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"I had also observed," Lady Matlock continued, her gaze shifting back to Darcy, "that he seems rather more invested in this match than mere obligation would suggest."

"Does he now?" Lord Matlock leaned forward, his interest piqued.

Darcy cleared his throat. "Miss Bennet is not like the ladies who have been after me since I inherited."

"In what way?" his uncle pressed.

"She has well-considered opinions on,"—here he smiled "—everything." His earnestness gained momentum as he continued. "She debates without reservation, speaks in a sportive but sweet manner, and observes the world with a cleverness that is both incisive and kind."

"She sounds formidable," Lady Matlock commented, watching him closely.

"She is." A smile touched his lips. "When we first met, she thoroughly disliked me."

"Did she?" His aunt seemed amused. "I suppose she would object when you did not hand back her slipper and it led to this mess."

"So he did have hold of her shoe?” cried his uncle. “Whatever for?"

"Shh," his wife instructed. "What has changed, Darcy?"

"Nothing, I imagine. Our engagement was not of her choosing."

"And yet you admire her."

"I do. Very much." Darcy paused, surprised by his own answer.

Lord Matlock, who had been listening with increasing interest, let out a low whistle. "Well, well. Darcy, my boy, you are besotted at last."

"I did not say I was besotted," Darcy protested, feeling heat rise to his face.

"You did not have to," his uncle replied with a knowing smile.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably. "It is merely that I find her refreshing."

"Refreshing," Lord Matlock repeated sceptically. "Like Gunter's ice on a summer day, I suppose?"

"Henry," Lady Matlock chided, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Do not tease him."

"I cannot help it," Lord Matlock replied. "It is not every day one sees the stoic master of Pemberley rendered speechless by a country miss."

"I am not speechless," Darcy objected hotly. "I am quite clearly speaking."

Lady Matlock's expression grew thoughtful. "And what of her family? Her upbringing?"

"According to Abernathy, her father is a gentleman with a modest estate in Hertfordshire. It is entailed away from the female line." He spoke matter-of-factly. "Her mother is, she says, quite eager for her daughters to marry well. Miss Bennet has four unmarried sisters."

"Four of them!" Lord Matlock exclaimed. "Good heavens, that is a houseful. Have you met them?"

Darcy shook his head. "Miss Bennet warned me her mother was rather exuberant. But they are in the north with other family for now."

"Hmm. And her fortune?" Lady Matlock inquired.

"Negligible. Abernathy will give her something, though I do not require it."

"I see." Lady Matlock was silent for a moment. "She has beauty, I presume?"

"She has fine eyes," Darcy said softly. "And a vivacity I find captivating. I am not indifferent to her."

Lord Matlock exchanged a glance with his wife. "Fine eyes,” he says. “I do not believe I have ever heard Darcy comment on a lady's eyes before."

Lady Matlock's gaze sharpened at his tone.

"Darcy," she said slowly, "Despite Miss Bennet’s admirable qualities, she is not the sort of match you are expected to make. Your father had no title, but his family line is an ancient one. Your mother had connections to an earldom and a reasonable fortune. We have long known you are your own man, but I must warn you that the ton will not make things easy for your Miss Bennet.”

Darcy looked away, unwilling to meet her eyes.

He drew in a fortifying breath. "I am aware.

But the more time I spend with her, the more .

. ." He glanced up to see how the countess would respond to his confession.

Miss Bennet was not the sort of woman his titled relations would have wished for him, but they had to see that she was the woman he wanted.

He was almost sure. If only he could be sure of her feelings for him.

A small smile played on his aunt's countenance. "Not indifferent," she said slowly. "What a revealing phrase." She rose and walked to the window, looking out over the garden. "You remind me very much of your father at this moment."

"My father?"

"He spoke of your mother in much the same way before they married.

'Not indifferent' indeed." She turned back to him.

"Anne had a similar quality as your Miss Bennet, a liveliness of mind, a willingness to challenge convention.

