worded letters—both to myself and to your father.”

“I am a soldier. I take precautions.” Richard stood. “Go see Georgie. You have kept her waiting long enough.”