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"Fitzwilliam has always possessed a clear understanding of military tactics, even before he purchased his commission," Mr. Darcy observed. "His insights are nearly always accurate, which offers me some hope."

Elizabeth noticed how Mr. Darcy glanced briefly at Arabella as he spoke. When he turned back to the conversation, he deftly steered it towards less martial subjects.

"Though speaking of the Peninsula reminds me of the remarkable Spanish paintings Mrs. Fitzherbert has in her possession," he said smoothly. "Miss Abernathy, did you not particularly admire the Murillo?"

Elizabeth felt a rush of gratitude towards Mr. Darcy for his tactful intervention.

Obviously he was possessed of some social adroitness.

Arabella visibly rallied, offering a genuine if subdued response about the painting's composition.

Soon she was drawn into a lively debate about the merits of various artistic schools, her melancholy partially dispelled.

“Oh, yes, the Murillo,” Mr. Fitzherbert cried from his end of the table. “You must all come see it before the end of the evening. I put up a fuss about it. Quite an expense, you know. But now that we have it installed, I must admit that my wife was right.”

“Oh, you must say that again, husband,” Mrs. Fitzherbert said with a laugh. “I hear it from you so rarely.”

Elizabeth smiled. She liked that among friends there was more freedom to take part in any of the conversations being held across the table.

"That was very kind of you," Elizabeth murmured to Mr. Darcy when the conversation around them had grown sufficiently general to allow for private exchange.

He knew precisely what she meant. "I merely observed a lady's discomfort and sought to alleviate it," he replied quietly. "Miss Abernathy deserves better than to be repeatedly reminded of her disappointment."

"You did warn me that you are observant," Elizabeth noted.

"Please,” he groaned playfully, “do not remind me. I said a good many stupid things in the park that day.” His gaze holding hers for a moment longer than strict propriety permitted. "I was rather nervous, not that it is an excuse."

“Nervous?” she whispered back.

“You are very pretty, Miss Bennet, and clever as well. I wished to impress you, but I never quite know what you are going to say or do. I was all at sea.”

Elizabeth was addressed by Lord Matlock then, and was unable to reply to Mr. Darcy. But his comment remained in her mind even as they all moved on to different conversations.

Dinner proceeded with the same pleasant mix of serious discussion and light-hearted exchange.

Elizabeth found herself thoroughly enjoying the intellectual stimulation as well as the genuine warmth shown by most of the company.

These were people of consequence, yes, but also of education and serious thinkers.

She could imagine many such evenings in her future, engaging with ideas and forming connections beyond the limited society of Meryton.

When the ladies withdrew to the drawing room, leaving the gentlemen to their port, Mrs. Fitzherbert took Elizabeth's arm with maternal affection.

"My dear, you and Mr. Darcy make a splendid pair," she said. "I have rarely seen him so animated in company."

"You flatter me, Mrs. Fitzherbert," Elizabeth demurred, though the observation pleased her.

"Not at all," Lady Matlock joined in. "My nephew has always been reticent in society. Tonight he was positively conversational, a transformation I attribute entirely to your influence."

"It seems Mr. Darcy simply requires the right company to show his true character," Lady Spencer added with a knowing smile. "Just as we all do, I suppose."

As the ladies settled with tea and conversation, Elizabeth found herself drawn to Arabella, who had positioned herself slightly apart from the others.

"Are you well, Arabella?" she inquired gently, taking a seat beside her friend. "You seemed somewhat subdued during dinner."

Arabella attempted a smile. "I am perfectly well, I assure you. Perhaps a slight headache, nothing more."

"I could not help but notice your reaction when Colonel Fitzwilliam was mentioned," Elizabeth ventured quietly. "If there is anything I might do—"

"There is nothing anyone can do," Arabella replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Some situations simply are what they are, and we must bear them with as much dignity as possible."

The gentlemen rejoined them then, and Arabella smoothly rose to join her mother in conversation with Lord Matlock, effectively ending their tête-à-tête.

Mr. Darcy approached Elizabeth with two cups of tea, offering one to her before taking the seat Arabella had vacated.

“Did you pour the tea, sir?” she inquired lightly.

“No,” he said with a small laugh. “But I did instruct the hostess as to how you take it.”

Elizabeth sipped it. The tea was exactly as she preferred, just a splash of milk and no sugar. "Thank you, Mr. Darcy." It surprised her that he had noticed such a small detail.