She was never overawed by anyone, no matter their position or wealth.

And your father was absolutely bewitched by her. "

Bewitched. Yes, that was an apt description for his sentiments. Darcy fell silent, struck by the comparison.

"Your aunt is right, Darcy. Your father was a different man around your mother. Lighter, more at ease with himself. It was extraordinary to witness."

"I remember them together," Darcy said softly. "But I was still young when she died."

"Anne had little patience for the insipid young ladies who were forever being paraded before your father," his uncle said.

"Like that Landry girl. Remember her, Helena?

My sister declared she would sooner see George marry his horse than that empty-headed creature.

Eventually she declared she would have to take him on herself, if only to protect him from such women. "

"Henry," his aunt admonished, though without heat.

"It is true," he replied, unrepentant. "The point is, Darcy, your mother valued substance over superficiality. If this Miss Bennet has captured your interest so thoroughly, I suspect she must possess something of that same quality."

"She does," Darcy confirmed.

"The question is," Lady Matlock said, resuming her seat, "does your Miss Bennet know what it means to be mistress of Pemberley? The responsibilities she will face?"

"I believe she has some understanding, though perhaps not the full extent."

"Then we must help her." His aunt's tone had shifted from interrogation to decision. "I had already invited the Abernathys to my art salon. They will bring Miss Bennet, of course."

"Thank you, Aunt."

She waved away his gratitude. "It was a matter of luck, for the invitations were sent before the masquerade.

But now I shall meet your Miss Bennet and judge for myself.

If she is as you describe her, we shall manage her introduction to society.

" She frowned. "Lord Ellington was invited as well, unfortunately.

It is too much to hope that he will decline to appear, knowing our connection to you. "

"He will not decline, and in fact may present difficulties," Darcy warned.

"Oh, well, he may make the attempt," Lady Matlock said dismissively.

"But the spite of a dissolute gambler will hardly stand against the combined influence of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families.

Our friends are loyal." Her eyes narrowed slightly.

"Though I would advise Miss Bennet to prepare herself for some rather close scrutiny.

Not everyone will be as willing as I am to see beyond circumstances. "

"She is stronger than she appears," Darcy said.

"She will need to be." Lady Matlock moved to the bell pull. "I shall ask Mrs. Abernathy to arrive early for the salon. It would be proper for your uncle and me to make Miss Bennet's acquaintance before the other guests arrive."

"That is most kind."

"It is practical, not kind," she corrected, though her eyes were warm. "Now go. I have letters to write and arrangements to make if we are to introduce your Miss Bennet to our circle at the salon."

Lord Matlock rose with his nephew. "I shall see you out, Darcy. I still wish to hear about that drainage system when you have a moment."

"Another time," Darcy promised.

As they reached the door, Lady Matlock called, "Darcy."

He looked over his shoulder and stopped when he saw her approaching.

His aunt placed her hand on his arm. "I am pleased to see this side of you. This passion. It suits you better than your usual reserve."

"I am not passionate, Aunt," he protested.

"No?" She smiled knowingly. "I do not believe I have heard you speak so long on any subject save perhaps the improvements at Pemberley."

Lord Matlock laughed outright. "She has you there."

Darcy felt heat rise to his face yet again, but before he could respond, his aunt continued.

"The salon is Friday at two. Be here with your betrothed and the Abernathys at one. Do not be late."

"We shall be punctual," he promised, bowing once more before taking his leave.

As they walked through the corridor, his uncle spoke quietly. “You are different these past months, Darcy. Has it anything to do with your great-uncle?”

Darcy sighed. “I suppose it does. As you know, he was the last Darcy male.”

“The last except for you. Are you feeling the burden of carrying on the family name?”

He shrugged. “I suppose that is part of it.” He paused. “But more than that, I see how my great-uncle lived his life. He was entirely alone at the end, surrounded by significant wealth, yet what good did any of it do him? He had no one to share his joys with, no one to comfort him in his sorrows.”