"I trust the ladies' conversation was agreeable?" he asked before taking a sip of his own drink.

She could not help but glance at Arabella. "Most enlightening."

Mr. Darcy's expression grew thoughtful as he followed her gaze across the room to where Arabella stood. "Some matters of the heart are not easily resolved," he said quietly. "Particularly when duty and inclination find themselves at odds."

"You speak of Colonel Fitzwilliam's situation?" Elizabeth asked, keeping her voice low.

"And Miss Abernathy's," he confirmed with a slight nod. "My cousin's position as a second son necessitates certain practical considerations in matrimony that his heart finds difficult to reconcile."

"While Arabella’s dowry makes her an object of interest to many who care nothing for her quick mind and lively spirit," Elizabeth observed sadly.

"Precisely," Mr. Darcy agreed, a shadow crossing his features. "It is an unfortunate reality of our world that affection alone is rarely deemed sufficient cause for marriage among those of a certain station."

Elizabeth could not help but reflect on the irony of discussing such matters with Mr. Darcy, given the circumstances of their own engagement. Yet something in his expression made her wonder if he was thinking of their situation as well.

"How fortunate then," she said carefully, "when practical considerations and genuine regard coincide."

"Indeed," he replied, his voice deepening slightly as he met her gaze. "Fortune beyond measure."

The Abernathys' home was quiet when they returned. Wilson helped them with their wraps and hurried away.

"A most enjoyable evening," Mrs. Abernathy declared as they settled briefly in the drawing room before retiring. "Mrs. Fitzherbert has always set an excellent table."

"And her company was exceptionally well-chosen," Mr. Abernathy added, casting a warm smile at Elizabeth. "You made quite an impression, my dear."

"Lord Spencer in particular seemed most taken with you," Arabella observed, having regained some of her usual animation during the journey home. "No small achievement, as he is notoriously difficult to impress."

"I merely offered my opinions when asked," Elizabeth demurred, though she was pleased by their approval. "And Mr. Darcy was most careful to invite me into the conversation."

"You two complement each other admirably," Mrs. Abernathy said with satisfaction. "Anyone observing you this evening would have thought you acquainted for years rather than a month."

Before Elizabeth could respond, Wilson reappeared with a letter. "This arrived by express this evening, madam," he informed Mrs. Abernathy, who accepted the missive with a puzzled frown.

"At this hour? How curious." She broke the seal and scanned the contents, her expression shifting from confusion to concern. "Oh dear."

"What is it, Mother?" Arabella inquired, setting aside her teacup.

"It is from Mrs. Bennet," Mrs. Abernathy replied, glancing at Elizabeth with sympathy. "It appears she is at Longbourn and intends to arrive in London in three days’ time, if we would be so kind as to offer her a room."

Elizabeth felt a cold dread settling over her. "So soon? I thought I would have more time."

"Three days, she says,” Mrs. Abernathy confirmed, referring to the letter. "She wishes 'to meet the illustrious Mr. Darcy who has so unexpectedly offered for my Lizzy.'"

"Oh, no," Elizabeth murmured, momentarily forgetting her usual decorum. The thought of her mother descending upon London, with all her effusive manners and inappropriate remarks, filled her with dismay. "She will ruin everything."

"I shall write immediately to suggest a slight delay," Mrs. Abernathy said firmly. "There are several perfectly legitimate reasons why next week would be more convenient. Lady Spencer’s musical evening for one, and Mr. Darcy's commitments to his solicitors regarding the settlement."

"A wise precaution," Mr. Abernathy agreed. "Though she must visit eventually, my dear. It would be most irregular for Mr. Darcy not to meet his future mother-in-law before the wedding. Is Mr. Bennet with her?"

“She does not say,” Mrs. Abernathy said, looking the missive over again.

Her husband frowned.

The prospect filled Elizabeth with dread.

She had known this was coming, had known her mother would leave the Esterberrys’ home without her father if he would not consent to accompany her.

Mamma was so certain that Elizabeth could not bring a man to the point without her assistance that she would not delay.

She could all too easily imagine her mother's reaction to Mr. Darcy's wealth and consequence—the effusive praise, the vulgar references to his income, the inevitable mentions of her “clever Lizzy” having “caught” such a prize.

After she said goodnight to everyone, Elizabeth retired to her chamber, though sleep proved elusive. She paced before the fire, her thoughts in turmoil.