He was silent for a moment, and his uncle simply waited. “All that money,” he said at last. “All that careful preservation of the Darcy legacy, and what was it for? So he could hand his fortune to me, a man he did not even wish to know?"

His uncle nodded encouragingly.

"I find myself wondering," Darcy said, his voice growing more earnest, "what is the point of preserving a name if there is no happiness attached to it?

What good is a fortune if it brings no joy to oneself or others?

My great-uncle was so concerned with maintaining his position, with accumulating wealth, that he forgot to take pleasure in living. I do not wish to follow that path."

"And what path would you choose instead?"

"One where the Darcy name means something more than just wealth and power. Where it represents benevolence, philanthropy. I would rather be the Darcy who brought happiness to those around him than the one who merely hoarded gold for the next generation to inherit."

His uncle smiled, a rare, genuine expression. "Your great-uncle would have called such talk foolish."

"Perhaps," Darcy replied. "But in the end his wisdom purchased him only loneliness."

“And is part of this foolishness your insistence on marrying Miss Bennet?”

“No,” Darcy said stoutly. “Offering for her is perhaps the wisest thing I have ever done.”

Lord Matlock clapped a hand on Darcy's shoulder.

"Take heart, my boy. This match may not be what any of us expected, but if the lady has even half the spirit you say she does, your aunt will like her.

And she is at least a close friend of the Abernathys, who are generally well regarded. You could do far worse."

"Thank you, Uncle," Darcy replied, touched by the simple acceptance.

"Besides," Lord Matlock added with a wink, "it will do the ton good to have their expectations upset now and then. Keeps everyone on their toes."

"A public service, then?" Darcy asked wryly.

"Precisely!" His uncle laughed, then leaned towards Darcy conspiratorially. "Now, tell me honestly. Is she as pretty as Helena suspects?”

His voice softened. "Yes.”

"Ah." Lord Matlock nodded knowingly. "That bad, is it?"

Darcy lifted his head. "I did not say—"

“I recognize the symptoms, having experienced them myself some thirty years ago,” the earl said with a crooked smile that reminded Darcy of Fitzwilliam. “It is not something a man forgets."

As they reached the main entrance hall, Lord Matlock's expression grew more serious. "There is talk, you know," he said in a lower tone. "At the clubs. Several of the younger men seem to find great amusement in the idea of proud Darcy finally brought low by a country lass."

"I suspected as much." It did not mean he had to like it.

"Lord Winterbottom was particularly vocal last evening. Spoke of how a healthy country wife would 'enliven your nights considerably.' I nearly called him out for it."

"I appreciate your restraint," Darcy replied drily. His uncle was terrible with both foil and pistol. His only real weapon was pointed words spoken in the House of Lords.

"It was not for his sake but yours. Such a challenge would only fuel the gossip.

" Lord Matlock's eyes held genuine concern.

"Some jest that you have been tamed at last, that this country miss has managed what the diamonds of the season could not.

It is sure to goad the ladies into a fury, and it will not be you they blame for their disappointment. "

Darcy felt his face grow hot with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "Miss Bennet's character is above such speculation or attack."

"As we are both aware, the ton is no respecter of character.

" Lord Matlock sighed. "They will test her, Darcy.

Some will be genuinely curious, others deliberately unkind.

The women, especially, may be merciless.

Those with daughters they had hoped to match with you will be in attendance on Friday, as will more who simply delight in witnessing another's discomfort. "

"Miss Bennet can weather their scrutiny," Darcy said with quiet confidence. "She is possessed of remarkable composure."

"I hope so, for your sake and hers. But she ought to be warned." His uncle squeezed his shoulder briefly before taking his leave, disappearing back into the depths of Matlock House.

As he walked down the steps to where his carriage waited, Darcy found himself anticipating Friday with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.